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Geckos do rock, no doubt!

Jeff K


I don't often have occasion to use the word "rapt", but as your journals of your escapades forcefully prevented me from peeing, smoking, or opening a new beer for the better part of the last hour, it seems like now's a good time. Not that I will actually use it, of course.

Despite being an incomplete stranger to you (we've spoken on 3 occasions, none of which being under circumstances memorable to you), I'm going to be so bold as to comment on your life and mental state. Fucking presumptious of me, I know, but that rarely stops me.

Anyway, reading your journal, I must admit your sabbatical seems to be having the intended affect. With what little observational authority I have, it certainly seems to me like your head's clearing a bit and your soul's balancing out. The petty covetous part of me that wants you chained to a bass and a microphone for my listening enjoyment recoils at saying so, but I'm happy for you. It took gigantic balls to escape like you did, and it appears to have been for the best.

On the homefront, I found a copy of Songs We Should Have Written in an Atlanta shithole record shop, new, for $9.00... I'm not really this naive, but it's amusing to imagine some of that will make it's way to you and go towards that new watch (or perhaps ant killer). Or at least half a can of beer...

Hope things continue to go well. I'll check in here every once in a while; take care of yourself and let us know how that pirate book is coming.


PS - Supaporn, hands down.

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