Jake.

There once was a golden retriever puppy that chewed on my pony tail, and when he was done moved on to attack my feet. The cutest thing. Somehow that was ten years ago.

Liver cancer is a silent and swift killer. Ironically I have been reading a book about the many ways the liver can kill. This book is full of fictional tales of people dysfunctionally, and yet all at once effortlessly achieving the win: despite themselves, consumed by last days and all, they find a truth that is unwavering- the end is the end, and everything else is fleeting.

Somehow, ten years have passed. Today, Jake's liver took him home for the long haul and left me a little breathless, teary-eyed and searching the sky for some noticeable change. There isn't any. Not that the death of a family pet should turn the sky green, but in the passing of an old friend I always seek a marked change, and can never find it. It is only years later, in some smaller moment, that I catch the significance of their passing. The last time I lost a friend it came to me in a cup of coffee in the middle of spring, spiraling out in waves of creamer. Slowly blending until the distinction of coffee from cream had vanished and all that was left was a cup of java, just like on the days before. I await the day when I can comprehend Jake's passing more completely. For now I'll try to run it off and hope that when I get home for Christmas I can find a way to say a belated, but proper goodbye.

Oh, dear friend, I know I'll see you again.
In the mean time, days will pass without you
I'll do my best, to let the sadness slide away
And relish in how good it is to have loved you.

Some thoughts on the first of December.

Swollen belly on account of an exceptionally successful Turkey Day. This has been added to and improved upon by an absurd amount of Mexican food provided by my job. Fabulous. It is already Wednesday, and last I checked, the week had just started. I dig this fact quite a bit.

Last night a dear friend absolutely killed-it at his company's launch party: Root Music is well on its way to being something epic. My high school love of hip hop was fully expressed last night via Del The Funkee Homosapien, Heiroglyphics, and some straight up dirty danncing: ass out; grindin'; cheesin'; feelin' it.

I have every intention of dressing up like Santa Claus in the midst of hundreds of other Santa Clausizzizzis(izisisis) and getting wasted this Saturday. Now if ever there has been a more professional sounding sentence, I beg of you to show it to me.

And now for a few bullet points:

• Made a new friend on the train this morning. Awesome.
  
• I live in San Francisco- still a very fun fact.
  
• Oh, Happinesses, I thank thee for joining me in my routine of these fine, unusually sunny days (Being grownded in Seattle has left its mark).

I leave you with a quote:

"Never take life too seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway."