The artist gets his tent and stuff ripped off, only to get it back in a few minutes.

So, I landed in Boulder, set up my tent in the usual place, and took off to sell cartoons. I had a good day, made about 30 bucks in a pretty short amount of time, and then saw Iron Man II. When I got back to my tent, around 1AM, it was gone! I had a weird feeling, like, "it's no big deal, so what if I can't play piano or guitar, see, or have any blankets on this cold night.

Then, out of the darkness, a drunk guy pops his head through the woods and says, "was that your stuff?" I'm like, "yeah, did you take it?" He's all apologetic, tells me he thought it was abandoned, and starts apologizing profusely. "I wouldn't want that to happen to me, I'm real sorry," etc. It all worked out, as I got all my stuff back, and actually, taking this as a sign, pushed my tent farther back into the woods so as to be harder to see from the fence it's behind.

I finished my book this morning, The Last of the Just, and I've got to say that it was awesome.