Special Memo to All Musicians, Bands and the Like:
If Yours Truly requests a special tune, namely WipeOut, a drummer's paradise so to speak, and your respective band/combo/whatevertet features a drummer of merit then please comply. To not honour such request not only displeases me but spreads minor bad karma as this is one of the world's premier party songs and drummers, the underloved band member, need to let off a little showcasing steam.
Thanks for your attention in this matter.

Onwards to the business of dreams. Next item on agenda for this blogpost.
Champagne-fueled dreams featured an upper middleclass femme first shoving me in the kitchen of Kennedy and then lunging for and threatening YT with the knife. It turns out this hulking woman was a fan of crack and her friend, accompanying her and watching the domestic chaos was apologizing for her pal's behaviour. Be understanding. Be empathetic. Fuck no. I called the cops after I told Kennedy what had transpired. Cops searched the house and found Ms. Knife hiding in the basement. All you dream enthusiasts have fun with this.

On an errand today saw Nate en route to his joint, balancing snack and keys and forgot to tell him the new Tori has grown on me. And, as rock is now on the agenda. Has anyone noted that Liam Gallagher is morphing into Ringo Starr. Just received SPIN for now and it's clear as a good digital image that's that what's happening with his facial molecules.

Molecular Love.