I type in Montserrat.
I look like an idiot.
I’ve been doing Han.
The old-school ways of natural cancer healing.
Tartan robe and squish the water onto kitchen towlette.
Somehow wrap it like an army brigadeier in some other land.
Hidden in all my cultures and I’ve adopted every way of sneak.
Operation Get-Natural for the Sams has proven remediate and fruitful.
Just like spreading the pain in tai chi or yoga to a tolerable, overall method.
Ratio or syncopated.
My dementia blurbs are almost nostalgic when I fall asleep into narcolepsy.
The oddest adjustment into the paralysis of mental thought and query and that 1hr and 45mins was somewhere else than my usual somewhere else.
I didn’t fall into Neptune’s Bed nor go to my Office in the basements of bunkers somewhere in heptic haptic feedback hell.
I’m blind.
Officially where I don’t see most people unless they remind me to make their presence known.
Most here are too usual to acknowledge the fact they don’t need to.
Marked enemy on sight, or used-toyou- bynow-regularah.
Whatever way sounds the least mean.
Brain Cancer forms in the nueral pathways and the first objbjenjegenesis
Occurs when oxytocin is deprived from one’s existence, single-episode.
I’m almost 68.
In espeionage, it’s known as “the-Cur-e.-Death.”
I’ve been around this whole time and know I’ve been 3 months, 45 days, 2 weeks,and 5 seconds. To understand – I’ve been around my family the whole time. I’m a World-d.LEader. And a Diplomat.
I run a lot of things around here.
Collusion and recocverboareation in the legal sense and familyial/tocommunal sense: is sorted and feels more like hoarding pink-slip reminders.
I’ve distanced myself in the ways I’ve known to fail.
My first two dreams in life were to become a Nun.
Check-check.
Then a Marine.
Got those 2 out the way.
And as a Nun, I knew I’d eventually have to walk away.
I’d disappear with my head held down in faith.
Not for having kids no, or giving birth to 14 children in 4 years.
Multi-sets, the Irish Bastards call them.
Wonderful.
They got starshine for Mitochondrial DNA, not rna.
That’s how healthy I aim to be, with it seems
Mental Illness being the real physical force of what propels my body into physical disability.
Even with my sensories altering.
Blind-in-nout. It’s odd the years I could see after a IED in Palestine in 1983 and blunt force trauma where my skull was leaking for a good 6 years… surgeries hadn’t advanced yet.
Hippie tapering and odd-senses of what felt cosmetic, what made me happy, the moments I could look in the mirror, and what was too sightly for sore eyes and whimpering pities, and what made me not feel pity myself.
Shaved my brows today.
Day 3 of Old-School:Kick-Ass Cancer Methods.
I’ve gone with my first papers published in 1956 as Rosalind Franklin alongside J. Albert Camus and Carl W.reid Sagan.
I think in our ongoing relationships and study field.
Finally all those books out now, jeynow.
It feels good to talk about our odd studies.
Even the TV era, and back to books.
Thank bloody fucking marie.
Scots are swhishing in tartan and the rags are everything.
Then HAN FIT: STAGE !;
Shall be laced in da minerals, at least 3 months I’m thinking.
When I went into Remission in March,
I started procuring “Cancer Go-TO OTG GOODIES.”
Cute lil bagstrap. Enough for a front pocket mask, hang my keys so I don’t forget. Orange, easy to sight on my doorhinge and then the burnt sienna will say 7! Alert! Get the keys off the other bag!
I kept the thinking the bnw checkerboard keylatch on my desk was a roach skitthering by my ankles.
Even now my hard is hurting.
Eagle Eays, always sore eyes.
And the migraines somehow have oxygen now??
Oxytocin instead of oxygen, you’ve get to be kidding me.
Because of the brain tumor?
Yes! Because of the brain tumor pfft.
First to go: [as a neurologist y metabolic nuerogenesis surgeon]
Oxytocin – impact of metabolism of malignant brain cancer.
