August 24th, 2001


nap time

I always seem to have the oddest dreams when I take naps. Maybe it's my body knowing that it's only going to get a few hours of sleep, and thus it doesn't rest so thoroughly, and thus my mind wanders.

Case in point: maybe because I'm anticipating next weekend's trip to NYC to see Billy Nayer, I had a dream about Billy Nayer himself, Cory McAbee. I dreamed that his day job was architect, and he was involved in some kind of hush-hush covert ops "if I told you I'd have to kill you" government agency architecture project. Except for something like Area 51, I don't see how you could have a covert architecture scheme, since most people tend to notice buildings going up, but whatever. I wonder if there are actually any musicians that are architects by day. If nothing else, they'd probably be really good at setting up the Marshall stacks so they don't topple.

I can't stop reading these reports of lawbreaking in a small Northern California college town infamous for its illegal agricultural products:

Life (and journalism) imitates The Onion. Whoever this Kevin L. Hoover is that writes these, he appears to have a low opinion of hippies, Humboldt County, and humanity in general. My kind of guy.
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feline cirus freaks

So my old neighbor says "Would you like to adopt some Siamese kittens?"

I said "sure".

And then I realized she didn't mean "Siamese" as in the breed.

She meant "Siamese" as in "Chang and Eng".

Good thing cats don't come when you call them, or there'd be real trouble.
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