remember that one creepy cat in that hospital who knew when people were dying? it would go into the rooms and chill with the people and a few days later they would croak.
my boy cat Prince has been so nice, he normally doesnt cuddle, he normally sleeps at the foot of my bed. lately he has been right next to me when i wake up and right now hes in my lap as i blog.
i feel healthy? i dont sense any cancer? i just got a check up and it checked out.
if i am about to die, i loved you all, i feel blessed. i had a full life. i had good friends, cool jobs, and a parade of the most interesting women a mild mannered man could have.
if only id lived long enough to have seen the Cubs win it all.
i saw the first black president pull it off in spite of unprecedented cock blocking.
i watched the rise of the Internet and the demise of boredom.
i was able to publish my stupidest thoughts to millions of people and have so many of them right back and say right on tony.
i was able to be a fake taxi driver, which is something i always wanted to do.
i got to move to LA as a teen and learn it and live in it and love it and write for various newspapers and tell its story. trust me when i tell you, i never thought i was gonna be allowed to do even a smidge of that and voila.
i got to self publish a couple of my own books which is the essence of freedom. and i loved them. and i am sad that Cafe Press pulled the plug on that feature before telling me or else i would have printed up a hundred more of stiff and how to blog. sorry charlies.
i got to see my friends have beautiful babies and make kick ass rock n roll. i got to see sooooo much kick ass rock n roll.
i got to walk the red carpet a few times and even get paid for it. how does that even happen?
so if this cat is right and i only have a few hours to live, dont cry for me isla vista, it’s been a far better life than a boy from bumfuck illinois could have ever dreamed of
whats this tuna fish doing in my pocket?