Dear Jimbo,

I hope the mask-making is still treating you well. It’s been too long since Halifax, Saint Pete’s, Queen Street, your affair, the move, Bar Harbour, Mystic, all that mast climbing and bow jumping, tab dropping and joint rolling, we were so fit, I’m still stretching, you?

Got a job in an office now, renewable energy, go figure. My boss has three Ferraris, two Lamborghinis, and a slew of other toys I rarely notice. 15th richest man in Spain, got me a mortgage, and is surprisingly cool. Subtle chains. A far cry from Captain Paul and his spinnaker lentils and stolen garlic. How much dosh did he fuck us out of our youth?

I still haven’t filled that notebook you gave me for your wedding. The Legion. Epic. You know I always was a great filler, still am. Love seeing your kids fill your feed, they’re getting so big and gorgeous, all that horse riding and goal scoring and good clean country air, might soon be off to university, eh? Kings? It is hard to admit sometimes I wish I had some.

Anecdotally, I’m sanding beams, ripping up tile, got kidney stones, and slipped a disk. The former caused the latter and I am still trying to figure out what Crew-mate Healing is trying to whisper in my plugged ear. Aging is not for the weak. Demolition should be funner. Shinny up the mizzen, treacle! But I imagine you know all this on your surfboard. You should put one of those whales on your podcast, I mean really, like interview it, really. Deeply.

I’d listen.

The world has changed much since we discovered Gilgamesh and Kant and those sparkly walks to the liquor store. Remember when we discovered that the guy selling the sign language cards wasn’t deaf or in Yonkers when I told you I was jumping ship or when Daniel got HIV in Amsterdam, did you hear Newfie John died last month, self-assisted the Big C in B.C. I was so happy to hear your wife recovered.

I could go on and hope we do but I always feel I am just scratching a surface, bloody nails, spinning rubber tires on black ice, never remembering nor projecting right. These days, I always open too many windows in the morning and spend the rest of the day closing them. Who knew attention was finite, tell your kids that gem.

I’m up for a call anytime Saturday, as for being a guest on the podcast, let’s talk, but I have so little to say, as for being a guest in your home, put the keg in the river brother, hope to be near your wood neck come August.

miss you, hugs to the
family. el Turco says
we never parted.

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