Curt had an operation. It hurt. He got a lot of Percocet. It gave him some not-so-pleasant side effects, so he stopped taking it.
Percocet is good. Vicodin is good. Alcohol is good, Ativan is good. Other illicit drugs are good. Anything that takes our minds off of our pain, physical, mental or both is, well, good.
Good for making us forget that we're not where we thought we'd be in our lives or even today.
And for taking the edge off the horror of recalling our stupid mistakes.
And for helping us make those stupid mistakes again.
And for making us eat any and all junk food in the house.
And for making us submit crappy writing to really good magazines.
And for making us drunk dial and e-mail, illucidly make important decisions and impulsively express things that can't be taken back.
And for making us think that singing karaoke is a good idea.
(Actually, the karaoke went quite well, thank you. I couldn't decide what to sing so someone picked "Because the Night," originally by Patti Smith, covered by 10,000 Maniacs and then by this maniac).
So, Curt, I hope you feel better soon. I miss you, adore you and, though disappointed that I didn't receive any wacky e-mails while you were taking the Percocet, I'm glad you refrained from the other stuff listed above. Though if you did karaoke without me, you're dead.