I speak to you in-route from Amsterdam where I have been drinking copious amounts of absinthe and eating marijuana brownies by-the-pound with your former companion Ms. Blowthong, (she say’s hi.)

I know you are out there somewhere, Ken, possibly in some psychotropic state of mind, listlessly watching the same skyscapes I inevitably tend to view before rolling over and passing-out in the dirt after a hard day’s night of festivity.

As you well know, I am a tracker by nature. I will eventually find you, my friend. Of course, I’ll be having a pretty fun go of it in the meantime, and for the record, I hope you do too. ‘Till then, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Without a condom.

Laters,

-h