So I'm kinda drunk and listening to Rancid and smoking Nat Sherman's and May's brother and I burned some religious propaganda in May's I Heart NY ashtray and I think it's the whiskey talking when I say that I guess I'm OK right now. The whiskey has been talking a lot lately, come to think of it.

I still don't know what's going to happen and I still don't know what to say except one of my best fucking friends is dead and she's still on the beach in Mexico waiting for him to come back. Do you even know what this feels like? Do I need to explain how fucking helpless and crazy and fucked up everything is right now? Cuz I can't. I fucking can't. Jay was the last person who was supposed to die cuz he's tough as fuck and tough fuckers bury their friends before they give up the ghost themselves. Right?

Holy shit. I can barely type. Jesus made whiskey on a good day, I think. Everything else on a bad day, but the whiskey was created when he was in a good mood. Sammy Hagar, bad mood. Jameson, good mood. Get it, yeah?

New place, by the way. Moved out. I guess that's news.

Anyway, I'm still alive, if you want to use the word liberally and the liberals created the internet so I know you all like liberation and shit. Fuck Reagan. Yeah.

I can't believe that fucker died before Reagan.

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