Well, goddamn…

July 31, 2009

…looks as though I’m going to live after all.

The Cancer’s gone–gone, motherfucker!


You know you need it bad…

July 17, 2009

…when you seriously contemplate swooping the candy striper at your doctor’s office.

Dammit, I usually have better control of my libido…but she trapped my arm between hers and her breast while taking my blood pressure, and the heat comming off her body was like a narcotic.  It was all I could do to avoid sporting a chubby right then and there.

To make matters worse, I could hear a voice in my head going, “Take her, take her now!”.

At this rate, I’m going to end up in prison.

Starting over, from the Middle of the Book

July 12, 2009

Let’s try this again.

I’m forty.  I work in a dead-end job, don’t have place of my own, and I haven’t gotten laid in about 10 years.  In technical terms, I’m a brute–I work, eat, sleep, and aside from the usual family get-togethers, I don’t have much social interaction with the outside world. Physically, I’m a mess–obese, near-sighted, achy from old injuries, sleep apnea, and a penchant for drinking heavily.  Psychologically, I’ve been diagnosed with dysthymic disorder, and I’ve had a dysfunctional family upbringing that colors my self-esteem like nobody would believe.

That is the general description of my world; and, up until I discovered that I had cancer, and almost died–twice–in the last 8 months, I was pretty much resolved to dying that way–miserable, lonely, and generally fucked up.

In short, I’m a mess.

The question is, can I clean that mess up?

You see, my visits from the Grim Reaper woke me up–made me look at my life; and I came to the realization that I don’t want to die like this.

So, I have to clean up this shit, and start living.  Maybe this is a “mid-life crisis”, but it’s not going to get solved by buying a fast car.  So, here’s is the plan:

1) I need a real job–a career.  Something where people won’t look at me and think, “Well, isn’t that low-brow.”  I need something where I feel, at the end of the day, that I have accomplished something.

2) I need a place of my own–no more room-mates, no more “family help”.  It has to be a place of my own, a place that I am responsible for.

3) I need to get back into shape.  It’s not going to be easy, but I’m dead if I don’t.  I know I’m dead in the long run, but the longer I let myself go like this, it’s going to be the short-run that does me in.

4) I need a woman.  I’ve been without for ten years, and I am sick of it.  I need to learn how to date all over again–and I need to learn how to find a woman that’s worth being with.

I figure, after all the chemo from my cancer treatments, I’ve got about 20 years of life left in me.  I don’t want to live those 20 years the same way I lived the previous 40.  No way.  No how.

Can I do it?  I don’t know.