I met J* about a year before he wrote the following journal entries. I never knew him well, but I knew him to be honest and imaginative. Sadly, in his recent passing, he left me his journals. The following are his last string of entries. My last words with him were in a bar just before he left. We were having a few drinks, and he was telling me about this tour he was going on with the Sidedoor Johnnies, a rock band out of NYC. J* had some friends who would always put him up to little projects that he could write about in his journal -- anything from people’s reactions to public humility to show reviews, although in my opinion he couldn’t review a show for shit. So for this trip, they had asked him to try the Guinness Diet, which he agreed to as long as it didn’t have to involve Guinness, since he didn’t like dark beers all that much. At the bar, J* was all jazzed up about this idea that he had to make the journal entries more interesting. He had six rubber bands around his wrist, which he said he intended to take with him and always have one strapped around the beer that he was drinking. The objective, I think, was to only drink large beers, pints, and forties -- only beers that would support the rubber band with girth. Regrettably, on day one of the tour, he realized that the rubber bands fit fine around a beer can, so his rubber band theory proved nothing -- not that it ever really did or would have in my opinion.
Being that this was his last entry, it seemed that this would be the most appropriate for publication of these much talked about journal entries that are now even somewhat famous, even though no one has actually read them. Since they have been left to me, I have taken it upon myself to share them with the rest of you. I think J* knew that I would want to print them. Truthfully, I think that is why he left them to me. He is missed already.
J.P. Hughes
Tuesday 3/16/99 5:52pm
Well, Dan should be picking me up in about an hour. I’ve got my six bands (rubber in nature,) and I’m sitting down to have some soup before I get on the road… Unfortunately, I may be coming down with the flu just as I’m getting prepared to start my liquid diet. So, I’m having some noodle soup and I took a Vitamin-C pill. The instructions on the bottle said to take it with a full glass of water, but I took it with a beer just to start things off correct.
I am a little disappointed to find out that the rubber band fits around the can of beer I’m drinking so there goes my plan… but it’s quality not quantity, and I’m drinking The Beast, so it’s all good. It will still be interesting to see if I just don’t lose all six rubber bands.
Anyway, this will possibly be the only entry I get to make today on account that we are driving through the night and it will be dark so… here we go. I’m going to get my second beer before I leave. So, the official count (since I left work) is one bowl of soup and two cans of beer (of The Beast nature).
J*
Wednesday 3/17/99 8:36am
(Post Time Zone Switch)
We all pretty much slept through the night. I nodded in and out. I officially woke up around 6:30-7 (before the time change), and the sun was coming up. We were in Tennessee, so someone did a lot of driving… I think it was mostly split between Dan and Miika… Evan and Mike somehow managed to spend most of the trip in odd positions on the floor of the mini-van… one on either side of me. It’s tight but not bad. Dan has a bubble on the top of the van, and all the equipment is packed tight in the back. When I was first invited, I was surprised that they would have room for extra bodies, but it’s actually quite comfortable.
We just stopped at a Waffle House for breakfast and I never would have guessed it but… they don’t serve beer there. Oh yeah, it’s Saint Patrick’s Day motherfucker! I’m starting to wonder if I’m ever going to get a drink in me, plus it’s been 24 hours without smoking so my body is confused… I quit cigarettes just over two weeks ago. We stopped at a gas station last night and I took the longest, noisiest crap I’ve ever taken. I’m not sure if that’s my body telling me something or just my ass being a punk, because I was still feeling feverish and I dragged my body out on the road.
Anyway, I ate some eggs and toast at this Waffle House. My justification is that I’m sick… and it’s Saint Patrick’s Day, so I need a solid base to pile the beer onto… and the Waffle House doesn’t serve beer, did I mention that ridiculousness yet? The waitress was real nice. She asked us where we were from and Mike told her NYC. Then she asked me where I was from because I "couldn’t be from New York City." I asked her why that was and she pointed out that I was the only one who ordered grits.
Now, mind you, grits came with the meal, so really I’m just the only one who didn’t un-order them… but I told her that I’m from upstate New York and that we’re "grits folk" up there. I don’t think she understood me… probably because it’s not true… but fuck it, I’ll eat some grits.
Gotta go. Writing in the car is a pain in the ass. Official count thus far for Saint Patrick’s Wednesday: 2 eggs, toast, grits, tea, grapefruit juice, zero beer.
