Last night I dreamed that the wife and I were on a cross-country road trip with Jon Morris and Leonard Pierce. There was some ridiculous underplot to all this—we all had to testify in a mob trial, or something—but it was of little consequence; the essence of the dream was long ride in a rented minivan, Calamity Jon at the wheel and Leonard on shotgun, me and D in the back seat, riffing on the weird or funny stuff we saw through our moving windows (a horrendous accident involving a car and a pickup truck hauling a boat trailer; a guy puttering about in his yard in full C-3PO costume), just shooting the shit.
Tomorrow night I shall doubtless dream I get invited to Ze Frank’s super-exclusive birthday party, where Terry Teachout invites me back to his secret tree fort to read comics, whereupon I wake up and blow my brains out on the grounds I am too pathetic to live.
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