Track 1. 9:05-10:40 It was one of those nights sleep that burrow into me, like hundreds of little groundhogs wearing backpacks filled with stardust and sand that set up camp deep in the subconscious, light tiny bonfires of sweetgrass and sage and refuse to leave.
I woke up tired, head swirling in Spiritualized's Take Good Care Of It on vinyl with the pitch control turned down nice and slow all the way to the left. Dream inhabits most of my mind, taking up camp, refusing to leave. Good. Oftentimes, I like you better.
Track 2. 10:41-11:00 A double shot of black densey goodness from ye olde espresso device changed the song, albeit briefly. The groundhogs ran off into the hills, trailed by a stampeding concoction of lion, buffalo, giraffe and cheetah all quick as beans and carrying great bunches of banana's atop their backs while, right behind, chased 64 third-graders each with a bowl of cereal filled with milk and crunchies but without that sliced banana their mothers had promised for breakfast that morning; everyone humming right along to Animal Collective's Purple Bottle as we ran.
Track 3. 12:15-1:45 I'm one of those almost embarrassingly weepy Simon and Garfunkel songs, let's say Old Friends. In this case i'm Garfunkel and i'm having to sing it a cappella because Paul is still in bed back at the hotel. He's there with a sexy raven-haired stunner whose about twice his height and goes by an exotic nickname instead of her birth name, a right that she has earned. They met last night at some trendy new Brazilian club that i just couldn't get off the couch to visit.
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