J*
Oh yeah, Mike had a small flask of Tequila that I partook on the road last night before I dozed. Partook? Is that a word?
Wednesday 3/17/99 5:27pm
We went to Graceland. Guess what? No beer. Then we just ate at a Shoney’s (which is pretty much a Bob’s Big Boy… even on the wall there is some sign that says Big Boy’s favorite burger is Shoney’s or some shit like that) and guess what… no beer. So it’s 5:30 on Saint fucking Patrick’s Day and on the second day of my drinking expedition I still haven’t had a damn beer since I left Queens. I could drink in the car but with my poor bladder I would have to stop and piss every 20 minutes. With all the driving we’re doing that wouldn’t make me a very likeable passenger. I got the salad bar at Shoney’s and pigged out. Fuck it, ya’ know.
And Elvis… let me just tell you about this guy. I don’t really like his music so I was just going to Graceland because we were going. We toured his house and it was really rad, which surprised me a little… I mean, I knew he was a pimp, but I didn’t know he had any taste. The great thing was that it really felt like a theme park, but this guy actually got to live there. It’s laughable… but in an admirable wish-you-were-a-pimp-too sort of way. Liking his music or not, this guy knew how to live.
Everything was shag… chairs, floors, ceilings. There’s something like 32 televisions in the house, even though we only got to see 9 or 10 of them. One of the basement rooms had 3 televisions mounted in the wall all in a row so this psycho could watch three shows at once. And the "jungle room"… this shit had a waterfall coming out of the wall and everything in this room that wasn’t a waterfall or some sort of animal bone chair was shag.
But as cool as the house was, hey, we’re crossing the Mississippi River into Arkansas now… but as cool as the house was, there were all sorts of things that pissed me off (as you could have guessed):
There was this really scary, overly friendly lady who greeted us when we got off the shuttle bus from the parking / gift shop area. "Hello, and welcome to GRACELAND," she screamed at us. It was like being screamed at by someone who was completely happy, not mad… she just can’t control her vocal inflection. My feelings are that she might have been on cocaine or was a robot.
In the back yard there was this gorgeous kidney-shaped pool with a huge diving board and the filter running. I had to resist jumping in it because an arrest would screw up our schedule. What really upsets me about this, however, is that the pool was so tempting that now I actually have to go back to Graceland… Just so I can get naked, streak the tour, jump off the diving board, and get officially kicked out so I’ll never have to go back again.
When the tour was done, we had to wait in this line for the shuttle buses because there were only two running. I mean, come on! We just saw the estate and the wall upon walls of gold records and we were part of a tour that’s still dishing out bills to this already too rich estate and they can’t even have a few extra buses running? If anything, you’d think that they’d want to get us back quicker so we could spend money in the fucking gift shops… that’s right, gift SHOPS (plural). They have several Elvis gift shops (all right next to each other) at the place where you park / get on the shuttle that takes you about 40 yards across the street to the mansion. So, we have the coked-up robot lady take a shot of us in front of the house, and then I’m left thinking, "I’m ready to go now, so fuck the bus. Let’s just walk." And Dan asked the tour guide if we could walk, because the bus that was leaving cut me, Dan, and Mike off from Miika and Evan (i.e. me, Dan, and Mike had to wait another 15 minutes for the next bus. Actually, Mike made the cut for the first bus and was laughing at us as we were standing there, but then he got his ass sent back because they miscounted). So Dan asked the guide if we could walk, and she said No because of liability, and I’m thinking "Fuck liability". If they won’t let us walk and "can’t afford" extra shuttles, then build a damn footbridge over the road. Also, Dan asked, "Why not put in a monorail?," and the lady said they wanted to keep things the way Elvis had kept them… okay, it’s Graceland, retard… I mean, a whole city was built around it… and I don’t think Elvis took time in his busy day to paste "Watch Your Step" signs all over his estate.
And fuck tour guides. When I refer to a tour guide, in this case, I really mean the lady who made sure we didn’t bombard the shuttles. No… our real tour guide was a fucking walk-man… a walk-man with Priscilla throwing in her two cents every minute or two. That was our audio tour… and the security camera in every corner of the house kept us in line, otherwise. I still think I can pull off a successful streak and a swim, though.
