coyotedave

With my recent bout of fever, I returned from the ER with a standard set of strong medication, including an inhaler, because apparently I have asthma when I'm sick. I almost never use inhalers, but when I have one, I sometimes take a hit before bed, because it gives me a bit of a buzz. Did one last night. Settled in. Watched the dim flicking light of my wireless router LEDs, and became aware of the onset of mild, but unmistakable LSD style visual hallucinations.

Before drifting off to sleep, I rolled onto my back and watched the iridescent bubbling oil overlaying my ceiling.

Ah, but the best was yet to come....

Vivid dreaming. My dreams often include similar elements. One is a giant hotel which can be in various states on repair. At it's worst, it's a crumbling skyscraper with extremely unreliable freight elevators. But last night it was a chrome and glass beauty in the heart of a teaming city.

My second common element is various states of flying, which I rationalize as drawing from state of energy in the dreams. Sometimes it's barely levitating an inch or two. But again, this time it was full control, full power at will flight.

Ya try not to draw attention in a crowded city, but stuff happens. Sometimes you have to fly. Hotel security was on my ass but shortcuts over crowded stairs is an advantage. And it was especially crowded with people waiting to see the Dalai Lama.

Oh, yes, we met. He'd spotted me popping up 15 feet to avoid getting hit by a car. He and his companion asked me about it, His Holiness pointing up at the ceiling of the overhang in front of the hotel lobby. Now, I don't speak Tibetan, and apparently in dreams he doesn't speak English. So, I put two fingers under his arm and put the "fly" into him; up he goes. Finger not quite to the ceiling, so I put my other hand to his companion's shoulder and ground us, and it's right to the top.

I had to part ways with the tickled Buddhists, I'm sure they had stuff to discuss -- when they're not quiet, they're talking.

Such an excellent change from muddled fever dreams. I'm feeling much, much better.

Just over a 24-hour bug. I must say, if you're gonna have a bug, the 24-hour kind is the kind to get. Why can't all ailments just last 24-hours?

...except the kind that kills you. That'd suck.

Left over hot dogs, sliced into a spring mix salad = Greeny Weenies.

It's officially Spring. I'm gonna make an attempt to pull my head outta my ass and do stuff.

Lived unhealthy for one year. Now Spring is at hand and need to nudge the pendulum. Today is a raw day. Gonna have a couple of those a week to start. I have no idea how much I weigh, but it's a lot.

Gotta get outside more.

I don't have a cold today. My nose isn't running. My throat isn't sore. I can breath fine.

Whenever I do have a cold, I tell my self that when it's gone, I'll appreciate my health. So, there.

I've noticed that when accidents are caught on camera, that the photographer often instinctively looks away. Some really good youtube clips suffer from that.

Beware the mythical half-man creature who kills his prey by burying in meaningless details -- the minutiataur.

I would like to see a production of South Pacific in the context of contemporary war movies crossed with ShowTime sex.

I think part of the confusion in my life is that rather than identifying heterosexual or homosexual, I really prefer carnal contact with spirit creatures of alternate planes of existence. What's that called, exactly?

Gas and heating oil prices have fallen this month. I can imagine three possible reasons...

1. The word is out, there's a new sheriff in town.
2. Nobody wants to kill the ox.
3. Oil companies have had good production and they'd like to pass the savings onto their customers.

There are some countries who are bitter about the United States and can get away with some pretty tough rhetoric on any occasion. But if you're following up from scenes of Kenyans dancing in the streets, harshing that buzz would just make you look like a giant dick.

I colored in the little oval of justice!

Long term, things look better. Short term, still gotta make the mortgage this month.

A recent study comparing Biblical prophecies with archived historical records has concluded that The Rapture occurred in 1898. I'm sorry you missed it. Enjoy your part it the 1,000 years of tribulation.

Last night I had a dream that I was dreaming. Particularly nice, because I was sleeping with Tonya Kay while I was dreaming, in the dream. However, being in a meta-dream, I was, of course completely lucid about the dream state. I walked around admiring the depth, color and detail of my dream -- the below decks passage of an aircraft carrier with the administrative offices and mess deck. Stopped somebody in the dream and on the possibility that we were having the same dream, gave him my waking address and asked him to send a note.

Feel a little guilty about that -- like it's unwise to go about giving your actual contact information to dream creatures.

Woke up this morning with a sore throat. I'm pretty sure it's just burned from cold air coming in my window last night. One year I got a sudden sore throat on the way to an FFF was at death's door the whole weekend. Gargling with sea salt solution seems to be doing the trick, though.

I'm finishing off the last of the whips and making some signs. I modded a clothes rack to fit disassembled in my luggage. Gonna make some signs, including one with my cell number so people can call for after-hours sales -- tape to my door.

It's going to be a hard night. My flight leaves at 6:00am and to get to the airport by cheap public transportation, I have to leave here around bed time. Train into Boston, subway and shuttle to the airport. I'm scared to death I'm going to sleep through boarding my flight.

Straight out working as much as I can for the next 36 hours. Then off to Florida. Tonya Kay has been kind enough to let me sell out of her booth. So, we're gonna have a two day chat.

When I was growing up in Utah, I'd often her an move ad on the networks, "premier at seven o'clock, six central." Now I'm in Massachusetts, I still hear, "Seven o'clock, eight central."

What must it be like to live in a world where your television is scheduled on everybody else's time?

Just combed enough fur off my cat's back to make another smaller cat.

Appears that somebody I like has removed me from his filters.

Cheesy effects, cardboard sets, paper props. Doesn't matter. Shakespeare's Globe Theater had the state-of-the-art stage effects, but that's not what people remember. It's teh wordz.

Still, I want a sonic screwdriver.

"Actually, Mr. Wayne, we don't have a high-end forensics computer that is specifically warranted for bat poop, but that sounds unlikely enough that we can probably just write it in."

Guys making out with other guys; that's just gay.

Had a good time a the Fetish Flea (fff). Made money for going to Fetish-con in Tampa next month. Now I just need to make a shipload of whips.