I'm illing and able.

[jacktellslies]

Tonight I found my way to an underground bar (Safe from the war, as Robert said. Nine steps closer to hell, I added.) with friends, including Courtney, back from the south for the briefest of stays, and a DJ. I'm the bartender's roommate, so all I had to do was encourage him to create things, to give me adventures, and suddenly I was standing by the bar in a suit and holding a martini glass containing something new and interesting and unnameable. He wouldn't even let me tip him, let alone pay my tab. So, should you find yourself at Bar Noir with a handsome young barkeep named Terrance, please tip him well and write something dirty on a napkin for him on my account.