Got a friend with kidney failure. Got a friend with gout. Got a friend with pertussis. Got a friend with stage 2 lymphoma. Nice thing is I got four friends, right? 'nuther friend gave me his dead dad's watch to fix. Shit Lorus from the '70s. Needs a new case, new crystal, gawd knows what else. It's gonna come apart when I open it up 'cuz it's a shit Lorus from the '70s. But I also got a new fire-breathing ultrasonic cleaner from hell. Took the band off, mixed up some dilute Simple Green and put it in a 400W ultrasonic cleaner. Turned the water black. Hit it with a toothbrush and new Green. Turned the water gray. Hit it with a toothbrush and new Green. Turned the water gray again. I'm trying to wash a dead man out of his watch for his son and the dude refuses to go. Cleaner than it was; dude is still up in there though. In the end, we're all arm cheese. Went camping last weekend. Used newspapers my inlaws have been hoarding to light a campfire. Back in May '93 you could see Totoro, The Dark Half, Who's the Man, Benny & Joon, Strictly Ballroom, The Adventures of Huck Finn and The Crush at one goddamn multiplex. Turn the page and there's an ad for Lollapalooza '93 with Tool on the second stage. I saw that show. Tool was dope. It's all Freedom Rock now. (turn it up, man!) Friend with Lymphoma asked about the book covers on my wall. Told him it's from my bullshit failed novel that my agent didn't wanna buy. He told me to write another. I told him if two New York Times bestselling novelists can't convince me to write another goddamn book he's not gonna stand a chance in hell. Fucker got strident. Asked if I found it hard or something. Told him it was like breathing. Fuck books. Dropped him off after lunch and he insisted again. Fuck books. What sucks is when you feel vaguely dissatisfied and you look around and everyone else is really and truly in the shit and you take your level of disdain and multiply it by three oxycontins a day to deal with the eight inch scar ear to collarbone raised to the power of trying to figure out how to pay for treatment and your heart hurts. buttherearesomanygoddamnstarfishThe boy picked up a starfish, gently tossed it into the water and turning to the man, said, “I made a difference to that one.”
Can't enjoy the nice bubble you've worked hard to create for your family because everywhere you look you see friends and strangers in the pits. That's hard. I'm reading Chris Wilson's The Master Plan. He was black kid from DC caught in the game. Shot and killed a guy that was jumping him. Chris was 17 and this was the 90s--superpredators and tough on crime--so he got life in jail. It's difficult to read, but he talks about incorporating positive delusions. Starting with an endgame in mind and not listening to anyone, especially yourself, when it came to visualizing and working towards it. I doubt some paragraphs will do much to change your despondency at the sheer number of starfish out there. But the book is something else.