Yeah, that Jeanne Tripplehorn.
Last night I dreamed I'm partying with the Rolling Stones and they ask me to spin some records. Of course I say "yes" but I have to leave the party for a moment to get something first. While walking along the street I notice Mick Jagger shooting hoops at some local gym. I walk in to say, "'Sup Mick?" and he asks me to join him. Afterwards, while we're packing up, and I ask him about Bob Dylan's "It's Alright Ma (i'm Only Bleeding)" and if he knew the words. He immediately started to sing the whole song. Cool.
Alternate title for this post: Paul Altobelli's 115th Dream
by Keith Richards
Goodnight spoon and goodnight stash.
The sun is up it’s time to crash.
Goodnight booze and pills and crystals,
Moroccan scarves German pistols
The groupies snorted all the blow;
The roadies passed out hours ago;
Mick’s stretched out in Room Ten-Oh-Nine
While all the stray cats wait in line.
So goodnight Memory Motel.
Goodnight bottle of Rebel Yell;
Brazilian pimp and Swedish whore;
French cops pounding at the door.
The dealers with the gypsy curse;
That jaded, faded junkie nurse;
Midnight ramblers and Angels on Harleys;
That tripped-out chick who swears she’s Charlie’s.
Goodnight Brian, Bill, and Rob.
Goodnight Elvis. Goodnight Jann.
It’s time to set the cuckoo clock.
Ah, fuck sleep. Let’s stay up and rock.