Sunday, November 3rd, 2002
The Long Dark Tea-Time Of The Soul
I was correct, yesterday was a farce, but overall not that bad. Full post-mortem later. Breakfast first.
Had the strangest dream in my alcohol-addled, dehydrated sleep last night. We were playing a show and were woefully unprepared, even moreso than usual. No one knew if Craig or any other drummer was showing up. We had no setlist. My cables were suddenly far too short and I could only set up such that I faced the back of the stage. I had no slide and was trying to use a plastic medicine bottle (it doesn’t work). And of course it was a packed house. That’s how I knew it was a dream…
Point? There is no point. There is never a point. Even when there seems to be a point, there isn’t really. Except when there is. Which is rarely, almost never, but still sometimes.
And let this be submitted into evidence as proof that I am still brain-addled.
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