the depths

i have to get through this. every time i read about someone with AML
dying, i begin to worry about my own chances. it is utterly dispiriting
to read the many blogs that have turned into memorials.
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dying as art “No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun — for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax — This won’t hurt. ” – Hunter S. Thompson

“A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it.” – Oscar Wilde

Jonah’s Song from Moby Dick by Herman Melville

06-03-08 shattered at the end of each year i look over my journal entries and try to summarize all that has happened. 2008 = cancer.

09-12-08 reflections on my “last” clinic visit

09-22-07 ghosts

“the only girl i’ve ever loved was born with roses in her eyes” Neutral Milk Hotel – Holland, 1945

~ by lentaing on September 10, 2008.