The Final Royal Sacrifice

I got serious about dieting and exercising the week before the first hormone shot.

That week and the week of the shot I was focused. Lost four pounds in two weeks. Felt pretty damn good about myself.

Had me a new routine that was paying didvidends. I was King of The World. Determined to be the first human being in recorded history to lose weight during hormone therapy.

I kept cranking and really felt like I was shedding flesh. Weighed myself the week following the shot and I gained a pound. Couldn't fucking believe it. I had not changed anything - still eating like a bird and exercising religiously.

I should have known, though. Everybody kept harping on the weight gain thing - how it is almost impossible not to gain weight in this situation. And Dr. Feelgood made a comment up front that I thought was kind of weird - "You will feel the weight gain in your belly before you see it on the scale."

What?

Truth is, that week - even though I was absolutely convinced I was making progress - when I climbed into my car I felt fat. Felt uncomfortable in the seat. I dismissed it as the work of a Voodoo Priestess.

However this week it is getting worse. I can feel myself gaining weight. I can actually feel my belly expanding. It's kind of like that scene in "Tommy Boy" when Chris Farley is pigging out in the car and David Spade says "I can actually hear you getting fatter."

Again - I haven't changed a goddamn thing. Now my antennae are up, baby. This is going to be a serous battle.

I weigh myself once a week. On Tuesdays. I am not looking forward to next Tuesday.

I am eating no bread, no pasta, no potatos, no rice. I am eating meat. That is the highlight of my day. Oatmeal. Applesauce. Yogurt. Peanuts.

You get the picture. I only eat when my stomach growls and then I eat less than I normally would. And it's not really bothering me. When I decide to go psycho I go psycho. All in.

Question is "How psycho can I get?"

When Christian Bale was making the movie "The Machinist", he lost 55 pounds to get in character. He did it by subsisting on a diet of black coffee, one apple and one tin of tuna a day. Did this for four months.

So.............................................

Just kidding.

The Final Royal Sacrifice to be made is whiskey. When I spoke to the radiologist and we were discussing the effects of hormone therapy he asked "Do you drink?" I was truthful and he reacted as if alcohol was ricin.

I have cut back quite a bit but I am thinking I gotta go drastic. As my waistline expands regardless of diet and exercise, I got it into my head that whiskey is evil (temporarily). Like one sip of whiskey equals 8 pounds of weight gain.

Yesterday the only whiskey I drank was just before bed. And the amount was suitable for an infant.

I didn't die.

This cancer thing is a fluid situation. I will have to make adjustments. But I refuse to give up.

I picture myself coming out of this looking like Matthew McConaughey in "Magic Mike."

'Cause you gotta have goals.

Pay Attention

 "Like the mind set that places men above women, whites above Blacks, and rich above poor, the mentality that places humans above nature is a dysfunctional delusion."

Petra K. Kelly

"For centuries poets, some poets, have tried to give a voice to the animals, and readers, some readers, have felt empathy and sorrow. If animals did have voices, and they could speak with the tongues of angels - at the very least with the tongues of angels - they would be unable to save themselves from us. What good would language do? Their mysterious otherness has not saved them, nor have their beautiful songs and coats and skins and shells and eyes."

Joy Williams

Stars Aligned

 And now I have two Irish poets to soothe my soul and inform my emotions. A glut of pure beauty.

John O'Donahue, courtesy of U2 on New Year's Eve. Seamus Heaney, courtesy of Joe Biden. Biden is fond of Irish poets. At President Biden's inauguration, Lin-Manuel Miranda read one of Heaney's poems.

I was hooked. Already bought a book of his poetry.

Wait, wait, wait.......................don't run away yet. You see reference to poetry and you think "Shit, I don't need this Joe, for Christ sake - not poetry again.............." Just like you run away when I go on about music and lyrics.

I understand where you are coming from. Although the world might be a better place if more people paid attention to poetry.

However, I am in here to talk about me and the transformation (necessary to survive) that I am making in 2021.

What more possibly interesting topic can you imagine than me?

When I was furloughed in 2020 I tried to improve my mind to improve my life. But I took what turned out to be a non-natural and pretentious approach. I thought if I read Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Marcus Aurelius I would be reborn. But as I did it it just didn't feel right. Have you ever read Ralph Waldo Emerson? Good luck with that, baby.

I got some benefit but not the soul-nourishing benefit I am looking for.

The stars aligned in 2021. Randomly (maybe?) Got these two magnificent poets whose poetry resonates with me. Emotions stirred, ladies and gentlemen. Reading their words, memorizing some of it.

Got U2 non-stop on Sirius absolutely inspiring me and drawing out deep emotion. They never let me down.

