Recidivism
Ok, so if I have personal rules against talking about politics, retelling dreams that you've had is a capital crime.
That said, I had a dream last night that I and a bunch of guys I used to play with got to back Tom Petty at some weird event for middle-aged real estate developers. I haven't done a lot of those conservative big-stage kinds of events, due to being a habitually drunk sociopath in my youth, but the stage was too detailed to be someplace I hadn't played on before. Wish I could place it. Anyways, Tom Petty is a marijuana-addled swinger, apparently, and the concert promoter's daughter (who is a stand-in for some teenage girl I saw on Hogan Knows Best last night) is a total slut. Not with me, but with the rest of the guys and weird Top-Hat-wearing Tom Petty. I think I was alternately too worried somebody was going to steal my guitar and wondering how I might manage to steal Tom Petty's to focus on the festivities. Plus, have you ever felt like you were high in a dream? God, that's a weird feeling. Who gets anxious in their dreams? How retarded is that?
This is what I dream about-- playing "Runnin' down a dream" for realtors and the subsequent marijuana, polyester pant-suit and bad highlights real-estate sex party. This was not an erotic dream. It, in fact, severely disrupted my ordinary morning visitor.
So anyways, today sucks. I can't even have a good sex dream today. But I got too much to do to just sit around and be miserable. Owing to work pressures, etc., I have to *attempt* a normal functioning day and fail, which does not improve the experience even slightly.
That said, I had a dream last night that I and a bunch of guys I used to play with got to back Tom Petty at some weird event for middle-aged real estate developers. I haven't done a lot of those conservative big-stage kinds of events, due to being a habitually drunk sociopath in my youth, but the stage was too detailed to be someplace I hadn't played on before. Wish I could place it. Anyways, Tom Petty is a marijuana-addled swinger, apparently, and the concert promoter's daughter (who is a stand-in for some teenage girl I saw on Hogan Knows Best last night) is a total slut. Not with me, but with the rest of the guys and weird Top-Hat-wearing Tom Petty. I think I was alternately too worried somebody was going to steal my guitar and wondering how I might manage to steal Tom Petty's to focus on the festivities. Plus, have you ever felt like you were high in a dream? God, that's a weird feeling. Who gets anxious in their dreams? How retarded is that?
This is what I dream about-- playing "Runnin' down a dream" for realtors and the subsequent marijuana, polyester pant-suit and bad highlights real-estate sex party. This was not an erotic dream. It, in fact, severely disrupted my ordinary morning visitor.
So anyways, today sucks. I can't even have a good sex dream today. But I got too much to do to just sit around and be miserable. Owing to work pressures, etc., I have to *attempt* a normal functioning day and fail, which does not improve the experience even slightly.