I actually felt normal for two days. Meaning the toxins seemed to have left the building with Elvis. Quietly. No fanfare. And it felt good. Almost undeserving. Or sinister. We won’t get fooled again.

The first two days I cried. A lot. I felt so guilty, convinced I had brought this upon myself. Wished it upon myself – almost demanding the ultimate drama in life – the melodramatic struggle to reconcile. Attention, the sympathy, the sorrow. Killer playlist for the memorial – guaranteed zingers to elicit the last reminder of what a card and a true cad our hero had been. Destined to be remembered. Until he wasn’t. Time – the ultimate healer. But the great eraser as well.

I had a business call in the morning. A young entrepreneurial douche, consistently condescending, arrogant, self-promoting, and self-absorbed. Admirable qualities that will guarantee success. It’s already begun … to feed the monster. The GOP poster child – perhaps a bastard son? He inquired about my wellbeing – his classic ice breaker, barely containing himself for the most important reason for our discussion; Him. And all that revolves around his tantalizing gravitational pull. There’s Jesus, Allah, Ganesha, Buddha, Michael Jordan, Helen Reddy, Tay -Tay, so many great ones. Step aside oh holy ones – there’s a new kid on the block and it ain’t the backstreet boys. Still – tell me why? Hah!

I calmly revealed my disease. “Can’t complain too much, great weather this week, but I have cancer. How are you?” He responded with excitedly acknowledging the exceptional weather, some brief sorrow, then asked what type, and once revealed – told me his father in law died of that very same cancer just last week. There’s unfailingly always a connection – and it’s truly remarkable how everything ultimately comes back to his ubiquitous link to all that’s human! The King of Toppers!

And of course, he was a pall bearer. Are you sitting? It is true – he even worked later that afternoon at a trade show,  so he too had a tough day and few weeks. Emotionally and physically depleted. Top that, carcinoma breath! You can’t! Just an average fucking plebian!

And the next half hour (could I please excuse myself to stick needles in my eyes?) centered on how he and his beloved had very deep soul searching sessions for what truly was important in life; Him! I was moved to tears although the needles were indeed quite sharp. Then onto his business, the endless and unfair challenges, yet all the brilliant plans in place to guarantee his anticipated future of great fame, rewards, and undoubted success. Everyone knows and confirms this. Take a bow, please!

The conversation ended with his warm and benevolent offer to have his bartender make a very special beverage just for me should I find the energy to venture out for a cocktail amidst my mental anguish of mortality, insecurity, and the obnoxious chemo treatments. If it all were simply too overwhelming … please just call him (preferably text), and tell him I’m at his bar and then hand over the phone. I’ll still need to pay but he will direct the exceptionally trained staff on what best to create (given notables of day, weather, terroir, mood, etc.). His genius and generosity had no boundaries. I was now within his orbit and yes very blessed. Have I painted a sufficient picture? Am I jealous? Envious?

Absafuckinlutely!!

I fully acknowledge he is truly so sincere in his pomposity that you can only laugh. Or cry. This was generosity for him. Like Grandmaster D offering Crypto of himself. Sadly, highly acceptable traits for the times. I recognize that in his own giant penis ego cerebellum self – his offer is in fact selfless benevolence. And he’s telling me that his unique gift is also not one that he offers to any mere mortal. I am now special in my time of suffering as he – the anointed one – has declared as such. I finally made it into the King Kool Klub,  a coveted honor and fraternity that eluded me my entire life. Win! may need a new wardrobe, though? Or, … does it even matter?

And perhaps this is what may be often misunderstood about the equally (or far more) great one – The Orange Julius. The Juice consistently prides himself on his many rewards to womankind. Like stacking the Supreme Court with unqualified conservative prep boys and sorority sisters to do God’s bidding so the ladies don’t have to anymore. And grab some quality pussy along the way because OJ can. It’s a birthright. And shut the fuck up you heretics and socialists! Don’t ask – don’t tell. Just don’t say no!

Ok, maybe not a great analogy. I am truly blessed! As is our great white Christian nation! Forgive – I digress.

Back to Me.

So maybe I’m missing the divine message here. That there is an answer, a better alternative. Looking first at my girls, and then the long list of yet unconquered taquerias I saved in Google maps, I’m besieged with doubt. And great fears (terror) that this momentary reprieve is just that. A calculated and evil illusion. A teaser. That the next visit, or maybe next months may change, yet again, our hero’s narrative.

And that’s a motherfucker to digest. Yet I was singing yesterday. It unexpectedly just erupted from within. Felt good. Garnered some applause. Then back to rollercoaster reality. Fighting that pain body urge to better investigate. But knowing full well what lurks beyond the surface, and above the horizon.

Hello mortality my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again. Good news – an amazing beverage awaits me. The best! From the best! And I am blessed!

Good night!