Tuesday, December 23, 2003

Mid Aft.

I'm lounging on the couch, sipping some Macallen, neat, and jamming on a Dm/Bm vamp when my phone rings. It's Dee R, an author friend from downtown, and she asks if I'd like to go catch a few pints at Jester's. I say I'll go her one better, and invite her back to my place - tell her I'll whip up a batch of margaritas to sweeten the deal. She accepts the invitation, and says she'll bring her new story by for my perusal. Hanging up the phone, I make a mental note that telephones seem to play a fairly major role in my dreams despite the fact (or perhaps because) I hate them.

This fragment ends here.

I have on shiny purple toenail polish which is chipped on the toes of my left foot. I'm wearing some sort of light loose-fitting clothing and hiding out in a grungy maze-like basement with a trio of unfamiliar girls. We're playing some sort of hide-and-seek game with a few unfamiliar objects. Getting bored of this, (the game is incredibly easy), I say I have a better idea. I then attempt a few knife tricks until I realize that I'm a little to drunk.

I wake up to Sydney kneading my chest.

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