Suspended consciousness and random thoughts

The central truth of my existence is that I am at my creative best when I’m fast asleep. Unfortunately, I’m not the best when it comes to retaining that information. I have it vividly clear when I’m in bed and gloriously snoring, but can never remember the juicy bits as soon as I open my eyes. Whats with that? So yeah, the idea for this one came to me as a thought in my dream. And I’m all, “Wow, that would make for a very interesting post on the blog”. And my dream self, who happens to be a whole lot smarter than me, suggests that it would be a good idea if we make a mental note of it. My physical subconscious self wholeheartedly agrees. So my slumberland manifestation decides to jot it down. Yep, in retrospect that was a total dumbass decision. Because dream Morty is after all just a dream. And as soon as I open my eyes, he’s all POOF! Vanishes right in front of me. And leaves me to collect the remnants of what would have been a kickass post if only I could remember what it was all about.

So the thought that popped up in my dream this morning, I think, is one of the things that I find extremely annoying and inappropriate and completely wrong with the universe. Guys who use the word ‘dear‘ in conversation with other guys. And not in a grandfatherly ‘my dear‘ kind of way. More like in a ‘yes dear‘ sort of ridiculously schmoozingly castrating way. Every time I hear a guy use ‘dear‘ in written English, or even worse spoken out loud, my respect for them plummets to the depths of the nether world. Nothing is worse than a guy chopping his own balls off and serving them with bolognese sauce.

On other more delicious thoughts, I was recently introduced to the orgasmic pleasures of eating sushi. It was lil’ m’s birthday last week, and big M, lil’ m, Mixie and me celebrated it at Komegashi, a rather fancy joint in Jersey City. I’ve always been a little skeptical about sushi, well, because it’s RAW FUCKING FISH! But lil’ m did a fabulous job of introducing me to the cuisine. Maybe it was hormones or maybe she’s just getting all maternal on my ass, but she’s like, “Try this Morty. It has cream cheese. It’ll mask the taste of the fish. Or try this one- it has avacados in it. A little high on calories, but that’s alright.” And I was all but salivating with my puppy dog eyes wide open. Almost like when I was learning to ride a bike. Or when Dr. Bhonsle, the sex-ed consultant in 9th grade showed Mrs. Sanghamitra’s class of 40 curious, overly enthusiastic and horny boys a diagram of a vagina.