whirlpooled topics unbackspaced. streams of consciousness. blurts. scribbled notes. outlined ideas. velocity waves. snatches from icloud. because self-editing is a writer’s cowardly way of preventing a reader from fucking the writer's confidence. dates don't matter. memories and moments aren't chronologically marked on the soul.

In Kind

It’s 12:58 when i start this blurt.  sitting here. Leather chair. Christmas lights. Wish i had a brandy. But glad I don’t. I don’t need another vice. Got the results of the nuclear stress tests. (Got them by email 20 minutes later.  Medicine is amazing.) No clue what they mean. Could ask doc buddies. But I don’t need to know now. I’ll find out soon enough. Besides. This is only 1 piece of my puzzle. More tests soon. 

Each night I sit and examine my conscience. Every single night. I mentally travel my day and consider what I’ve done and what I’ve failed to do. 

Lately I’m treated with extraordinary kindness. Wherever I go. 5 different nurses/techs helped me with the tests. (4 hours long!) And each were extraordinarily gentle and generous with their kindness.  (The nurse judged me today, “you’re funny!”  Odd. I never think I’m funny anymore. I feel I’m goddamned depressing.) No matter where I go or who I meet: extraordinary kindness. I said last week I thought maybe people were getting kinder. But a dear friend of mine said they were just kind because of me. I hope that’s not true. 

No. I like being kindly treated. Believe me, it wasn’t always my case. I’ve been cruelly treated many many times. 

Maybe I’m receiving this benevolence because of my attitude. I try to be gracious and grateful. Maybe it’s synchronicity. But I hope people are starting to see the us again. 

I’m so fucking sick of subsets. Stop dividing us.