I began meditating, using a website Keith recommended to me a while back. Meditation works, folks. I never thought it did but the more I explore it the greater benefit I get from it.

I made a firm decision to hit the ground running as I deal with this cancer thing. 2 and 1/2 weeks ago I drastically changed my diet and got very serious about exercising. I already lost some weight and already feel a difference mentally and physically.

I am writing a lot. Writing is the one talent I have that I am proud of. It is the one thing that gives me sweet and total release every single time. It validates my existence.

I started memorization exercises of my own design. Memorizing poetry and quotes that are meaningful to me.

Memorization, exercise and diet are designed to directly confront potential side effects of hormone therapy. Like I said - hittting the ground running.

I am reading the writing of James Clear, a practical life advice guy who connects with me perfectly.

The combined effect of all these things has brought me great peace. It is blowing me away because it all came together randomly but somehow it is having tremendous positive effect on me. Stunning, actually.

I don't do everything every day. I bought a 2021 calendar and set up a schedule to follow. How many days a week to exercise, how many to write, how many to meditate etc. I made it realistic to accomodate my work vs leisure time. I began tracking it so I can feel good about what I accomplish and to wake myself up if I slack off.

Dieting is the only one I do every day.

Please understand - I am not a "schedule" guy. Not a budget guy, not a deadlines and commitments guy, not a discipline guy - I don't like fucking rules or constraints. But this is working for me so far and it feels very right.

The days when I achieve a solid number of my goals leave me feeling so peaceful. I am actually stunned at how good it makes me feel.

I am helping myself at a precise moment where I need help. Coronavirus has worn me down psychologically. Prostate cancer hangs over me like a black cloud. I feel very positive about my chances to kick this thing but I would be lying if I said I didn't worry about it at all.

Strange to say, but maybe having cancer is the catalyst that will wake me the fuck up and put me on the road to happiness and self-actualization. I hate words like self-actualization but it is the best way to describe where I need to go.

I believe there is a bit of mysticism involved here - I did not plan this out. For instance, anyone who knows me well would expect me to lean on the Allman Brothers and Hunter S. Thompson to get through this shit. But that is not how it went. And I don't know why.

Whatever is going on, I like the mix I have brewed up for myself. It makes me feel good.

What else do I need beyond that?

You Feel Me?

The Wire.

Phenomenal show. Omar Little was a kick-ass character, played by Michael K. Williams. Can't believe that little kid killed him. He should rot in the fires of hell. Even though Omar was no angel.

Omar used to say "You feel me?" all the time. As in "Do you understand me?" You know, when he was having a conversation, that was how he made his point.

I love that expression. I am always looking for emotional ways to communicate. Don't like boring language or mindless cliches.

You feel me? gets right down to it. To me, feeling someone is experiencing them on the most basic level. That expression brushes aside superficiality and asks "are you fucking getting what I am saying? Are my words connecting with you?"

Here's the problem - I can never use that expression. Never. I want to, but I can't. Could never pull it off.

I would be ostracized from society as a pretentious and phony bastard. I would be banished to the stocks in the public square, where people would throw tomatos and coconuts at my head.

Years back I experimented with "Happy Christmas". Love that expression. The Brits use it. I hate "Merry Christmas." Merry is such a wimpy word. Nice and merry are two words I abhor because they are so wimpy. When else do you use the word merry? Never.

You could make the point that "Merry Christmas" works precisely because you never use the word merry. I disagree. The word should be banished from the English language.

"Happy Christmas" says it all. Christmas should be happy; you should be happy on Christmas. Happy packs a punch. "The pursuit of happiness", for Christ sake. That's all you need to know.

My experiment failed miserably. I was shunned by polite society and assaulted by impolite society.

If I could not get away with something as innocent as "Happy Christmas", I stand no chance in hell of gettting away with "You feel me?"

I am trapped in a bland existence by a lack of imagination on the part of others.

But I will break free and make my mark on the world explosively and uniquely. I cannot be stopped.

You feel me?

Radio Reception

As soon as I enter the parking garage, radio reception dies.

I am using music as fuel right now, so that makes for a painful transition. Especially if I am listening to a song I love. Spiritual flight to crushing despair in half a second.

So I face the insane asylum/daycare, or the Padre's church, or the downtown Concord neighborhood scene and contemplate my fate and my history. All the mistakes, wrong turns and bad decisions that made this soul-less garage an inevitable destination at the age of 67 in 2021.

Or...................I just stare straight ahead, thoughtless, like Puddy on the airplane.

However I found, accidentally, a couple of spots in the garage where I can park and still get radio reception. Imagine my delight.

These were situations when the garage was pretty full and I had to park in spots I don't normally use. And lo and behold the radio just kept on soothing my soul. A sly smile stretched my lips in grotesque parody of happiness.

