Last night I had a dream, you were in it, and I was in it with you. Some SAB-type nerds organizing Truman Week were rounding up groups of musicians to play at a freshmen meet-and-greet. The idea was to show incoming students the diversity of the music scene in Kirksville by allowing various groups to play a song or two on acoustic guitars. Naturally, we were tapped.
During sets of predictably boring singer-songwriter acoustic pap, we were busy trying to determine the silliest song to play on acoustic guitars in order to bewilder, confuse, and entertain the incoming students. I remember very vividly that as we sat down on stage I had a revelation as to the perfect song to perform. That is to say, I was aware of an impending revelation. I caught a glimpse of the perfect song, without really being aware of its exact form. I exerted all of my mental energy into cognizing the hazy inkling of an idea, similar to the way a person to match a name to the vaguely familiar face of an acquaintance or minor celebrity. At this point in time, on the precipice of cognition, you burst into the chorus of Aerosmith’s “Dude (Looks Like a Lady)”, which we then proceeded to repeat ad nauseum.
I woke myself up from laughing so hard.
The point is, I am fairly sure the song I was reaching for was not in fact “Dude (Looks Like a Lady),” but something slightly less funny. I cannot understand how, while exerting all of my faculties searching for the perfect song, I could effectively interrupt myself with such a perfect, elegant solution. I must credit your comedic prowess, assuming that its imprint upon my subconscious provided me with a moment of great levity in these dark times.
Seriously, I had trouble falling back asleep from fighting off the giggles.
Yours,
PS. I might put this letter on my blog.
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