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August 23, 2007
pear-flavored vodka
doesn't really taste like pears unless you mix it with something else.
a dream from the other night:
My dead friend was all manic and living in a garage apartment or motor lodge or something someone had lent him while he was recording, or finishing up recording, or something. I came to visit where he was staying and it was a wreck, with crap strewn all over the place and taps dripping, fixtures broken (by my friend, presumably in a fit of frustration), etc. He was ranting and raving at me, about me, about everything, but I hung out for a while without responding to any of the rant subject-matter and eventually he calmed down. He said "you're going to take care of me? I know you're looking out for me." And I said I would. Which, as it happens, is (almost verbatim) the conversation we had the last time I saw him alive. Later in the dream I got him chauffered over to a small rented hall where his post-recording party would be, and he and some very special guests would be playing. He was talking with the sound guys and stage guys about the way things were to be set up, and I marveled at how competently he was able to communicate with these guys when just hours before he'd been a raving lunatic unable to find his own keys and cellphone. When I woke up from this dream there was no gut-punch, surprisingly. Where's it hiding?
oh yes and this week's quality included 5x800 (3:06avg) Tuesday and a run down from no-man's land (7:39) to sub-any-marathon-pace-I'll-ever-see (6:56) during this morning's 11.
Posted by joe positive at August 23, 2007 7:26 PM
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