And the only thing I really liked about Elvis was his big gold shades, which they had in one of the gift shops for thirty bucks… which is a lot, but I would have bought them… except for the fact that they were too big for my head (and mind you, I have a large head). Apparently, they only came in one size: size "really fucking huge". Un-fucking-believable.
Oh yeah, and we didn’t get to see the crapper where he bought the farm. I know it’s kind of sick… but come on. You grow to expect a few things from a quality tour.
So Elvis… what did I learn from visiting your home (other than the list of things that pissed me off)? Well…
I learned that not everything at Graceland pissed me off, and I kind of thought that everything would.
They wouldn’t let us see the upstairs and the "tour guide" said that was because Elvis only let people up there by invite, and so out of respect, they left that off the tour. Now, I looked up the staircase at the beginning of the tour and the top is walled off with security windows, etc. (so much for keeping things the way Elvis had them). So I learned that Elvis is alive and well and living on the second floor of the very same house he lived in before he was dead. Sure I have no proof, but something is shady. Some of the other guys think he may even be chilling up there with 2-Pac and Biggie Smalls… I know he’s not dead, but Puff Daddy is probably there too.
There’s also something really shady about the Elvis Army years. He looked way too pretty in the photos to really be in the Army. I think it was a ploy to get kids psyched about the armed forces. Think about it. He was like a spokesperson for the generation, and during an era when people were jazzed about the armed force. Again no proof -- but it’s the same reason a bunch of kids went out and dropped acid because John Lennon did.
Elvis had a fat head.
Anyway, it’s dark now and I’m writing blindly. Count: big-ass salad bar, zero beer. I’m thinking about ditching the rubber bands. The more I think about them sober, the stupider they become.
J*
Wed. 3/17 8:51pm
I’m at Dan’s friend Eileen’s house in Little Rock Arkansas. Some girl, Kim, is here but she took Miika, Evan, and Mike to Target because Mike liked her sandals (he called them slippers) and they all wanted to get a pair for themselves. Dan and Eileen went to get beer. I’m taking care of some business that needs to be taken care of in a non-beer world… imagine that, almost 9pm on St. Patrick’s Day and no beer. So, I’m with this guy, Rett, who’s in a band that’s playing with the Johnnies when we return here on Saturday. So Rett and I are here and smoking… and listening to tunes and talking about what kind of music scene that goes on in Arkansas. It’s a good time… sorry, Dan’s here with a 12 of Honey Brown. Gotta go.
Count: &#@!?, and 1 beer
Expected Count: more than one beer
Wed. 3/17
Alan and Rachel are here. Rachel asked Alan if he could practice tomorrow. He said, "Sure, what am I playing in your band?"
A little later, Alan said he was going to roll a cigarette, but then got up and said, "Fuck it. I’ll roll some ________s"… not butts, not stems, but some term -- I think it was twigs, maybe. He went to the ashtray and into the rolling paper, emptied the butts (not even large gardening butts, you know, like half-cigarettes… No, these were filters with just little bits of tobacco, burnt and crusted). He rolled the whole lot of them together and started smoking the cigaroon. He mentioned that the first few drags tasted like grass. Someone mentioned that there had been a roach in the ashtray. Apparently, Alan didn’t want it because he then traded it with someone for a real cigarette.
I thought I was the King of Gardening, and I am, but this guy Alan is the God of Gardening. And he showed us his tattoo. One arm has a Japanese (?) symbol for Rock & Roll and the other arm has the Decepticon logo (you know, like Transformers)… pretty cool.
J*
Oh yeah, on the road, a crop-duster attacked the mini-van. I think someone might be trying to have us killed.
Wednesday 3/17/99
(Kindalate)
I’m going to bed. I drank my fill. Crazy people here in Arkansas. Great stories. Remind me to tell you sometime. Everything from arrests for making a wrong turn and getting questioned for alcohol smell because he dumped the beer he was drinking under the seat… to flips and spirits and mind reading… to the Asian kid who entered the room, sat dow,n and said nothing to anyone except to the kid who asked him what kind of test they gave him when he got his license and if he could see his license… and this other kid, Rett, who asked him if he could drive his car to the store to pick up some kid who was just getting off work. The Asian kid hadn’t drunk anything and said yes, confirming that he’d take the car. Rett left later to go to a bar. I never saw the Asian kid again. Some kid came in the house, passed out in the corner, eventually got back up, walked a shaky stride to the bathroom, and was also never seen again.
