Hope.

I've always wrestled with the idea of hope. Sometimes I equate it to a squirrel who is really hungry and is looking at a likely patch of leaves. Maybe there's a nut there.

Or a pigeon dignifiedly picking through a bunch of gravel. Maybe THIS one will be a seed.

But a human being . . . hope is such a different thing. The squirrel or pigeon don't know that they will die without food. They will just die, never knowing or being aware of why they died. In a way, that is excellent. It's not good to know you're going to die. And I'm not talking about in the course of a normal lifetime. Sure, we're all going to die, it's just a matter of the where and when. We like it like that.

So when someone, say, a doctor, tells you you have maybe three, maybe six and behind his back he somehow throws up his hands, mentally, for sure, but you see it, then you're suddenly on your own. See, if you're going to be executed, you KNOW THE DATE. YOU CAN PREPARE FOR IT.

But when there's no date, just someone who is supposedly in a position of trust telling you, well. you're umm, going to die. I don't know exactly when but I could say max six months.

You see in his or her face that he or her is not fucking around. It's not in his or her interest to fuck around with your life. If there were something he could do, he'd do it. But basically he's telling you it's all over. You're riddled with cancer that has spread to your lungs and kidneys and liver and the chemo hasn't worked and surgery would just make your short life miserable. Pain management is all we could do now. Just go home now.

But all of a sudden there's HOPE. YES, HOPE. There's RUN FROM THE CURE.

Yes, that's what's going to cure you. See? It's absolutely free! It has nothing to do with meddlesome doctors and impersonal drug companies . . . THIS IS GOING TO WORK! YES! YOU'RE NOT GOING TO DIE!

Just like Abu Assam Latif from Nigeria is going to give you 25% of his 120,000,00 inheritance or you're going to ABSOLUTELY WIN THE $50M jackpot this weekend if only you buy ten instead of your two tickets.

Frankly, I'd rather be a cat with terminal cancer than Anna, who is such a doll that you would go nuts over if you knew her. Or her husband.

I hope.

I hope.

But I know.

No kidding

Upp, no kidding, I was good, This was performed live for a Japanese television show in 1991.

We kicked ass.

Name and Address Withheld

Possibly the most concise song I've ever written.

At age 25. Go figure.

Fun

I won't mind telling you that I'm "in therapy." I guess the key to therapy is making sure everyone knows it. Yep, see, that cements the therapeutic effect.

But the mechanics of therapy are seemingly patched together by hominids who sometimes browsed in trees eight million years ago.

Still around. Still around! Yup, you thought the skeleton of Ardipithecus Ramidus was long gone but they sit in doctors' offices every day.

I'm not going to mince words. I'm in "therapy" for alcohol. But the mechanism is all broken.

These are "nice therapy" sessions. Humor is discouraged. Don't mistake me, but I could be teaching the class, and I don't say that lightly.

Goal is abstinence.

Yell you what, instead of babbling about it I'll fill you in as it breaks up my relationship with Brigitte.

Sound like a plan? A new telenovela at the point of a mouse. How sweet life is for my dear flock.

Ahh! A New "Final Solution."

Apparently the Jews are no longer in style. Apparently the Gypsies are.

Is there no end to this madness? Why the fuck doesn't some maniac armed with three AK-47s and four M-14s march into a Taliban stronghold and take out fifty Taliban? HUH? WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THAT?

We Did It

Tai-chan and I made this plane from scratch. Painted it, put on the decals. Glued it all together, painted wheels, did everything. Pretty cool, huh? Especially for a nine-year old. Took three days.

He even took the pictures.

He put the decals on all by himself, better than I could ever have done.

I'm SO going to miss him.

He was scared in the model shop because there were so many models.

Why?

I just don't seem to get it. Anna is going to die. She's just not going to be here any more.

Why? She's a bit older than me. If you knew her you'd love her.

Why does she have to die? Why does her husband have to watch her die and then live?

Why? Why? Just fucking take me. I've got time to kill; she won't have any time to kill.

WHY WHY WHY. WHY????? WHY MUST SHE DIE?

Answer me that, FUCKING GOD.WHY??????

Why am I going to be alive in six months and ANNA ISN'T??? ANSWER ME THAT, YOU FUCKER.

3:08 PM