For some reason I dreamt of Filipino Jehovah's Witnesses picketing fried calamari in North Beach. The unconscious mind takes stimuli and reinterprets them in what seems, under the circumstances, to be the most logical format, rendering what we might vividly recall upon awaking, but I do not know, nor can I fathom, under what circumstance Filipino Jehovah's Witnesses picketing fried calamari in North Beach is logical.
Any part of that. Calamari. Hot oil. Batter or breading.
Street protest with signs on Stockton street.
Dour and cheerless Filipinos.
Quietly disapproving.
This may have something to do with the rain, which came clattering down before dawn. And the fact that I could hear my apartment mate using the bathroom for her morning ablutions.
There is also a slight possibility that it was "excess of pizza last night" related. I normally do not overload on Pizza.
Nothing says 'Filipino' like too much cheese.
But why Jovie's Witnesses?
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