It was a vicious, unprovoked attack.

Well, maybe not unprovoked. Or vicious. I was drunk and I spilled a drink at Victor's house. That is my heinous crime. I am, as I was then, unimpressed. I didn't mean to do it. Other people got up to clean it, so I sat back down. And got punched in the leg. It was weird. I still think it's funny how scared and upset everyone got over a spilled drink. Everyone but Ray. He didn't even get off the couch. If more people could be like Ray the world would be a kinder place.

Bob said to me last night, "Yeah, but you weren't even gonna clean it up." Maybe I wasn't. Maybe I enjoy fucking people over. In your face Victor. That's what you get for being cool. Yeah.

Last week Ray spilled something on my carpet. He didn't mean to do it. I didn't mind. I cleaned it up for him. Quid pro quo.

Then there was Saturday night. We were going to the AMC theater in Mission Valley. Dominic got mad at me. He yelled at me. Made me feel dumb. In front of people. He was freaking out. He was scared. It's happened before. Does he have a problem? I don't know. What did I do? I tried to help. At first. Then I started taunting him. Maybe that wasn't the right thing to do. I'm sorry. At first he seemed to know where he was going, then he asked for directions. I started guiding him along the route I would have taken. Shortly after that things went wrong, tragically wrong.

Why do people who know me well ask me for directions? I usually fly by the seat of my pants no matter where I'm going. The journey is more important than the destination. I think Dom thought I was trying to trick him. Why would I do that? We had 10 minutes to get to the movie, a movie I really wanted to see, a movie that I got everyone together to go see. Maybe instead of asking me for directions he should have asked me for moral support. I can give that.