Home.

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.

To Dallas.

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.