Tuesday, September 16th, 2014. Day 14 Hamilton

Tuesday doesn't have a lot of associated wordplay or songs, except for a lovely bit by Mr. Lee Evans which culminates in shouts of, "It feels like a Tuesday? Feels like a Tuesday?! Well, what the fuck does Tuesday feel like?!" It's a family friendly show, honest.

As I've mentioned in the past, it is amazing what you can get used to as your normal. My life is to the point now that I accept new medical developments readily and without fuss, so that even casual nudity followed by waving my gootch in the air (only for a short while) has already lost its zing.

Strange life, it is that I lead.

The weekend passed in a calm fashion. I found a sane cabbie who was prompt, obeyed traffic laws conscientiously, and kept his cab clean enough that nary a hint of old butt could be detected; he shall be my go-to Hamilton taxicab pilot, henceforth. I discovered that if you turn left (West) down Main Street E instead of right (East), the city gets better instead of worse. There was a perfectly acceptable sushi restaurant within walking distance this entire time! This new knowledge was used in the only appropriate manner that could be thought of, which was to live almost entirely from their menu for two days. I love miso soup. It has such a strong umami that a good bowl of it is arguably as satisfying as drinking a steak. Arguably, in that I am arguing it.

Of course, the return of the business week returned me to the Lakeview Lodge, where the privacy and sanctity of my personal hidey-hole has been compromised (not a euphemism for anything, promise): I have a roommate. His name is George, he is in his seventies, and he is the only other person I have ever met who has mycosis fungoides. His manifests a bit differently, and I heard all about it, his family life, and generally how terrible things are, nowadays. George is a talker. Let that sink in. I am calling someone a talker. Process just how heavy the stream of words must be for me to label another human being a talker. Spoiler: incessant.

I'm not sure how many more of these I'm going to write, as the tiredness accrued from successive radiation treatments is weighing on me. I may write one up on the plane. Four more sleeps and then I fly home!

A physicist sees a young man about to jump off the Empire State Building.

He yells, "Don't do it! You have so much potential!"

note: physics joke.