HEY! “Ah, fuck. Not you.” Cigarettes, Jeff Chimenti? How could you do that to your hair? “It’s a joint.” No, it isn’t. You work for the Grateful Dead. You wouldn’t sneak outside to smoke a joint. That’s a Marlboro you’re puffing on. “Well, they’re not feeding me or Oteil again. It helps keeps the hunger … Continue reading Smoke On The Balcony, Fire In The Sky