I park in these spots regularly now. But it is dangerous. Especially on Thursdays and Fridays, the darkest, most hopeless days in my crushing three day work week.

Between 7:00 and 7:15, if I am not listening to music, I descend into a dark cloud of despair that kills all feeling. This is an excellent defensive posture to adopt in order to survive the day at work.

But if I am listening to music my spirits continue to soar. I feel alive. Like a human being.

Until 7:15. That fateful moment when I have to leave my car, pay for the parking spot and summon up my practiced, phoney facade.

Reality descends like a guillotine. I stagger shocked and bewildered through the garage, out into the streeet and into the office.

There is a price to be paid for every good thing.

A Gift of Life

I am sitting in the parking garage at 7:00 am on Thursday morning.

Working my way through the last 15 minutes of dignity I will have that day before I crawl out of my car and begin the death march to my desk.

I see a kid skateboard into the lower level of the garage and do that "step on the back end so he can grab the front end of the skateboard in his hand" thing. You know, the dismount. He disappears into the stairwell. I didn't think anything about it.

The garage has four levels. I was parked on level 2.

Minutes later I notice motion on level three, which I can see in front and above me from where I am parked.

I realize it is the kid skateboarding down through the garage as serene as could be. Arms down by his sides, standing straight up on the board, in complete control of the ride. Master of his domain.

The garage is very quiet at that time of day.

He took the corner, skated right behind my car and continued down to the lower level.

I was ecstatic. 

The kid found a perfect spot where he could do what he loves to do. In peace and solitude. He found a way to be perfectly him.

I was thinking to myself: "hold on to that attitude kid. Don't ever let the bastards get you down. They will try to break you, conform you, control you and stamp out your individuality. Don't let them get away with it. Feed your spirit until it grows so strong the world can't touch it."

I was smiling. I never smile at 7:00 am in that parking garage.

The kid gave me a moment.

You never know where they will come from, but if an unexpected smile creases your lips you better appreciate it for what it is.

A gift.

A gift of life.

Why I Read - Explanation #6065

 "Books are the carriers of civilization. Without books history is silent, literature dumb, science crippled, thought and speculation at a standstill. Without books, the development of civilization would have been impossible. They are engines of change (as the poet said), windows on the world and lighthouses erected in the sea of time. They are companions, teachers, magicians, bankers of the treasures of the mind. Books are humanity in print."

Barbara Tuchman

Be Careful

 "We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and -  in spite of True Romance magazines -  we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely - at least, not all the time - but essentially, and finally alone. This is what makes your self-respect so important, and I don't see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness."

Hunter S. Thompson

Simple Joys

In my tiny daily world I have two simple joys.

My tiny daily world consists of Carol and Maka. Odds are that I will not give a shit about anyone else I deal with on most days.

My wife and a cat. How lucky am I?

Carol takes great pleasure in small things. She really makes the best of life. She is easily made happy.

I marvel at that. It is the perfect approach to life.

Example: Last Thursday I told her I would swing by the 99 on Friday night and pick up supper. She was immediately excited. Said as soon as she was done doing what she was doing she would pick something off the menu.

And she did. Probably 10 minutes after I brought it up she was looking at the menu and talking excitedly. 

It made me feel so happy. To make her happy.

That is one example out of a million. Such a little thing and she made it feel so big.

I pay attention to whatever little thing is making her happy and it makes me happy. I pay attention to these things when she doesn't notice me doing it and I smile to myself.

That is a precious gift that she gives to me. Every day.

I have a special relationship with Maka. It comes naturally to me because I am a love giver and animals respond to love.

She follows me around the house like a puppy dog. We have conversations. She responds to me, I respond to her.

She stares into my eyes when she is in my lap and it melts me.

Lately she has gotten into the habit of demanding a hug before I go to bed. Just started in the last few months.

I always go to bed before Carol. Get up, go into the kitchen, put cold water in Maka's bowl, give her a snack.

Come back into the living room and kiss Carol good night. Lately Maka circles around and through my legs until I pick her up. I hold her and hug her so close and she stays for minutes.

She knows it's time for bed, therefore it is time for a hug.

It is so precious. It makes me so happy and is good for my heart. Sometimes it brings tears to my eyes.

No small gift.

We settle down at night. Maka is in my lap, stretched out in luxurious comfort. Carol is on the couch, crocheting or playing a game on her tablet. TV is on. A warm, content and loving scene.

My tiny daily world is indeed small.

But I have Carol and Maka to feed my heart.

I could not be luckier.

Solace

 "When you cease to fear your solitude, a new creativity awakens in you. Your forgotten or neglected wealth begins to reveal itself. You come home to yourself and learn to rest within. Thoughts are our inner senses. Infused with silence and solitude, they bring out the mystery of inner landscape."

