just got back from a hard day's night on the mountain with an unappreciative audience of six, but lived to tell the tale (meanwhile enjoying the scenery, knowing that i'd make it home by 1 a.m. at the latest, where an inviting bud was waiting for me--and a newcastle brown ale to chase it down with, too).
oh my god, and here it is 1:30 a.m. and i've had a bud (mmmm!) and am still enjoying the newcastle -- i can see the future! it's like a superpower or something!
wow, wait, more's coming--yes, yes, it's getting clearer....i oversleep in the morning and wake up in a hangover/nugfog matrix, cursing myself and the bastard who invented mondays!
2 comments:
It's not every day we meet supernatural visionaries with such psychic insightfulness! Prey, tell, what happens after a REALLY intense Friday night of Dionysian splendor and sweet Bud Sacrifice?
oddly enough, in those cirmucstances the power reverses itself and shows me only the immediate present, one microsecond being however stretched out to one million times its original shape, giving me leisure to ponder such questions as "could my head possibly hurt ANY more than this?"
(answer: Hell, yes!)
and "Where am i, and whose pants am i wearing?"
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