.
Wouldn’t it be a fucking scream if I was? What would I do if was actually given three months to live, like my father. Climb Mount Everest? Don’t have the money. Fly to Europe? Don’t have the fucking money. “Drive in the Indy 500? No car. “Do something!” A difficult brain surgery? No education. “Write the great American novel?” I can’t even get the mediocre American novel published.
If I was given three months to live, I’ll keep going and force myself to go on to four months. Then I would nag and tease that doctors that gave me three months. At the end of the fourth month I’d starve myself to death. At least you don’t feel any pain when you starve yourself to death. No, no kidding. You get tired, sleepy and die. If you do not eat for three days straight even the sensation of hunger goes away.
You just expire. That would be a cool way to go. I hate suffering and pain. That shit is the pits. Have you ever wondered how you are going to buy the farm? And have you ever wondered why they call it buy the farm? Well, you know me, I can’t let sleeping words lie. I found on the Internet: “My Air Force Officer husband told me the origin as generally accepted in USAF. When a pilot mused about retirement he would say, ‘I’m gonna buy a nice little farm and settle down’ so when a fatal crash occurred his surviving buddies would say he had ‘bought the farm’ — he had retired, permanently”.
Today, I worked out and headed outside to take my walk and didn’t take my water bottle with me. Dumb move. When I got four blocks away I was in sheer pain. You can’t work out without water in the body to liquefy the bloodstream and allow smoother circulation of the oxygenated blood to the demanding muscles. When they took my blood at the 9/11 Clinic and at the blood testing lab they commented on how thick it was. They warned me to drink plenty of water. The one thing that I don’t drink enough of. Even at Metropolitan Hospital when I went to have my blood potassium checked, they said that my bloodstream was like ‘sludge’.
So I only made a few blocks before I turned around in misery. The damn water pills that I’m on makes me piss out liquids faster than I can put it in. Even my digestive juices are having the same problem. I burp FIRE often. When I’m sleeping I puke up pure lava from my belly filling my mouth. Good thing I don’t inhale when I sleep and drown myself on my own vomit. And it’s like pure acid. I end up on my hands and knees, hurling into the garbage can.
And my esophagus is always burning. Like I’ve swallowed a red hot coal or drank a straight shot of Jack Daniels. I still, to this date cannot believe that I used to drink that shit like water. Crazy right? Well, that's enough of my computer and health problems. Tomorrow I’m coming after you with another thought provoking topic. I promise.
Or I can talk about my health again. I just burped pure FIRE.
HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2011/05/when-all-pleasure-causes-all-pain.html
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