By King Khan
When we arrived at the airport he bought me some water and a beer. We went to the bathroom where he threw up standing with the door of the toilet stall wide open, i was blowing my nose so hard it sounded like a trumpet and looked like an abortion had come out of my nostril. We were the only two guys in the bathroom and then in walks this old Brazilian man who must have been like 70 years old. He was in slow motion. When he opened the door he took one look at us, me with bloody slimeball in hand, and jay vomitting. He just turned around and left. We erupted into very loud maniacal laughter. We flew into Buenos Aires, checked into a luxurious hotel, and went swimming. We sat by the pool and talked about how great things had turned out for us. We went for a bite to eat and walked around the city for a few hours, he spoke of how he had made peace with his dad and was really stoked about that. We sat down and ate a nice meal and he got the check.
Later that night we played in a soccer club house for a strange party of people who may or may not have really got what we were doing, but whatever we had a shit load of fun. I saw him piss in some soccer trophy backstage, it was a real hoot.
I miss him everyday and I know that wherever he may be right now he is surrounded by all the legends that made us who we are. Jay Reatard was a real rock n roller, a true death cult champion and the first and only male lips that have ever touched my penis. There I said it.