November 3rd, 1994 - Midnight - 3am.

What the hell is wrong with me? Am I dying?
Please Lord, I've only had 22 years.

I'm excelling beyond my years as a chef, and there is way too much music left to play.
Too many places to go, and many things left to conquer.

Have I had a massive stroke?
Surely it must be, words are impossible to say, and my vision has become cloudy and hazed. I drop guitar picks and cigarettes... and I face plant myself every three steps. A long yawn is followed by three hours of napping.

Surely this is what will be my end... a slow decline... a long blink... if I had only known, I would have played the song different.

But alas, death does wait. I watch it, I stare... I feel its presence in the room.

Unsure of my fears.
All that I am positive of.. is that I am watching the last moments of possibly the only man I ever loved.

Without a doubt the biggest cheerleader of my talents, without having this man in my life I doubt my culinary direction would have been the same.

Thank you Izzy, I know where you are going to be... a few days ahead of me and I know you will prepare my place.

I felt I had ample time to grab a smoke, maybe take the edge of death off my weak shoulders.
If only I had known, he was dead when I stepped upon that nasty Marlboro butt.
Izzy is gone. My father has left... so he could prepare a place.

It's now my turn to die.. and I know exactly how he felt.

 ~Midnight to 3am... November 3rd.. 1994