Postcards from Tucson

No, I'm asking. For real. What did I do? Because I don't really remember all the details to share. No, I wasn't “altered”. There are just some things that are so...involving....that there's not enough of you left over to remember that something pretty fuckin' amazing is going on. Nuff said.

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I'm sitting on the bed right now, writing, and Sam is playing guitar. He and Reggie live in a freestanding house now. He can make lots of noise, any kinds, and it doesn't matter. This is new for him and he's one happy camper.

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Ryan thinks I was just being nice, but Sam knows I'm never nice. I'm just blunt....with both compliments and criticisms (which are nearly always constructive anyhow). So it's just plain true about Ryan. He's definitely a special guy. You'll see it within moments of meeting him in person. And if you don't, you need to get your brain checked (see? constructive!).

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I found out yesterday that Reggie and Sam have only known each other for a few months. Surprising as hell if you could see how they are together. Reggie on her own is cooler than god. She could kick your ass..and kick my ass....she definitely kicks Sam's ass. It's all good.

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And Sam's friend, Patrick. Uhhhhh...yeah....Well, I rode on his Harley Fatboy...and without a helmet. Two firsts for me. He gives good ride. Ask Sam, he'll tell you.