All this and more, but fuck you. I’m very drunk, very tired, and I think I might be driving tomorrow morning. By the way, Arkansas is strange, and I guess I’m basing that only on the events that occurred this evening because, I slept in the van until we were turning onto Eileen’s street, so I’ve really only seen this house.
Sorry about the "fuck you" before. I’m just tired and my hand is spoiled by word processors and really hurts now that I’m writing. First sleep not in the car 3/17 ????am Goodnight…
J*
Thursday 3/18 8:50am
Well, I made it through the night, but it wasn’t easy. In the middle of the night (by middle of the night I mean that it was still dark out) I woke up with a wicked hangover and couldn’t get back to sleep for what seemed like a couple of hours but was probably (realistically) only one hour. I fell asleep eventually though, and that’s really the key: If you can wake up hungover and can get back to sleep, you’ll be fine.
I’m pretty energized. I think we’re going to the Waffle House again. I’ll probably eat something. We’re going to Texas today where there will be music and… Texans. Back here in Little Rock in a few days. All for now.
J*
Thursday 3/18 2:24am
Night time… Austin, TX. We’re in a Rodeway Hotel. It’s been raining since we got here. We had some pizza in town at a cool pizzeria (that reminded me of Ithaca, New York for some reason,) and the waiter(s) turned me on to Shiner Bock, brewed in Shiner, TX. I had four at the pizzeria (Frank & Angies) and another at the bar we went to afterwards (The Buffalo Club).
We split up to see different shows. Dan and I went to the Buffalo Club to see Beulah (an Elephant 6 band that I had heard of but hadn’t heard yet). They were really good and I bought both their records. Other than that, the rest of the day was spent driving.
Saw some interesting billboards like, "Who’s the father? Call 1-800-DNA-TEST". Also, apparently, Texas has a God campaign going on (kind of like the Dairy, Co. with the "Got Milk?" thing). Anyway, we saw several of these plain black signs with white letters, signed by God (Himself). Examples include: "What part of ‘Thou shall not’ don’t you understand? — God " and "Don’t make me come down there. — God". Something to think about… I guess. Maybe I’ll call 1-800-DNA-TEST and see if God really is the father. Sorry, bad joke. Gotta go. Sleepy.
J*
Friday 3/19/99 6:30ish
I’m at the club (The Copper Tank) where the Sidedoor Johnnies will be playing this evening at 11pm. They’re supposed to be interviewed by some lady from NewsDay (?) but she has not shown up yet.
I really want to see the Flaming Lips this evening (show time 1 am,) but word on the street has it that the show will be impossible to get into. I’m not concerned though. This Copper Tank joint that I am at right now is really big, and Built To Spill is playing after the Sidedoor Johnnies (on a different stage.) so I’m very psyched to see that… especially since word on the street has it that that show is also a sold out impossibility… but hey, I’m in now and I plan on continuing to be in.
So I’m sitting on this really nice plush leather couch that’s in the room and is between the two stage rooms, and it is so comfortable that I can’t even feel the flask of Captain Morgan’s that is in my back pocket, sinking into the couch. I get two free drinks here (one of which I already used on the bartender’s choice… something "copper" beer… I don’t remember) because the Johnnies told the bar that I was in their band. So I got one more drink coming, and I bought a Pepsi at the pizza joint across the street to mix my CM flask with. I decided this morning that I wasn’t taking this article very seriously…being that I’ve been eating two large meals a day. So I gathered up my balls and here I go. So I haven’t had anything but booze since noon, when we ate breakfast at an IHOP.
This guy, Jim Festa, who writes for Jersey Beat and is a friend of the Johnnies, went to lunch with us. He was really cool and picked up the tab (props). I had a two-margarita lunch and resisted the notion of free food, so I think I’m back on track… or on track at last. Oh yeah, and the margaritas were two bucks each. Do you believe that shit… cheap alcohol is so comforting.
There’s a bunch of Japanese (punk?) bands playing on the other stage (the stage that Built To Spill is playing on later) who are sound checking, so I’m going to go check them out now… and I have to take a piss. I’ll let you know how it went later. Um… bye.
J*
The urinal in the bar bathroom just told me to "Say No To Drugs." The motto was actually in the toilet for all to piss upon. Some people just have no concept of affective advertising.
3/18 1:56am
Johnnies rocked. Saw a little of Built To Spill. Heard a rumor that Weird Al was at the Johnnies show. Tired.
