Escalation

I think I may psychosomatically be willing myself into weird sleeping behavior. Three nights ago Chad claims I sat up, grinned and proceeded to punch him in the face. Two days ago he claims I was gone for a long period of time around the 4 am hour. Yesterday I went into the back room, turned on the computer, and started blasting Serge Gainsbourg of all things while asleep. WTF is up with you brain?

As Cole somehow has the skeleton key to my father's heart, a few years back we planned on having a family outing to the Toys for Tots Christmas motorcycle parade. My mom let me have an old pair of leather pants to better prepare for the hypothermia. Months later I wound up letting Robert borrow them for a girl he had to do some photo shoot thing with and promptly forgot about them. That it is until I ran into Robert this weekend and he was wearing them. I'm pretty sure his brain is pyschosomatically turning him into Jim Morrison.

Show season is starting up again next week, so I shall go back to my 4 hours of sleep a night schedule. That should do wonders for the subconscious. On the agenda is: Counting Crows, Matt White, Josh Groban featuring Herbie Hancock and a million awesome other people, Idina Menzel featuring John Coltrane's son, Kenny Chesney, Foreigner, Kate Nash, an 80s spectacular and da da da duh The Cure. If anyone would like to come and experience the magic that is television let me know.

Thank fucking god winter is over.