Written September 1991 (Mr Brando was 67, Charlie was about to go 26)
(More + transcript after the jump)
I'm feeling like a very large turd on a very thin stick. I'm holed up in bed and taking everything from sled dog urine to powderde East Indian vulva — maybe won't work tomorrow if I feel the same.
I really feel bad for not showing up at your birthday bash but I really feel shitty and best stay in bed. I don't have much of a selection. I'm sure it will be a kick in the ass and I hate to miss it —
Happiest of birthdays to you, Charlie