Author's note: I secretly suspect that someone on Facebook has an old pic of him wearing an all cotton button down washed out shirt with embroidery on the collar and cuffs, just sayin'. Frye boots. Moccasins. You remember.
And then there was the little detail we like to refer to as "work." Just so happens an important recording session coincided with our night of just "being there," and by the time Dave got home it was really too late to go besides I was already making dinner and trying to wash the Tammy Baker off my face, a result of tears and cheap mascara and prompted by all the wrong clothing (see above.)
So. Anyway the point is, we didn't go to the Buddhist seminar/meditation on "Fear," most likely because deep down we were too afraid to go, and so after dinner I decided to meditate to OK Computer. Next thing you know Dave was pulling out his musical drugs of choice and we both found ourselves in our dreamy/progressive rock/Jim Morrison induced trances where I acknowledged thoughts and then sent them away and found inner peace and then went to bed.

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