Posted: January 28, 2013 in Uncategorized


Portrait on map by Ed Fairburn

In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been really lousy about my blogging regime this month.  But I tend not to like when people give excuses their own online/social media absences. It gives the impression of having spent time in prison.  It’s desperate and self-important, two qualities I criticize most likely because I am guilty of possessing each of them.

I find that I can deal with almost everything.  It’s the impermanence, the uncertainty of each morning where I face the most challenging decision on which civilization rests: “omelette?”  or “fruit shake?” Because no one told this bitch what severe hand that cancer and chemo play into the disintegration of your memory, your everyday sense of proportionate space.  Not only does your body purely take on the role of a machine, but what you’re using in the first place is a machine in disrepair.  The day-to-day issues of physical mobility, ingestion, medication, constipation — all of these things take on a tactical, machinery life of their own and after a few weeks, you get used to it and it doesn’t feel so debasing.

Getting a lot of questions from my New York family asking if I’m going to finish my R-CHOP there.  I’m not quite there yet.  I’ve been subletting my apartment in Brooklyn since December.  The seasons are about to change and I should figure out how to make living feasibly, with caution and with care.  So April seems like the most plausible time to return.  The trouble with committing this to paper and imagining taking the subway alone after my rounds is that no day 7-9 days after this treatment tends to to feel the same.  You find yourself both weak and strong; bored and enlightened; angelic and insufferably diabolical.  I am still trying to find a middle place between these daily pendulums, but also trying to not make any plan or decision that feels disingenuous.  It’s true.  What they say about illness really hacking through the “fudge” – (a word my Dad uses instead of “shit” – which, I don’t know, don’t you think, like, in a way is so much more grotesque?)

This Saturday, my ass was seriously being handed to me over the flu. Didn’t eat a thing the entire day and had such an outerbody experience to my nausea that I actually lay comatose while No Way Out and An Affair to Remember played on PBS.  The next morning, to force myself to eat, I sprinkled some Willy Wonder (an indica strain) into a blueberry, pineapple, orange, almond milk smoothie Dad prepared for me in the Vitamix — and it was his first experience with the blender.  And today was a much better day.

If you ever just want to enjoy life more, make sure that the fun being had is at the expense of absurdity whenever possible.  And go make yourself a smoothie.

This week, I will find a way to bring my absurdity complex to Snoqualmie Falls.  This is how it looks in the summertime.


Tomorrow is the 2nd PET Scan.  I wish you all a great week!

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