First off, how were all of your weekends? Mine was way too short and my body decided that it was fed up with all the shit I've been through and shut down on me. The problem is that my mind wasn't tired and the little green gremlins started wrecking havoc with my psyche. I'm not ready to post about what I am feeling right now because I just want a break from it. Essentially, I need to gather my thoughts and then tell all of you how much I need you to stick around and help me out. I may have completed my treatments, but my recovery is just starting. Life is such a wonderful pain in the ass, sometimes.
I'll share a few jokes with you to lighten the mood. These are some that I have heard recently.
How many surrealists does it take to screw in a light bulb?
There's these two guys watching a dog lick his balls. One of the guys turns to the other and says, "Gosh, I wish I could do that." The other guy remarks, "Well, don't you think you should start out by petting him first?"
Finally, the requisite blond joke:
A blond walks up to a counter and says, "Yeah, I'd like to order a cheeseburger." The woman behind the counter answers tersely, "Young lady, this is a library." The blond then whispers back, "Oh, sorry. I'd like to order a cheeseburger."
How about those Oscars? I was so happy about "No Country for Old Men" doing so well. A lot of people didn't like that movie, especially the way it ended. I totally got the movie and the ending. I could watch that movie again and again. I will also constantly have nightmares of Siguor coming at me with a cattle gun.
Post break time: Watching "The Wire" on HBO. Will be back in an hour.
I'm back and now I'm really not sure where I take this post from here. I did a short post at 120 dB's, my almost defunct music blog. The post was just a short riff on the "sound" of radiation.
I need to thank the person that I talked to on the phone tonight while I was on a walk. Usually, I take off and my mind sorts things out, gets clear. Not tonight, however. Going past the cemetery where Drunk "D" was buried, and the wooded park where I was almost abducted as a child, were just going to dredge up more of the junk at the bottom of the pond. I needed some light-hearted chat tonight. Thanks a million for making it easier for me. I know I didn't let on that I was having problems, but now you have it--well, at least part of the story.
I've got a bad rash. I think my skin couldn't take the stress anymore, and Friday morning there it was. I've also been waiting and waiting to celebrate with some Mexican food, but since my esophagus is fried like a churro, I am not ready yet.
Another work week begins and I am curious as to what just working without doing cancer treatments will be like. I have been close to imploding for some time now. I need a break, but I've got mucho medical bills to pay. I also want to change jobs. But I fear that I am suddenly throwing too much on my plate too soon. I don't want to settle comfortably in a rut again, yet I also need to rest and get my bearings. I don't know how to shut my mind up and just chill the eff out. I wonder if that Calgon shit really works.
Which brings me to brooms. Brooms? Yes, those motherfuckers. Wait, weren't you the guy who just said "eff" instead of fuck? I am and I did. Don't waste your time pointing out my inconsistencies to me, because I am full of them and it...and I know it. If only you knew. Anyway, brooms, the ones that you sweep shit up with. What if you found that your household broom, sitting in your kitchen closet, could take you flying like a witch's broom? Where would you go first? Would you just say nuts to work and other responsibilities and just get the hell outta Dodge? I would, and so my imaginary pet goldfish Rodger would die. Sad that.
You guys would cover me, right? He doesn't eat much, Rodger. He loves the sushi, the sick bastard.
Try the coffee cake. I made it myself.
3 years ago