Fiat power, again; crazy dreams that hound me

After a sudden torrential rain storm, in the course of whose onset I was forced to extinguish my last hookah coal while trapped in the pool house with my dog and laptop computer, a select group of about five houses, my own included, lost power. This is the second time this year that we've lost power, and I'm only perturbed because it happened on my day off.

Anyway, saw Mr. and Mrs. Smith. My first visceral reaction was ecstasy at the slaughter and sex, which ecstasy was enhanced by virtue of a rather immodest quantity of alcohol. More cerebrally, I was somewhat astounded at the grotesque admixture of genres and its seemingly sado-masochistic implications. I enjoyed the film, but my outlook on films treats them more as spectacle than as art.

Granted that I have been drinking a wee bit, in general, not at the moment since I have work in half an hour, a certain dream has been plaguing my sleep for the last week: I wake feeling a few teeth loose in my mouth, and at my touch three or four fall out of their socket onto my tongue; then I gently examine the rest of my teeth and find them to wiggle at the slightest touch; as I examine my mouth in the bathroom mirror, more teeth fall out; by the time I reach work, I have lost nearly all my teeth so that I can scarcely speak intelligibly.