Tuesday, May 1

I remedy yesterday's oversight with cold efficiency:  E. Williams and tonic by day, Black Maple Hill and a cube of ice by night.  Bourbon and tonic might not immediately seem like an appealing drink - and it isn't. 
It is nevertheless endearing.

My friends, I've two days of left of this bourbon project.  I'm somewhat at a loss as to what manner I should give my farewells.  I've considered drinking an entire fifth of bourbon and then jogging.  I hate jogging, though. 

This semester has been one of the worst times of my entire life.  It has had its kicks to be sure - most of them involving bourbon and manfriends and late nights that went too late, much to my own shame.  But deep inside the amount of work and stress and negligence which I've endured and self-produced has been extremely damaging.  I mean this sincerely (well, as sincere as things get around here).  I feel like half the man I was when I started, and that man way back then was already a dick.

Forgive the dour mood.  I raise a glass to the coming end of the semester, foul beast that it has been, turning patches of my beard both gray and white.  Evan, friend, can you get the lights?