Wednesday, October 26, 2011

A fine, vintage bordeaux

Sleeping 16 hours is a lot like drinking a fine, vintage Bordeaux.  A quaff to be treasured and rolled-around the tongue with, fully, enjoying the subtle notes and finish of oak, raspberry, and chocolate.

Mine was going to see a pre-screening of the Hobbit in limited and unannounced release when I bumped into Neil Peart and Geddy Lee who I explained my appreciation for their work, then went to get heavily ketchuped fries (instead of popcorn, oddly).  Stranger still, the theater had two small screens on either side of the theater showing the same thing, the seats in a Roman senate configuration, albeit red and soft as normal.  I got a somewhat odd side-seat so the movie would be playing to the right and left of me.  Unusual.

On another note, it snowed a tiny bit, covering the grass prettily, complimenting our fruit trees and aspens.

I also dreamed about a Scotsman playing a bagpipe while kicking Gaddafi's in the shin (which was a competition that Gaddafi joined in) in a crowded scene.  Unfortunately, the Scotsman's boot also had a secret stone knife in it and killed him.  To bagpipes.  Probably Gaddafi's worst nightmare.  I bet he was up late at night worried against Scotsmen and banned bagpipes altogether until that one, fateful afternoon!

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