John O'Donahue

You come home to yourself and learn to rest within. That is the most beautiful description of peace of mind I have ever heard.

One Step At A Time

Gotta admit when I wrote Tuesday's post I had a little whiskey in me. And a pretty good fucking sandwich too.

Dr. Susan Buckley caught me off guard. Way off guard. Obviously I found out she is a Doc, not the urologist's assistant. I am a sexist pig for making that assumption. And as I said I would take her over the urologist or the radiologist any day. She was 100% informed, direct and honest with me. She did not sugarcoat anything.

And she answered every one of my questions. I had a lot. I had a list. She answered every single one. Respectfully.

I overreacted on Tuesday. It was a pretty big shift in perspective. But given the luxury of time to think about it, it ain't gonna be so bad.

Hormone therapy is a manageable thing. My body will react to it in unpredictable ways - every man responds differently - and I will react to that. Up to me, baby.

Radiation is not so bad either. Carol and I each spoke to someone who has dealt with it and they both said it pretty much leaves you tired with no real other side effects of note.

Just a walk in the park, Kazansky.

Not really, but it ain't the end of the world. Something tells me it might be more important to kill the cancer than to worry about the side effects. They tell me it's better to be alive than dead.

The medical community amuses me. I connect with the ones who are drug addicts in disguise.

Dr. B told me she cannot predict how my body will react to hormone therapy. That every man reacts differently, from what they experience to the severity of what they experience. Then she said:

"So it's important that you keep me posted about what's going on, especially if something is making you uncomfortable or affecting how you live your life. I have a pill for everything - there is nothing I cannot make better."

Now that is a doctor I can respect.

When I got to this serious stage and the urologist was reviewing my treatment options, at the end he said: "You can also chooose to do nothing. With medications and technology I can probably keep you alive for 15 years."

Again, you gotta love it. And I seriously considered it for a while.

I have to consider the downside. I'd be stupid not to. I could get to the end of this and be told "Holy shit, we did not beat this thing. You need chemo, or surgery, or a stick of dynamite inserted up your ass." It is possible this is the beginning of the end. No one really knows. Talk about motivation to change, baby.

I am not leaning on that at all. Right now I feel positive. I will deal with this and come out the other end smiling. I have watched family members and friends go through shit that is much more difficult than this and seen them succeed. Mostly.

So ignore my previous post. I was freaked out and whiskey influenced.

One would think between this pandemic and prostate cancer, I will have a completely different outlook on life.

Could happen. Should happen.

But I'm not making any promises.

One step at a time, baby.

Doughnut Economics

Out today doing the chores that make my life so exciting. And fulfilling.

Trip to the dump; Harvester Market for 1 pound of Land O' Lakes american cheese off the block; Dunkin Donuts.

Listening to the U2 Sirius XM station.

I always liked U2. Now I love them. I have been listening to nothing else for a week or two.

Got a buddy to whom U2 is what the Allman Brothers are to me. He has seen them in concert many times, including in Dublin. Fucking Dublin, man. We used to fantasize about me and him going to Dublin to catch them live.

Never happened. Bummer.

As I was driving around, a new show started at 1:00 featuring a guy named John Kelly. He played some funky music that I dug, then brought in a guest for a discussion. Kate Raworth who recently wrote a book titled Doughnut Economics. The Edge joined the conversation. Insiders just call him Edge. He just calls me Joe.

The title has nothing to do with food.

The book suggests that a new theory of economics is urgently needed because the one we have lived by for thousands of years is not dealing with the pressing issues of our time - climate change, extreme inequality and the super rich, financial crisis, and more.

Fascinating stuff, but my main point is I was listening to a rock 'n roll station and this conversation pops up.

U2 are eclectic. Informed. Activists. Humanists. They are always pushing to innovate musically, but they are also actively involved in trying to contribute to solving the world's biggest problems.

I will check the book out. Could be over my head; could be boring to me. Could prove to be interesting. I might learn something.

I would not even know the book existed if I wasn't listening to U2.

That is the way the world is supposed to work, baby. Constant exposure to new ideas to stimulate you and make you think and make your life interesting.

The Unexpected

Met with Dr. Feelgood today. Made me a little dizzy. But I got the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth.

The medical community needs to learn to communicate better. I have dealt with a urologist and a radiologist. Today I met with the urologist's assistant.  She turned out to be far and away the best of the bunch. I am not surprised that a woman made the men look so incompetent. She was actually stunned at the information the two men never gave me.

I thought I was getting my first hormone shot today. Nope. First I get a week's worth of hormone pills. Next week I go in for a shot.

