October 15th, 2003

My mood is as desolate as this place, old friend. Montana has nothing but trees and hills and picturesque brooks. You would love it, Ripper. But you know it doesn't suit me. I prefer the artificial lights of the big city and the action of nightlife. How I long for a good pub, an easy brunette and a two-bit hotel. Instead, I am at this very moment enjoying the rank piss they dare to call beer here. Oh well, it will still get me drunk which is my intention this miserable evening.

You see, the drugs are losing their effect. I've suspected as much but wasn't sure if the pain was increasing or the medications were failing. For all the energies I gain, I waste every drop keeping myself from succumbing to the pain. I need a better source. Something that can keep me going for an extended time.