So the Remora shows went pretty well. I’m hoping to get a chance to do some recording in the next couple of days of the live set with this backing band (there are live recordings of the shows, but I think those are better as personal artifacts than being released).
The cop still hasn’t filled out the paperwork for my accident. Kind of frustrating. I already had it towed to the shop.
Last Night’s Dreams:
My body is found dead in bed. There’s a big black scar on my chest from being struck by lightning.
I find my grandmother’s body in a hospital. Not only is her body still alive, she’s conscious. She tells me she wants to go home & I disconnect the stuff from her & pick her up & start carrying her out of the hospital. She’s the lightest she’s ever been, but I’m still not sure how far I’ll be able to carry her.
At the end of a show I’ve worn through two thirds of an orange tortex guitar pick. That’s not supposed to happen.
I wake up sobbing. No one is there to care or notice.
what kind of podunk town do you live in that it takes a couple weeks for the cops to do their jobs?
also is the last line of this blog a dream or reality
I wonder the same thing about this town. Maybe in a podunk town they’d fire a cop for incompetence.
That was a dream, but both that & the guitar pick dream I thought might’ve been true.