I escaped last night from Austin.
I could take it no longer.
Not the actual content.
That was banal enough.
But the posting about the content. The tweets. The Facebook crap. The fucking check-ins and badges.
70 years ago it would have been "I've ousted Sol as Mayor of Treblinka."
Get a fucking life.
So, I took the first plane out of there I could.
From Dallas to Atlanta.
And then Atlanta to Philadelphia.
Then Philadelphia home.
I had a big enough freelance project hanging over me. And needed to get it done last night. A promise is a promise.
It was real work. For a real start-up. One with a cockamamie old-fashioned business plan: Make something people want and sell it at a profit.
I'm this start-up's CMO.
Which basically means I work for free for future consideration.
I might wind up with nothing. Or I might wind up with a few million. And a job I can do into my retirement.
It remains to be seen.
One thing's clear.
I won't be tweeting about it at SXSW.