They monitor testosterone levels and PSA for a while. Testosterone feeds prostate cancer. Hormone therapy drastically lowers testosterone production and essentially stops the cancer's growth in its tracks. 

When things are progressing well I move on to radiation.

I learned today that they consider my level of cancer a high risk cancer. This is the first time I heard those words. High risk but they are confident this treatment will beat it.

The other thing I learned today is that this process will take 2 years. TWO YEARS. Again, first time I was told this. I thought it would last 4 months. It is a hard thing to go from an expectation of 4 months to an expectation of 2 years.

The urologist and radiologist are both in for a beating.

Hormone therapy for a month or two, radiation for 9 weeks, then hormone therapy for up to two years. The hormone therapy works like chemo to make sure the cancer doesn't come back.

Today knocked me for a loop. High Risk. Two Years.

I came home, made myself a sandwich, poured some whiskey, and watched Batman Returns. Michael Keaton, Christopher Walken, Michelle Pfeiffer, Danny DeVito. Deliciously dark movie. Fucking insane. I lost myself in that movie which was exactly what I wanted to do.

I love Christopher Walken. Haven't given him enough love lately. LOVE Christopher Walken.

Unfortunately Carol walked in with 10 minutes left in the movie simultaneously as the phone was ringing about our mortgage refinance. I blew up. I could NOT handle the intrusion of reality into the cocoon of safety I built for myself. I don't apologize for that. I was robbed of the chance to swallow my medicine in peace.

I drove in to the hospital alone this morning. Not an ideal thing in this situation but there was really no reason for Carol to be there.

I listened to U2. Heard Walk On. Lost my mind. Some lyrics:

"And if the darkness is to keep us apart, and if the daylight feels like it's a long way off, and if your glass heart should crack, and for a second you turn back, oh no, be strong.

Walk on, walk on, what you got they can't steal it, no, they can't even feel it, walk on, walk on, stay safe tonight."

Bono read one of his fan letters. Turns out he calls them Fan Letters, not Love Letters. Sorry to mislead you. Fan letters because, as he says, "I am a performer and I am still a fan."

He pays homage to people who inspired him years ago as well as people who inspire him today. Today's Fan Letter was to Billie Eilish. I like what I have heard from her. She whisper-sings. Unfortunately, because of that style I only get 20% of her lyrics. Still..............

Anyway Bono's tribute was typically creative and heartfelt.

On my way home they played a live cut from A New Year's Eve show in Dublin. 12/31/1989. You hear U2 counting down the last 15 seconds and then it is 1990. Church bells are ringing. U2 sing Auld Lang Syne, then segue into Where The Streets Have No Name. So beautiful. Somehow I believe New Year's Eve in Dublin is a lot more spiritual than New Year's Eve in NYC.

This ripped all the emotion right out of my soul. Probably because it sounded like such a celebration. It was such a contrast to the New Year we just rang in. A New Year that promises more Covid and delivered prostate cancer.

John O'Donahue's book was delivered today. How's that for timing? It is not what I expected. It is more. It is a collection of poetry, essays, spirituality and philosophy. I will hug this book to my body like a shield of armor.

And let his words seep into my heart.

I am down today. Today did not go at all as I expected. Today kicked me in the balls and damaged my spirit. I have to stagger through tonight and get to tomorrow.

Unfortunately I have to work tomorrow. With superficial, judgemental, back stabbing individuals. This is NOT going to go well.

I am on a roller coaster. Much more so than I expected. Sarge fought like a tiger, Carol is still fighting like a tiger after over 3 years.

I am going to give it everything I got.

But I am pretty shaky today.

Weapons Against The Unknown

Point 1:

On my birthday - January 1, 2021 - Craig lent me "Greenlights". A book written by Matthew McConaughey.

In this book MM (I am not going to spell his name every time) examines his life. I finished the book this morning and it turned out to be the perfect book for a difficult time in my life.

Before you laugh you have two choices - take my word as gospel or buy the book. Period.

The man is a thinker. He constantly evaluates his life and if he is not happy or fulfilled he steps back. He has done it over and over again and course corrected every time. He has built up a storehouse of approaches/thoughts/inspirational quotes/advice and wisdom. The book is based on a diary he kept for 35 years. He took some time to go back and reread it and analyze it relative to different periods and ages in his life. 

The biggest thing I took away from the book is that he attacks life. He is an active participant in it. When he makes a decision to change things he throws himself into it body and soul. He takes hits and makes mistakes but he learns from them. And then he moves left or right or up or down.

Time and time again when I read about something he did or read one of his philosophies or read some of the thoughts he has recorded I would put the book down and exhale in amazement. At the way his mind works and at the potential for me to apply his approach to my current situation.

