Gin-soaked boy
◊ Let me tell you a little about Dan.
I'm not going to tell you anything useful or revealing, or helpful, even, because I don't feel like sharing that much. So take what you can get and be thankful for it.
Dan is, on his good days, a cross between Tom Waits and Dr. Frank N. Furter from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
On his not-as-good days, he's a lot like reading a Richard Brautigan novel.
He loves a good Zen koan and a good dirty joke, probably in equal proportions.
He can touch the tip of his nose with his tongue.
He can do other things with his tongue, as well.
He's the world's best smoker. Only Bill Hicks could've given him a run for his money, but Hicks is dead. Too bad.
He's the only person I know that really gets that Zen idea of nothingness, probably because he wants it so bad sometimes.
Almost every word out of his mouth is a song lyric, a quotation, an impersonation, or a complex in-joke. It took me more than two years with him before I could catch even half of them.
Please don't read this like it's an epitaph. It's not.