I was up late last night enhancing photographs of a real estate property that is coming up for sale in Denver. If anyone has .6 million dollars, it looks really nice — the kind of place you’d like to have sex in every room.
I finished the work, which was for a friend, and it had taken a few hours so I was told that it was too bad I don’t drink, because I’d certainly be entitled to a bottle of wine or something as thanks. I soon went to bed and as I was drifting off, I was a bit amazed and ashamed to find that my sleepy mind, my mind which knows no bounds, was advocating some other suitable payments.
I felt like the Spanish woman from the second Matrix film, the one who told Neo that she would supply him with the key he needed if he would kiss her the way he kissed Trinity. My sleepy mind was saying, “hey, yeah, that’d be a fair payment, why not. it is so much more affordable than cash, and so much more important an experience anyway!”. It seemed so logical. Of course after I’d woken up I remembered that she’s practically married and all. And I was shocked at how it seemed like such a good idea when I’d been drifting off. But I guess that’s how sleepy minds are. Easily entranced. (And, perhaps as surprising, I’d literally only been thinking about a kiss).