Various Levels of Irritation

How I loathe some people.

Spring

I am very tense right now. But I am trying to relax. Sitting in a cafe. Writing my book. I think I will go get a beer. I don't actually want one. I don't. But I need the atmosphere of people sitting under subdued lights and feeling sociable.

Is this blog a form of communication? An open ended call to the world at large? I guess so. I wish I had the inclination to write delightful light-hearted witty sarcastic stuff like The Hot Librarian. That's what people want to read, not the gloom and doom and deadly serious dark shit that I'm dealing with on a daily basis.

I will write up something delightful on a daily basis from now on. Something frigging funny. Like the fact that my computer requires a firm hand if I want the letter G.

Here is a picture of something. Of course the blogger will put it on top so... yes, I know.

Dilemma

I am trying to work out a dilemma. I hesitate to call it a moral dilemma, although I suspect most people would classify it as one. My stepfather is dying of colon cancer but nobody will tell him. The oncologist told my mother that he only had a few months left. He is in great pain and is taking powerful pain medication. He is in his early seventies.
My mother does not want me to tell him anything. She thinks he would collapse into himself and just die.
I have spoken to some people about this. Almost everyone agrees with this … strategy.
I don’t. I appear to be alone in this regard.
Face doom, I say. Face it and make your way with head held high. Aware. Fighting to the last breath. Creating new things. He is not a creative man, though. He has gotten old and he has given up on life; even before his diagnosis he had given up on life.
I don’t personally see the point of not telling him. If he is such a short timer he might want to use the time to, say, drink Scotch.
I am going to see him tomorrow. He complains of pain in his belly and looks at me in mute supplication for help. He does not understand – does not want to understand – that it has come to this.
People come to see him on a daily basis. I know that he is pleased of the attention, but he must be suspicious of his newfound draw.

I want no recommendations. I do not want to pass the buck on this to any degree.

I bought him a bottle of Scotch for Christmas. He does not want to touch it until his stomach gets better. I suspect he will never open it. I wish I could make him drink it with me. But opening it now would require full disclosure.

Holy Batshit I'm Back

I decided to reactivate this thing because I looked up The Hot Librarian's blog and she is writing and that girl has so much talent it makes me sick. In any case a blog is a good tool to write momentary writer's blocks out of my system.

I attract 21 year olds and 36 year olds. There is an inexplicable gap...

So I went paintballing. At the very very end of the day I fell on my face in a concrete ruin on a former Soviet air force base. By the way, I was shot 9 times. All of them were headshots. But I am proud of having been the most treacherous of everyone - I had someone pretend to surrender with their hands up while I fired from over her shoulder. I realize this sounds awful, and it was.

Oh and my computer remembered the password to this blog but I don't, which is not good...