'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

I seem to be back to coping. And, like Kenny Nolan, I like dreamin'.

Have a weird little rash-ette on my pencil-resting middle finger, which is a bit annoying while working with a pencil, particularly cuz my main blue pencil pencil has little bumps on it:

But I'm dealin'.  I was dealin' with some of the yard stuff.  And I had some nice new social contact this weekend.

Here's Kenny, in case you were wondering.  Poor guy, having to lip synch to his single on American Bandstand.  (Plus live fade out, live fade out, live fade out, live fade out.... 😎 )

I'm a tad trepidatious about rehearsing a sketch at chorus tonight.  One of my fellow performers may not be straightforwardly cooperative in my effort to keep it simple, as I'm aiming to aim for.  I just don't want us to confuse the audience.  Especially if it takes away from any chuckles we might get outta them.

I slept very deeply and had intense dreams with women from my past, ending in my sinking down into and through the fish-swimming-in-it-gel to the underground gel-for-air virtual-ish reality Reba McEntire bar ("so that's what that meant on the map!" thought I), where she was performing a song I know that isn't hers but probably had significance for my sub- and unconscious minds.  Who knows what--- my waking mind isn't privy to it.  And I don't need to know.  I just enjoyed being there.  So heavy, the sleep, possibly cuzza getting so physically spent.

Adjacent to Reba's, and such that it seemed like I could've just gone over there if I felt like it, was what looked like one part of Rick's Place (in Casablanca).  It was in black and white and everything.

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