The C Word

 Over the weekend we had the groundbreaking idea to get some people around to help us drink alcohol. I just thought that if I’m going to start on a course of possibly unpleasant treatment I need to have some fun first. It was a brilliant plan and we had a good time. The hangover the next day was not so great, particularly because hangovers make me go deep, so there I was, feeling bad about having cancer. Eventually I solved the problem by watching the new season of  I Think You Should Leave. As expected, it did not make me laugh, but I had a good time thinking, “What is this bullshit?”


I have decided that I am not going to attempt to deal with any of this shit by myself. Fuck being alone, I want to be constantly talking to people. On the phone, texting, online, face to face, in two cars that have pulled up cop style in a parking lot, I’m not picky, I am not even slightly interested in trying to staunch it out. I’m not going to have anything to do for a while, it’s not like I’m doing the medical stuff, they have people for that now, so I’m going to need to be kept busy in some way that doesn’t involve work, effort or trying. Sure, you’ll possibly be talking to someone who is on drugs and in a dream state, but imagine all the wacky opinions I’ll have. I don’t even need to sell this shit, it sells itself.


I’ve been having these thoughts about messaging people I haven’t seen for a while, to let them know I appreciate them. I like the idea. I’m not wondering if these thoughts are weird or unconventional, I am in fact overwhelmed by the size of how sensible I am being right now. I’m like a being of pure commonsense. I have attained heights of reasonableness hitherto impossible for one such as I. Or maybe I never had cancer before, so being extremely direct with people about how I love them just didn’t come up. I’ve also had smaller thoughts about letting some champs know that I think they’re a low dog, but now that I radiate pure love in every direction it seems like a bad use of energy.


When we were driving back through the city after getting the shocking news, I suddenly realised how incredibly lucky I am. Nurses, professors, doctors, anesthetists and surgeons are going to save my life. And it’s not going to make me homeless, I will get millions of dollars of treatment and then I will just sort of be alive and go do more alive things. Lots of people have far less impactful health problems and it ruins their lives. There are people in outback communities who don’t have clean drinking water. There are people in Australian cities moving into tin sheds and uninsulated garages. The suffering going on all around is truly an achievement. It is an achievement, people achieved it, people decided these things needed to happen, yet somehow, in a country that worships war criminals and murders Aboriginal children, I have slipped through all sorts of loopholes and am being treated like I matter. Like my life matters. I am extremely privileged and I have been handed a golden opportunity to not feel even slightly guilty about it.


I guess what I’m saying is fuck everyone else. I am going to live and you can’t stop me. And I am going to keep shoehorning my terribly earnest feelings about how society is bad into every moment, and I am going to continue to be an extremely self righteous cunt. DM me you dogs.


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