Dopamine – lack of happiness; a struggle to meet qualitative, nutritious needs.
Hetrahfant [methalyline.]: Haven’t felt connection in awhile? Intimacy is hard, I haven’t looked anyone in the eye for 6 years+. (This is usually where one realizes they’ve gone blind. And have been deaf for anywhere of birth-24years on avg of diagnosis. {congenital blindness.})
Then fainally;
Serotonin.
+There isn’t much balance in life after this.
——————————
It’s good for old-dogs to talk about it.
Especially since we tend to be the crowd for jump street.
No preserved brain, worky-wookie hardy-hardest
And that’s the only way I can keep going.
In agency,
64- learn to lay the fuck down.
65- take naps again.
66 – die another tomorrow, kid. You’re terminal.
67 – kill the ego. Tell the truth to your family. Not in person, in your work. If they don’t read, fuck it.
68- some penniless venture I’m omwy to.
I look to my brethren o’ old-school nerds and wonder how it all got so dismal.
Then we talk in funny accents of islands and realize we are all the black people here in the room and that’s the white elephant on my glimpse of checkerboard.
Helen Keller done did it again.
Shakira moved with her hips.
And Velma is an asian nerdy girl working house-of-orange.
Oh shit.
It’s like we still are happy to have a sense of humor at the end of all of this.
“How tf are you alive bro?
How did you do this?
No water?
You’re doing the alcoholic way?
I’m going weed for chemo and vape for radiation.
It’s like the Marines get DEA-MEd Cards and just “~parrtyyy aloll the time broooahohorohro”
Aahehyaeyayayayh nah.
We just remember life when this type of tech was seen as secret-priveledge.
We made it all.
Now the kids are copying my youth of the 70s and I was slice jack-knives for them to know the tea wasn’t in britain about fleets and wood.
It was mac n cheese in Jacksonville.
Oh shit,
It’s like everyone is unhappy at least a little bit and after the floodgates of non-partisinal, bi-partisan, party-wars and repsesersetive (GAG ME RIGHT HERE ARE YOU KIDDING ME> POLITICIANS IN THE ROOM HEARING THIS SHIT>) and just uh, lot o’ disrespect.
Marines are Legislators.
Cops are Judicial.
Sheriffs are Transpo.
16-wheelers are DEFENSE.
Chow Hall is Private – non-military related. [open-air ranks only. As in not where the marines work. diplomacy-bases and acts.]
Otherwise – if I see you in camis: reluctant to tell you the thrift store has many cheap old cronies that don’t do much or work for much but just to keep life and existence and the tumbefall of wandering as a failure around.
Not too many friends on the streets tumbling with bottles anymore, that’s good.
Half a pelted modelo after 9 hours of outside PT.
Well shit,
The shit I miss from my youth as Class o’ 56 coming out of NC-TO-NORMANDy; just kinda works.
This taekwondo shit.
I’m a lot o asian and soy-mixto and shit.
But like your archetypes; true or not in severities.
I am North-Korean.
Pyongyang.
It was just Korea before 1957.
Civil Wars Happen.
Like a Maison-Dixie Line.
But the korea one was like… East and West Germany.
Diplomatic Two-Shared Borderline Bases -> to get your government back up and running.
Like a team.
Not really bi-partison; but exactly bi-partisan.
Interesting, the letter change.
Debate club wins,
At least they could talk between chess-breaks.
+++
Stubble.
I look like an idiot.
My hair is parted black.
Eyebrows will grow back.
Blacks dots on the crown.
Red frowns told me so.
Night-the-hood.
Impulsed soul.
Might as well cut-the-cord.
The Hair is Homegrown.
Spectacular.
Jet Blackest Black.
No Baby.
An Old Woman by these Ages.
And still younger-than-you..
Cherub Rock Stance
Fah life.
petrichor - archive 