Point 2:

I have been listening to a lot of U2 lately. Theirs is the perfect music for a difficult time in my life.

I feel a lot of their music is like gospel music translated into rock 'n roll. Inspirational, emotional, uplifting, truthful and personal. I lose myself in the words. And the music is magic.

The music is hitting me much differently than it has in the past. And there is an obvious reason for that.

These are thoughtful, introspective guys. Especially Bono. The man can be annoying but I love his commitment to passionate expression. He is the epitomy of a creative spirit.

On their station on Sirius XM they pay homage to the people who inspired them. Bono reads "Love Letters" to those people. Sometimes I roll my eyes at his over the top verbiage, but invariably he words something in a way that knocks me down. I am a lover of words. So is he.

And U2 gave me John O'Donahue. Irish poet. Whose words I am consuming voraciously. I just bought a book of his poetry which will arrive this week. Cannot wait to get my hands on it.

THE POINT:

The next 4 months will probably be the toughest of my life. The most stressful. The most consequential.

I don't know what to expect. I won't know until I am actually experiencing it. I have been reading up on all this, but besides educating me it scares the hell out of me. Side effects, man. "This shit could happen to you........."

Some of it will, some of it won't. But the possibilities are overwhelming.

I start hormone therapy on Tuesday. There are definite side effects from that. I will have to wait and see and then deal with it. That's a 2 month sentence.

Then radiation. For 9 weeks. Dr. Feelgood downplayed the side effects - I don't believe him. But I hope he's right.

Started exercising for real this weekend. Went food shopping and we went heavily low carb. My plan is to throw myself into this like McConaughey would. I am going to hit the ground running on Tuesday and hope for the best. And when I am driving home from hormone therapy and radiation treatments I will be blasting U2 on my radio.

Don't know where this is going to lead. Could be the beginning of some nasty stuff. Maybe they can't cure the cancer. Maybe I am in for a long stretch of misery.

Could be I come out of this with a smile. Step into a vaccinated world in health and happiness. That would be fucking amazing. Talk about party time! Here's hoping.

Right now I am nervous. Nervous because the only thing in my head is theories and hypotheses and maybes. Tuesday it will begin to be real.

I intend to summon all the strength that I have. Physically and mentally. But that might not be enough.

But I have Matthew McConaughey's words and U2's music in my back pocket. For support. For inspiration.

I know that sounds ridiculous. But it is real to me. Very real.

There is something going on here spiritually and I am going to grab onto it with ferocious intent.

Invisible

  "I finally found my real name

   I won't be me when you see me again

   No, I won't be my father's son

   I'm more than you know

   I'm more than you see here

   More than you let me be

   I'm more than you know

   A body in a soul

   You don't see me but you will

   I am not invisible"

  

  "Invisible, by U2

Exercising Restraint

Maka gets all the love one cat can handle.

I kiss her head, I pick her up and hug her, I pat her, I talk to her. She is an affectionate cat who gives love and soaks up the love she receives.

She is in my lap every morning (except Thursdays and Fridays - I HATE those mornings). She is in my lap every night. In fact she is pretty much in my lap any time I am in my recliner.

I stroke her when she is in my lap. Lightly touch her head. Many times she will twist her head around and lick my fingers. I love that. Sometimes she just lifts her head and licks my fingers even if I don't stroke her. I LOVE that.

Sometimes I exercise restraint. I just look at her, recognizing we don't always need physical contact to express our love. It takes self control for me to pull that off.

She is content sitting in my lap feeling safe and loved and warm, I am content to have her sitting in my lap enjoying the purity of our relationship. The love is palpable.

Those moments are magic.

Welcome to 2021

Here we go, kids - I will be taking a ride on the Cancer Treatment Express.

Met with the radiologist yesterday. All systems go with this prostate cancer thing.

Starts with hormone therapy. Next week. He explained that hormone therapy works like chemotherapy - it attacks the cancer and shrinks it so the radiation can be more effective.

Side effects? Hot flashes, for one. Carol got a kick out of that when I told her. Excessive weight gain is another. He told me if I just eat like I normally do I will blow up like a balloon. He suggested a low carb diet and said I need to be very serious about it. He also pointed out that alcohol is high in carbs. Thanks, doc.

So just like that I go from the high of the bone scan guy telling me to go ahead and have a couple of drinks before the procedure, to the low of the radiologist telling me alcohol is evil.

This is going to require big changes from me. This is a moment. A lot will be required of me and if I don't follow through there will be serious consequences.

Strangely enough I am kind of up for it. Maybe this is the kick in the ass I need to change my life physically. I have been eating and drinking too much and have been too down to do anything about it. 

The kids in the neighborhood already call me Fatty Fatty Fuck Fuck. It's embarassing. Next step is Jabba the Hutt. I can't let that happen. I probably won't lose any weight but I am going to try damn hard not to gain any.

