detroit Blog and Journals

Let me start by saying that I'm one of those unfortunates that never remembers his dreams. My dear and long-lost best friend Scott Rafferty always said that if someone could invent a machine that would TiVo your dreams, we'd never watch TV again-YouDream would take over and we'd celebrate people with the most fantastical subconscious imaginations. Instead of useless reality TV stars, we'd have millions tuning in to watch the latest dreams of unconsciously creative unreality TV dream superstars.

I wouldn't dare put my last dream anywhere near the top of the YouDream charts but I'm psyched to be able to convey it. Unfortunately, what allowed me to remember it was the worst flu that I've had in years. Frankly, this tour has been hard on bg. Pretty much everyone got hit with this super flu starting with the boys and girl of Lydia to us.

For three straight days I laid in fetal position in the back of the BG-mobile, only waking to stumble on stage to play our set. Afterwards, I feebly retreated back to my cold-sweat womb, shivering my ass off while I listened to everyone around me properly partying. My fever was dangerously high. I hadn't eaten for three days, which is insane for glutton Luu.

In this womb, I had torturous cyclical visions; not quite dreams since I wasn't truly sleeping. I'd see random faces ... shiver ... freeways & turnpikes ... convulse ... blackness ... cough cough, all to the soundtrack of Lydia tunes on infinite repeat.

Finally, at 5am after our Richmond show, my fever began to break. My sheets were soaked but still I couldn't move. Imagine your body is icy dead but your mind is racing like an uncontrollably hot firecracker after three days in a fetal coma and a large shot of Nyquil.

Again I saw thousands of cyclical images, but in even quicker succession: strange trees, Willie Nelson's beautifully wrinkled face in reverse negative, glaring stage lights, snippets of the touring bands' faces laughing, and yes, delicious looking burritos (with rice and beans on the side, perfectly melted cheese and scallions on top).

Then, at the zenith of the fever break, the dream began.

I threw the covers off, slowly getting up. I walked out of the room, down the long corridor to the back of the hotel. Opening two large gilded glass doors led me to an infinity pool. I looked to my right and noticed that the pool flowed into a gorgeous river. Looking further down, the backdrop was the lower Grand Canyon so it had to be the mighty Colorado. Dozens of joyous people were swimming, doing cannonballs and floating.

I stripped down and got in. The water felt perfect in a mild afternoon sun. A sweet breeze floated cherry blossoms through the air which sparkled across calm waters. I floated peacefully with the locals in perfect harmony.

Minutes later, I felt a surge of water to my right and looked over to see the head of a bear the size of a mini cooper emerge from under the water. I was scared shitless and madly doggie paddled back to the river's edge. No matter how hard I paddled, I was dead in the water. I looked down and my hands and feet had thick wool socks on them.

Now the bear was three feet away and I saw that he looked quasi- anime and goddamn cute to boot. Despite his enormity, none of the locals panicked or screamed.

Beary and I swam side by side and got out of the water simultaneously. As he slowly disappeared back into the canyon, I chuckled at his hugely cute bare bear butt. To paraphrase Steven Malkamus, bears: they wiggle while they walk.