J*
Sat. 3/20(?)/99???
Yeah, okay. So I guess I haven’t written today. So, we’ll try to backtrack, 4-Track, AM track it.
We’re in Little Rock, Arkansas. And it’s the Sidedoor Johnnies’ post party. I missed the first band that played because I was at an Arkansas pizza joint breaking my beer fast. It should be known that I hadn’t eaten a thing since noon or whenever the fuck it was that we ate at IHOP yesterday. Okay, I had two chips at the margarita lunch, but that was it. Anyway, this morning, we got on the road around, 9am and we didn’t stop to eat until 12 or 1. I had to resist breakfast… mostly resisted breakfast. It was Denny’s. I had a blueberry muffin and the remainder of Dan’s eggs, because I don’t care if I’m beer-fasting, I ain’t letting good food go to waste. So I at least went twenty-four hours without food and just Captain Morgan’s, Pepsi, Dr. Pepper, and Shiners (for some reason, Alan and some friends are growling in unison right now, "I want to KILL… YOU!") Then, I had the muffin and stuck it straight until around 7pm when we were pulling into Little Rock and I started semi-hallucinating and talking crazy (I’m not sure if anyone else noticed).
So, I stuck it out a little longer and went out to get some beers for the party (which was supposed to be down by the river at some pavilion that’s outdoors where the Little Rockers go and play all the time, but it rained some and they moved the gig to the house where they were going to have the post-show party anyway.) I was going to get some beers, and Mike, Evan, and Miika came with me, but they were going to stop and get some pizza. I went with them and had a couple of Shiners (on tap instead of in the bottle like in Austin). Then, I broke and ate some pizza. With the drinking I was planning on doing (and am doing,) I never would have made it without food. I was shaking, and just not feeling healthy at all. So I had two small slices as a base, and then I was feeling much better.
So I left the pizza joint before the other guys because I was worried I’d miss the first band (with Rett and Nate) which I did. But it was cool… Rett and Nate were also in the second band, Riot Wreck Act, and they rocked out. It’s been so long since I’ve witnessed this sort of scene -- the punk rock thing -- and I needed the experience. The vocals (PA) had technical difficulties, but the power was there. (By the way, there is an arm wrestling tournament going on in front of me. This guy who they tell me is called John T, who was the singer in Riot Wreck Act, is cleaning house. Rett gave him a run for his money, but John T is an arm wrestling machine). So… I was buying beer at the Stax Stax Stax and I ran into Nate (who I met a couple of times… the first time I met him was the first night I was in Arkansas when he showed up briefly with a "smokable apple"). I ran into him and his friend John (not John T,) at the Stax Stax Stax, and John was driving, so they gave me a ride back to the party.
This guy, Nate, has yet another interesting tattoo -- sort of along the same lines as Alan’s tattoo. In fact, Nate’s is a tattoo concept. On the same arm, he has the Cobra logo (from GI Joe) on the shoulder and the Storm Shadow ninja logo on his inner wrist. It’s great. And when Riot Wreck Act was playing, Nate was playing this bad-ass red flying-V guitar (he said it wasn’t his, but it was so choice).
So, just now this girl, Kim, stopped by (who I found out is Eileen’s sister) and she asked what I was up to (mind you, I’m at a large party right now, filled with mostly people I don’t know at all, and I’m writing in this little journal-book thing, just being the most anti-social person alive, but I need to write things now so I don’t forget them.) When I told her what I was up to, she asked if I wanted to see her tattoo, and I told her that I did. She let me get a photograph of her tattoo, which means "Trouble" in Chinese. Very provocative, I must say. And for those of you who have been reading all along, Kim is the girl who had the sandals from Target. And an hour after seeing them, Mike owned the same sandals…. trouble indeed.
So, I have to say that Riot Wreck Act rocked… again. Punk Rock! Rhett was really great -- especially for someone who didn’t seem too confident in his own abilities when I spoke to him earlier… on some song,s even busting the trip through the delay pedal which added a nice twist. Jeremy powered out punk bass but had notable skills, which can’t be said for a lot of punk bassists. Nate, well you all know Nate. And Sam ripped the drums apart like Jason Weiner (of The Emily Rock Group)… nice back and forth on the all the drums which again made for a really cool, unique punk outfit. Killer shit. And John T (the arm wrestling champion of the world) just got pissed at the mic… if that gives you any idea at all what the show was like. Unfortunately, we couldn’t hear John T that well because of the PA (Sorry John T,) but the presence and the heart were there.
