Hey Jake,So, yeah. Gone. Sorry about that. I know I always said we'd sit around in San Diego someday, watching the sun go down and drinking some decent scotch (and whatever that crap is that you drink), and I'd write my memoirs. But I guess something came up. I am sure I would have liked the other plan better. Oh, well.In case you were wondering, no, I'm not about to go into details here. You wouldn't appreciate or understand half of what I could say anyway. I don't mean that as a put down old friend. It's just that this stuff requires a ton of context, and you don't have that, nor should you. It's honestly not that interesting and too much of it is pretty petty anyway. In the same way I wouldn't know what the subtleties of a Klingon insult are, you wouldn't get a lot of this.But yeah, I do have things to say. Better get on with it. I'm writing this in San Paulo, in Brazil. I'm in a high rise, overlooking one of the shantytown cities. San Paulo is such a concrete example of the haves. The one called Eddie was cute in a greasy kind of way. He had greasy looking hair and there was black under his nails. They all had ragged beards and tats everywhere, so it was hard use that in a description. Eddie was taller and thiner than most. I mean some were tall and some were thin, but he had both things going for him. He didn't look junkie thin as some of the smaller ones did. He looked almost gym rat thin."What's your name girlie?" Eddie asked."Name is Sylvia," I said lifting my beer. I found the glass of draft beer to be ice cold, so cold it had no taste, which was fine with me. I never liked the taste of ordinary beer."Sylvia, what brings you here? You have to know this place is like a club, not just anyone gets in," Eddie said."I'm not looking to join, just to have a beer," I said."This is not the place for a hard woman, unless she can go with the flow like these others," he said.I took a look around. The women in the room would have frozen to death, if the temperature in.
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