Not feeling great today. I'm not sure whether it's the pollen or the mold spores that I'm allergic too, but whichever it is the count must be really high today. My eye is swollen and red and nasty and painful, and it and my nose keep running, and as a result my face is red and splotchy and I've got Kleenex wadded up all over my desk. People keep stopping to ask me if I'm okay, because they think I'm crying. That doesn't help.

<DREAM SEQUENCE>

This morning I dreamed that Luke Skywalker told me he's my father. I remember thinking okay, it would have been nice if he'd told me before now, but like father like son, I suppose, and at least he didn't cut off my hand before he told me. I was also really happy because I thought this meant I could become a Jedi, which would just be kick-ass. Then my alarm went off and woke me up.

I hit snooze and went back to sleep, and dreamed that Tess and I were standing in some unidentified lobby, waiting for Mark Hamill to come out of the restroom, and I told Tess about my previous dream. She dared me to run up to him when he came out of the restroom, throw my arms around his neck and sqeal, "Daddy!" I told her no, because he's starting to get up there (in age), and what if I frightened him into having a heart attack, and he died, and then Warner Bros. animation decided to start making new episodes of Batman? They wouldn't be able to make any Joker episodes without Mark Hamill, and if they did them anyway with another voice they wouldn't be any good, and it would just ruin the whole show for me.

Then my alarm went off again and I got up for work.

</DREAM SEQUENCE>

Last night, on Exposure, I discovered Vast. I spent most of this morning trying to find Vast mp3's, which, let me tell you, are not easy to find. I finally managed to gather "Touched," "Pretty ...," and "Dirty Hole." I like this guy. He has that droning, depressive, techno sound I like so well. Nice voice, too.