No need to mention it, but it is a fact. Given averages, I'd say I have a "good" fifteen years at the outside. But things being exacerbated and accelerated these days, it could happen of its own much sooner.
Despite incredible efforts of self-preservation, the outcome became obvious to me a few years ago. Now it is just a matter of monitoring it and taking notes. Not that the notes will be important, but what does a dying man do, anyway?
It's probably just my consciousness begging to live on in some way, scribbling his miserable tag line on the wall before collapsing, like a prisoner in a cell, etching his last epitaph to tell the world, "Goddammit, I was here!" Well, that about wraps things up on this exciting episode. Now back to watching "The Andromeda Strain."
Yep. I'm definitely closer this evening than I was this morning. Incrementally closer, but closer and not farther, from the day I will expire like a carton of suspicious smelling milk. I keep sniffing the air and I get a faint whiff of it in the wind. It's getting closer.
Bwhaaahahaha! Spooked yerself real good dintcha? More wine, less weed next time. And definitely stick to one day a week on the coffee. Either that, or do it everyday so it doesn't affect you so much. Whooo-weee! And drink more water.
And what's up with that beard? You gonna shave it or go all Cuckoo's Nest on the situation? You've got nothing to prove to anyone, either way. You're mad as a hatter and fucked up like, well, something that gets penetrated in an upward direction, whatever that might be. I didn't think that one all the way through. Yeah. --zzzzz--pulling the plug on you, man--
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.