First, I remembered a quote from my English texts:

At length he began to soliloquize on the difficulty of getting them out, and how queer they looked when out.

It's from an 1845 article called Swallowing an Oyster Alive. I know it's juvenile to be amused by it, but at the very least I can claim that it shows how far our language has come. That was the second-to-last thing I thought about last night, as I chuckled.

The D.J. It's really weird to fall asleep thinking of him.

Nick-From-Next-Door and The D.J have a band (formerly "Fundamental Fusion", now reconstituted as a nameless jazz-fusion band) and a while ago I got one of their songs in my head, sung by The D.J.

I have to admit, having his voice in my head all day was much weirder and scarier than thinking about him as I drifted off to Dreamland, Nevada.

Back to the story though. The D.J was bugging me yesterday about two things.

Firstly, he's got some improv thing on Thursdays. He advertised it by saying "It's not like you have anything else you have to do Thursday night". Apparently, he actually meant that, the Thursday night radioshow notwithstanding. I'll give it 'serious thought', I guess.

Secondly, he came back still later to encourage me to write lyrics for his band. He thinks I can write soulful lyrics about far away mysterious men in towers, and I'm bored enough to agree, for now, as long as I'm not actually writing them. But The D.J was really exicited. He kept running from room to room, getting samples of his music, as giddy as a junkie with a Brompton's cocktail. Bad simile, I agree.

In any case, I had a lot of interaction with him, and thought about his zest for music and lyrics as I drifted off, which I think is kind of a weird thing to do.

To find out how to make your own Brompton's cocktail, right-click this link to the mp3 and select "save target as".

And lastly kids: don't try drinking a half cup of pure syrup at home. I have a nasty sugar-hangover of sorts.