Hey, what's the matter manWe gonna come round at twelve with some Puerto Rican girls that are just dyin' to meet you

I have sat down at this computer many times in recent days, and have been unable to write anything here, because the soundscape in my head just isn't proper for public consumption.

I feel like I am running in ten different directions at once, while I am sitting still.

Or moving backwards.

On a rollercoaster.

The human experience is a pretty powerful one.

I am thankful for a number of things, without which I do not know where I would be. It has been the most difficult, amazing, painful, incredible year of my life.

From now until Thanksgiving, I have decided to name something in each post for which I am thankful.

Today?

My friend, Dan-O.

He is awesome, and about the best friend a guy could have.

Thanks for being there every damn time I pick up the phone, day or night, and for just being you, Dan.

I don't have a biological brother, but you're about what I envision it would be...

(I'm not turning gay. Or japanese. It's just that everyone should have a friend like Dan.)

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In any case, I had a dream last night that was pretty killer. (Writing on a blog about a dream? I know- just fucking shoot me, but hang in there.) I was over at Bells' house, and I sat down at the Carp Memorial Drum Set.

((Keep in mind that during most of my waking hours, my mind is focused on snowboarding and guitar. Lately, though, something clicked on the drum set, and I can actually hold down a decent beat now. It is now bordering on obsession, and occupies my thoughts frequently... like three times an hour.))

Anyway, in my dream, I sat down and started playing drums, and all of the sudden I was Buddy Rich, John Bonham and Keith Moon, all rolled into one. It was an amazing feeling. Cool like a flying dream, except better, because I was just wailing on the drums like nobody's business.