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Week of 08 30 04

In mid-June I had a bizarre throat ailment and spent a few days in the hospital. My throat had swollen so much that I couldn't swallow for a day.

Medical miracles cured me of that but since then I've had three CTscans and a PETscan to make sure that nothing cancerous is happening (since I once had it.) Unfortunately the CTscans were fishy and then the PETscan tested positive for lymphoma.

That said, it could or couldn't be. I am not worried and neither should you be; when it comes to God and his nefarious schemes to put an end to me, I always win. 

I will have a biopsy in two weeks. The surgeon intends to cut through my throat and remove a small part of D. Good riddance. There's always been too much of me to hate.

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Week of 09 13 04

This Friday I'm having a biopsy. A surgeon will cut through my throat and remove some offensive tissue. He will leave a scar. I told him not to bother hiding it. I want to look like I've been slashed, like a supermodel from the 70s. Some jealous bitch aimed for my face but couldn't get high enough, and then I ate her.

That's my story.

I have 19 visible scars on my body, but I prefer even numbers.

I was stuck on the wrong side of Central Park the other day and resigned myself to walking through it.

Not even midway through the trek I found myself miserable, thinking, "Ugh! This the worst part of New York! It's full of everything I hate - plants, children and bare feet. They should raze it all and build a grid system."

In fact the only good thing about Central Park is that it WAS built. All of it was designed and built by man. Might nature, shorn of God, be heaven? I found solace in this conclusion as I ended my trail of tears on 68th and Central Park West.

A few weeks prior to that I found myself working with a supermodel. I usually avoid supermodels, and this is usually easy. But on that day, I had to work with one.

There it was, in front of me. A supermodel. She made constant bad jokes and made silly observations, and the gelatinous grips would laugh hysterically. Their laughter really drove home for me why so many (if not all) naturally (overly) beautiful people are stupid: They never get any negative reinforcement.

Of course there are those beautiful ones like Halle Berry who make a point of lamenting their beauty and how it holds them back in certain situations. Boo-hoo.. what a hurdle! Beauty certainly has held Halle Berry back. She hasn't accomplished anything. Keep whining, beautiful.

As Judge Judy says, "Beauty fades; stupid is forever." The smart beautiful ones like James Dean and Mariyn Monroe were smart enough to know: DIE YOUNG.

I don't understand the difference between "natural" and "man-made". If a beaver makes something, do we call it beaver-made? Is a beaver's dam not natural? Of course it is, because a beaver is a nature-made thing. Why then isn't a city a natural thing if made by nature-made man?

Why does man draw a line between himself and nature where no line exists? Man is a part of the universe; what man creates belongs to it. We exist above nothing.

I have made myself beautiful.

That's my story.

And now, the sweet sound of nature:

'Man-made' by Man Parrish

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Week of 09 20 04

My surgery on Friday went OK. I had some consciousness and blood pressure drama during recovery but those irritations were resolved by the end of the day. I was able to spend Friday night at home, and not in the hospital.

I have a large, blood-encrusted, Marla Hansen-esque scar on my neck but it should heal soon enough. Whatever remains will be another visible reminder of my triumph over God.

The House of DIabolique: 20
God: 0

Thanks to everyone who sent me well wishes.

I am not unhappy. I suggest that you play this song very loud; pretend that it's 1982 and that you're dancing with your best friends.. or me.

'Robot is Systematic' by 'Lectric Workers

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Week of 9 27 04

Test results in. I am once again cancer free.

Let this song stand as a celebration and reflection of my own mind's steel delerium:

'Bad Passion' by Steel Mind

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