Pisces 17° (March 7)
This has been a tough couple of days. Any kind of things involving people’s health is always a bit of a pickle, emotionally. Growing up the male Katharine Hepburn I always thought I’d face physical challenges with a yankee resolve; then again, I thought I would swim every day off a dock all year long. Neither of these things seem to have become my eventual reality; so I know I have a long way to go in this area, and in others. I know this. But then I return to the Kate Hepburn thing or anything stiff-upper-lippy. What is the alternative, I ask you. It has to be thus. We must be strident in the face of adversity. There is no other way. I hate medications, I will either endure the damage or make changes where changes might mean something. Otherwise I’m pretty fine, floating; and I will face whatever may come. Doing so is an expression of the dignity of being alive.
Our friend Taylor said that “Comparison is violence” and I not only agree; but I would suggest it is a self-inflicted sort. I may have written this very sentence a few Blagues back but, to be honest, writing so much in so short a spate of time, really is a blur. And yet I’m proud of the quantity, if not the quality. And I feel there might be some gems of wisdom to be found in the silt of the past six weeks playing so-called catch-up which I realize was more than that. Yes, I got derailed in October receiving news that, whether you label it “devestating” or not devestated me. I was feeling so happy and so optimistic about the representation we were being offered. “Let’s have some fun,” said the top agent who was “interested in representing” us back in May—and then the slow silent descent of six months ending with an abrupt…”Unfortunately…” Oh how I loathe that word. And I’m sad to have discovered how easily it was to derail me. In my defense, I swore off all agents, lawyers, managers as best I could, dating back at least six years; because I never again wanted to find myself in a position where someone could take me off my game with just that one word, ususally uttered after 5PM on a Friday.
So many cowards. And so many rich cowards to boot.
I don’t want to compare, as I say, because of the violence factor but, really, most of the people I know that are very wealthy (but for a few poignant exceptions with whom I have close bonds) are really just venal and vapid in equal measure. I surely do not want to be like them. Ever. I want to be one of the good eggs that gets his. And I have. And I’m not greedy. And it’s not that I want more for more sake. I actually want it for security and peace of mind. And so I must again take up my warrior spear and set upon making a difference, for myself, and for my loved one, in this world. I do just have the one—that wasn’t a typo, despite what the daily sign-off (below) of this Blague might suggest.
Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*
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