It’s nice to be able to sleep in on Tuesdays and Thursdays for at least one semester of my college career. If nothing else it approximates what the last year of high school is supposed to be like but never is: the slack year (at least I’ve never seen anyone’s senior year turn out that way).<\/p>\n
I dreamed I was at a Cake concert, and they were playing “Stickshifts and Safetybelts” and “The Distance,” among other tunes. I, however, was the only one in the crowd who actually knew their music and was a fan; everyone else just kind of wandered around in a semi-daze while the music played. I was jumping up and down, hooting and hollering, and even skanking to a few of their songs. Afterwards, everyone else dispersed, but I came up on stage and uttered the classic line, with arms spread wide, “I am your<\/i> no.1 fan!” (which surely must have been true enough in that neck of the woods). I told them their music just made me feel cool, “like a leather trenchcoat or a pair of Doc Martens.” They horsed around for a bit while I sat and watched, then they loaded their stuff on the bus and drove off. Very surreal, the whole thing. The paradoxical bit of the whole affair is that I’m not that<\/i> much of a Cake fan. Sure, I like a few of their songs, but really… Huh.<\/p>\n
I feel better than I did last night. The viscosity of the air and my generally unkempt situation had gotten to me, but a shower, a shave, and a good night’s sleep have done wonders.<\/p>\n
“Welcome to another day…” — Duncan Sheik<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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