Hormone therapy lasts 2 to 2 and1/2 months. Then radiation starts.

45 visits. 5 days a week for 9 weeks. That will put a crimp in my routine.

Side effects? Fatigue. A tendency to have to go to the bathroom more often. Doesn't sound like the end of the world.

On a positive note I am moving up in the world of serious diseases. In competition with Carol. 

Carol has been getting all the headlines. Breast cancer. Brain tumor. Me? Stage I melanoma. Come on, man - baby stuff.

Now I can square my shoulders, thrust my jaw out in pride and say "Yup, got me a case of that there prostate cancer. I surely hope I don't die from it." That will get peoples' attention. Might even get Carol's attention.

I don't know though - she is the MVP of disease in this family. It will be an honor for me just to be mentioned in the same breath.

So there you have it. Life turns on a dime. I mean this has been coming on for 2 or 3 years so it is not a surprise, but now it is NOW.

I watched Sarge fight like a son of a bitch against lung cancer. I watched Carol fight like a son of a bitch against breast cancer and a brain tumor. Two family members who set a high bar for Positive Attitude and Fight.

They showed me how it's done. I always wondered if I would have that kind of strength. I am about to find out.

I think I am up for it.

In A Little While

That is the name of a U2 song I absolutely love.

I was sitting in the drive through line at Dunkin Donuts yesterday when it came up on my radio. The line was long and slow moving so I kept getting the opportunity to put my head back, close my eyes and listen.

When a song makes you do that you know you have something.

It was a special moment.

And continuing the U2 connection............I was driving home on New Year's Eve listening to the U2 station on Sirius when the "DJ" segued into a poetry segment. Featured an Irish poet name of John O'Donahue. Another Irish poet, I didn't catch his name, was paying tribute to him. And what a beautiful tribute.

I found a new poet. Holy shit, you don't know how much that means to me and how perfect is the timing.

I love poetry and vowed to pursue it vigorously in 2021. And here I had a fantastic poet dropped right into my lap. On New Year's Fucking Eve. Don't you find that meaningful?

First of all this is what I love about Sirius and especially about U2. That you can veer off into uncharted waters and examine other forms of creativity. It's all about creative expression, not just rock 'n roll.

I had FM radio when I was a kid and this was long before fucking playlists. DJ's could do anything they wanted to do. And they did.

If a rock song suggested jazz, suddenly you were listening to a full side of Miles Davis. They read poetry. Played avant-garde stuff you had to work to appreciate. It was spectacular. Classical music. Man, they exercised your musical chops.

I am picky about my poetry. I don't like the obscurely worded stuff that feels pretentious to me, like the poet is trying to show off his knowledge and talent. Don't like most of the old-tymey stuff.

Just before the New Year I discovered a poet name of Edna St. Vincent Millay. She lived from 1892-1950.

Love her poems. They connect with my soul.

John O'Donahue died on January 4, 2008. He was born on January 1, 1956. Two years after me. How appropriate I should write about him today. I believe there is some sort of spiritual connection there. I believe in that stuff, baby. He was only 52 when he died.

I sat in my car mesmerized by the words his friend was reading. With so much reverance, so much emotion. New Year's Eve - when I am so vulnerable and so open. My soul and all my emotion is out there raw and hungry for satisfaction and John O'Donahue just walks right in.

These are the things that sustain me. That make me actually feel alive. I am so far away from who I am and so far away from the people I should be spending time with that a moment like that gives me hope.

It jolts me. It happened for a reason. It gave me a spark of life when I SO needed it.

I am sure I will be quoting John O'Donahue's writing to you. He is part of my life now.

I love John O'Donahue's writing and I did not even know he ever existed before that night.

What a gift.

In A Nutshell

I hate my life.

It is my fault my life is what it is.

It has to change for me to get happy.

I am the only one who can make that happen.

Fucking Cops

I just went out to Dunkin Donuts to treat Carol and me to a quality breakfast.

On the way home the cops - who were on the other side of the road - pulled out, turned around, and followed me for miles down the road. Closely.

When I took my exit they took my exit. Followed me right to my driveway. Closely.

When I turned in they drove by.

I fucking HATE it when cops do that. They are trying to intimidate you into making a mistake - driving too fast, swerving - whatever - so they have an excuse to pull you over. They are praying to randomly catch a drunk driver.

Funny thing is I have had that happen when I WAS drunk and I beat them every time. And I always will beat them every time. Because I have nerves of steel.

But today was a Sunday morning, I was out for a treat, and I was forced to drive like a 109 year old woman. No mistakes. Full attention. Eyes riveted to the rear view mirror.

