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But here’s the kicker—some asshole last week, he’s all, “Just a back rub, bro,” and I’m like, fuck off, you ignorant prick! Sexual-massage ain’t no PG-13 bullshit—it’s primal, it’s “fill me with your absence” from *Blue*, that ache you can’t shake. I’m lyin’ there, she’s teasin’ every nerve, and I’m happy as a pig in shit, thinkin’, “This is it, this is the greed I live for!”—more touch, more heat, more everything. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares? Felt like I owned the world for 60 minutes.

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Anyway, I’m about to leave when I spot this painting. It’s a wild mix of colors. I can’t even describe it. It’s like the artist had a meltdown and just went for it. I’m staring, and suddenly, I feel this connection. I’m like, “Wow, this is deep.”

I made a Michelin-starred chef's easy 20-minute pasta dish and it was the perfect quick dinner