Last night, I had a dream that I was in some kind of 24 hour McDonald's, where a man I didn't know approached me and told me, unprompted, that my blog reminded him of a) the writings of some famous Catholic mystic zookeeper (completely invented by my brain) and b) First Things.
I told him that I was flattered (I was).
The (again, nonexistent) Catholic mystic zookeeper theologian looked kind of like the handsome version of the bastard child of Tony Bourdain and Michael Tanner.
Also: all Catholics have facial hair in my dreams, apparently.
This is what I get for drinking so much at last night's debate on R: Philosophy is Preparation for Death.