So here is one New Year's resolution, launched with the order resulting from Canadian Club and wells of lonliness. Already I must chastise and forewarn myself a procrastinator; for isn't it already January 2 as I write!
New Years eve was spent in typical army fashion—a herd of male animals gathered at the alcoholic salt lick, which all is neither good nor bad. The discussions of late, began with 'sure would like to go back to the states', had a group chorus of bitchin, mostly about staff sarg. pilots and discipline, with a second verse of the typical male bull-fest of sex wishes and histories—on such high level as Ken Quick's ture love and marriage to the basest of _?_ vices. (Don't be a hypocrit, Stod, you hate 'em!)
So I'll turn a page and pretend it's another day. I must get in the groove.
Mail run #4 today with George Amsbr (?), a good joe!