When that happens I want to point my 12 gauge shotgun backwards over my shoulder and blow the motherfuckers right off the road.

That would be a satisfying start to my day.

Oh For Christ Sake

I almost made it.

I tried to make my January 1 post raw and honest. Got pretty close.

The whole point was to put my failures down in writing. Right in front of my face. Seeing them in writing, tapping away at the keyboard, makes them so real. And so pathetic. Hopefully makes me think. And act.

I was cruising along until I got to the end. Then I went for cute. I always have to go for the wrap up. Many times it's good; others times it is sappy.

"I'll have a good thought" was sappy. Going for entertainment rather than truth. Are you kidding me? That was weak.

So I reiterate the painful truth:

I am weak. I don't try hard enough.

I have to learn to love myself. This is critical. 

I have come to believe that is the key to all happiness and success. Because not loving yourself is a disease; it poisons everything - the way you perceive the world, the way you perceive others, the way you look at things you do and don't do, the way you interpret things that happen to you.

Self-loathing is an opaque filter that is a barrier to getting to the truth.

And from Duane Allman - I will be the best man I possibly can. Simple. Straightforward. My ultimate goal. Because if I get there I will be happy. And proud.

That's it. Forget about "I'll have a good thought." I mean I love the phrase and I think it is powerful.

But I have a lot heavier stuff to deal with than just that.

Duane's Wisdom

 "This year I will be more thoughtful of my fellow man, exert more effort in each of my endeavors, professionally as well as personally. Take love wherever I find it, and offer it to everyone who will take it. In this coming year I will seek knowledge from those wiser than me and try to teach those who wish to learn from me. I love being alive and I will be the best man I possibly can."

Duane Allman's diary, January 1, 1969.

I start every year with this quote; I never comment on it, I just let it be. This year is different. I put it in italics for emphasis. And I have to say the last comment is the killer.

I will be the best man I possibly can.

This sums up very simply what I want. I have never tried hard enough to achieve this goal. Never even come close. I can be a much better man than I have been. I want to be the best man I possibly can.

That says it all.

Mea Culpa. 2021.

It is January 1, 2021.

A sacred day for me.

I did my homework, as promised. Read through 8 years of year-end posts. Nothing surprising and I did not expect to be surprised. I know myself. I know my pain. I know my shortcomings. I know how I whine.

But it was heavy to read through this pain year after year after year. The same complaints, the same bleak outlook.

There were themes. Always trying to lose weight, a strong and consistent sense of negativity about life and about my life, a sense that I tried and failed over and over again, failing to reach my potential, hating the jobs I worked, the desire to make my life meaningful, to do something with it, self delusion about who I could have been.

Solid, interesting quotes:

2012 - Years come and go. Some are good, some are bad. I can accept that but I cannot accept that I contributed to my own failure.

2013 - I need the truth. My own truth. Not anybody else's. I no longer feel I have a tomorrow in my life. I am three days away from 60. I no longer have a tomorrow. I have only a today.

2015 - Your life is the only thing you have. The only thing, and it blows by at faster miles an hour. My track record for change and resurrection sucks.

2017 - However, I always felt that New Year's Eve madness is a strange mix of hope and hopelessness.

2019 - Jesus fucking Christ. Time moves fast. For a while life dribbles out of you. Then it gushes like blood from a severed artery.

The heaviest years were 2014 and 2017. In 2014 Sarge and Jonathan died. In 2017 Carol had a mastectomy and a tumor removed from her brain. I said all the predictable things.

In 2014 I said "You have to fight to make your life meaningful. The more loss you experience the more driven you become to make a statement, to actually do something with your life."

In 2017 I said "But in another way, I know Carol will continue to fight like the warrior that she is. I also know that I am committed to doing everything in my power to make our life better. This is on my shoulders."

Still, I did nothing.

The point is I have whined about the same shit for 9 years now. And even when I came up against unspeakable tragedy and pain, I did not change. At moments when life teaches you a serious lesson, I did not learn.

I am weak. I don't try hard enough. 

I have to learn to love myself. If you don't love yourself everything else is tainted. Nothing works. I am as tainted as they come.

I have had enough. I don't like my life or myself and it is my fault that this is the way it is.

I want 2021 to be the year I find happiness, self-love and peace of mind. I want it more than ever. It is entirely up to me.

On "Hill Street Blues" a common expression among the characters was "I'll have a good thought." When someone was sick or going through a difficult time Sipowicz would say "I'll have a good thought." Not thoughts and prayers, not my heart goes out, not I am so sorry.

I always thought that expression was so powerful. Simple and meaningful. "I'll have a good thought." The power of the mind, the power of truly caring.

In 2021 I am going to work to have a good thought.

About me.