Then, the Johnnies took the stage. And I know I didn’t write much about the Austin show, but that’s only because the guys seemed sort of down after the show. I think they were a little down because of the set up they were put in, with the two stages. It was really kind of bull shit -- they weren’t letting more people into the place because it was "sold-out", but the majority of the people were packing into the other room to see Built To Spill… even though Built To Spill wasn’t even starting for another hour and a half. Johnnies still rocked as always, but they cursed at the entire South-By-Southwest festival as we left Austin.
Still… tonight, in Little Rock, they were so much better than the typical good show. First off, all of the shows (the whole house) was loud as fuck… louder than any house I’ve ever been in or played in… yet no complaints all night. And the Johnnies performed superbly. It was the most raw, honest Johnnies show I’ve seen since Binghamton, when I first saw them play. The elements were all there and it was a good scene… a good vibe. Mike hit every beat like… well, like Mike Skinner does (if you don’t know who Mike Skinner is then just imagine the best drummer ever… and then I guess you know the boy. Miika had the full Miika-Grady-Groove-Thang on and kicking, with his back to the audience the whole show.
Dan was punk-solid the whole show and took pride as he vehemently kicked his pedals with the heel of his foot because the room was so small that he had to keep his rack behind him. They cranked my favorites, "City House," which I haven’t heard in awhile (and it was the best that I’ve ever heard it played,) and closing with "Cuervo". The crowd was very receptive, and the Johnnies really seemed to be having a good time, which I had worried was killed by the Austin show.
So shit… it’s a great night and I want to enjoy it. I’ve been sitting here writing in a chair in the corner of the kitchen and everyone is staring at me as they pass, and Jay just passed me a blunt. This will probably be my last entry, because we’re leaving sometime tonight (during the party,) and from the time we leave until the time we get home, I will most definitely be either driving or in a coma. I love you guys.
J*
P.S. A girl just asked me what my sign was. I told her to guess. She asked if I was an "earth sign".
I said, "What’s an earth sign?"
She said, "Do you know what I’m talking about?"
I said, "I guess I don’t."
She listed three signs of the zodiac that are considered "earth signs" and then asked me if I was one of them.
I told her, "No".
She said, "Well, I was just asking."
I told her I’m a Gemini.
She said, "Oh, that’s an ‘air sign’."
I asked her what that meant. She said that air signs can blend into a crowd.
I said, "No, that’s not me." I thought that I stood out quite nicely, being that I was the only one at the party who was sitting alone in a corner writing in a journal.
She told me that it meant blend-into-a-crowd, like not being noticed.
I thought for a second and then said, "Yeah, that’s me."
She said, "And you’re smart."
I said, "What?"
She said, "Smart."
I said, "Well, I wouldn’t say that."
She said, "Well, not ‘smart’ like everybody thinks ‘smart’… like ‘smart’ where nobody knows you’re smart."
Then she backed into a wall and knocked a tack-board that was hanging there onto the floor. She looked at me and said, "You didn’t see that."
Then she walked out of the kitchen and, on the way out, looked back at me, and I think she said, "Believe." I don’t know for sure. I could be wrong.
She had told me her name at the beginning of the conversation, and I’m sorry that I don’t remember it (even though it was only a few minutes ago)… I’m sorry if she remembers mine.
J*
(editor’s note: at this point in the J*’s journal, the bottom portion of the last page has been neatly torn away and discarded)
Monday 3/22/99
(Final Words)
We drove through the night and through the day on Sunday. At some point during the trip, I realized that I was still wearing five rubber bands (I had planned on launching them into the Arkansas River, had the Saturday show been held at the riverfront).
I had left the sixth one behind somewhere in the house (I had written messages on them with a pen while at the Copper Tank in Austin). So, on the ride home, I thought about the rubber bands and how they never really served any purpose, but then I thought about the one I had left behind and the writing on it and it gave me what I think is a really good idea. So, I’ve got work to do… so that’s what the trip taught me -- not that it needed to teach me anything.
J*
Oh yeah… and in conclusion, a diet of just drinking and no food is hard to accomplish… mostly because many places that you may go don’t have alcohol… and because it makes you go mental. Thanks for the read.