late night stream of consciousness

i was having a dream last week about chris martins from coldplay. he was giving me a rather vigorous massage while weaving this convoluted and rather dull story about sexual conquests in the upper quarry of brazil. i have absolute no idea if there is such a place as the upper quarry of brazil, but that’s what the guy said and you gotta take the brits at their word, don’t you? for some reason stephen chow was there, frowning rather disapprovingly at the spectacle while teaching harry dean anderson the finer points of oyster shucking.

i often have dreams involving famous people. i don’t know if admitting this leaves me just one or two steps away from a life of pure cliché, but what the hell. at any rate, it’s late and i’ve decided i don’t like capitalization any more. well, at least right now, until i get a that dream job redesigning the lcbo nhl abc ibm etc. web site.

it’s been incredibly hot and muggy here. so hot that you start to feel like your brain has evaporated itself into an extended steamy vacation, and nothing but pure bullshit comes gushing out of your mouth in unstoppable waves. i would say that this post fits into that category (which normally mean that it gets regulated into the draft bin for an eternity) but i don’t care, and i’m sick of looking at the previous post. that’s why you subscribe to the feed for this site anyway, right?

okay, enough of that. to make up for this waste of your precious seconds and minutes, here’s a photo of a mace flower i took at the jardin botanique de montréal:


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