Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Last night I dreamt that Prince and I ran into each other at a pool party. Not a swanky Los Angeles-style, champagne hot tub-type, but more of a BBQ and water wings type. We chatted about his current projects and he apologized for the album 3121. When I woke up I'm pretty sure that little blue cartoon birds were singing above me. Why all this rehashing of my subconscious babble? Because, it's now nine hours to Prince.

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