The weeks just end nowadays

A few days later, I got the call from my brother Pat (he's the smart looking one on the left) who lives in LA. His wife Becca who had been in the hospital for about a week, wasn’t doing too hot.














Becca's been dealing with cancer on and off for about fifteen years, but the last few have been especially brutal. Following the joyfull birth of their beautiful baby girl—Adeline Prae (the funky drummer to the left)—it was pretty much straight into multiple treatments, surgery, surgery to deal with complications from the surgery, more treatments, etc.
Hard times.
I drove up to LA to be in Pat's area for the weekend, and on the way up I got a call from Kemper. He rented a car in Vegas and was driving out to be with Pat, too.
Comfort comes in waves.





When I got there, I hooked up with a few friends of mine, Hunter (top left) and Joey (middle left) who I met earlier this summer, and Kevin (bottom left) who I’ve known for almost a decade now.









































They were in town for the X Games, which ironically, I had no idea was happening, and were staying at this downtown spot called The Standard. Pretty fucking funky, right in the mix, and the floor was free.
Save your pennies.













When I saw them, they gave me hugs—like true bros do—dropped a pair of custom shoes on me (left), pushed me into a car, took me out to eat, and then to Nacional for the Tiffany/Diamond Dunk release party (bottom left).



























Don’t worry, though (not that you would) you didn’t miss anything outside of the normal shit you’d witness on any Friday night in downtown Lincoln ... other than $18 singles of The Glenlivet.
What's my name again?