The death of Dr. K

Well, the right to death with appropriate dignity champion is gone and there is no one to take the mantle, who would? I can champion the right for others and possibly myself to die but there are no initials after my name, there are none that would find comfort in my own method of passing before God sees fit to do it on his/her own.
I'm thinking a .380 or a 9mm - nothing bigger or smaller as that would be messier than necessary or potentially ineffective. Nothing would be worse than dying in a mental institution for the suicidal - being grouped around the ineffective teenage angst of daddy doesn't get me or mommy wants me to pee sitting only - I would reccomend that you have pity on your loved ones and cover the joint in plastic and call 911 right before you pull the trigger.
Most people would want to go the good doctors way - peacefully and loaded on pain killers.
I just want to go out suddenly but I have a facination with being assassinated and my mother drempt of it and my son dreams of it - I wouldn't mind going out like that - like an honest poet.
The last poet to be gunned down was WIllie Lee Bell Jr - in front of his Florida night club - Before that Garcia Lorca who is my own hero - just give me a government to stand against... oh, yeah, I have that - only it is better than Franco while being as deceiving as Castro at times.
oops - I may lose all followers for that one... Maybe I ought to admit I voted for him as well, maybe I ought to admit that he has been a disappointment but possibly still better than the given alternative but this is about assisted suicide and the right to end our own lives.

I love my misreads

on another blog I saw...

Assholes... it is Friday... and life is good!

that isn't what was written but it is what my mind wanted to read. so there you have it...


Assholes, it is Friday and life is good.

woke up today with a massive headache - from a tenseness in the shoulder region, bridging into the neck region.
this is always an ominous start to the day - I prefer sex dreams which are always an auspicious start to the day.
Although waking with a massive erection is a bit of trouble and waiting for it to subside usually results in falling back to sleep.

today I am mostly waiting for the headache to mend and trying to figure a way out of doing the dishes.

the bells in the chapel sounded

do you love me.

I found god, the devil, narcotics and heaven in situ.

areas close to the Grimsvotn volcano were plunged into darkness.

and the day passed without further recourse, without further comment.

back to writing but feel there needs to be something new. Some other aberration to full the void of the quintessential. 

entropy is perpetually resolute.

people ain't no good

so much pain in these past days - finally I took four times the prescription to be able to sleep - awoke in the middle of the night and made love to my wife, hobbled around the house for a cigarette after and fell back to sleep. Drug induced sleep is never restful but that wasn't the point, it was to escape pain, escape teeth breaking clenched jaws and now I am having slight hallucinations and still in incredible pain.
Once asked how I would define the last four years of my existence - what one word to sum it all, everything I've learned, everything I'd experienced -- all I could say was not love although the love thrust upon me from my wife was extraordinary - pain was what my lips couraged up. Pain has defined my existence for now four and a half years, barely controlled rage from said pain and narcotics and it's not like I get high, it's not like I can enjoy the crippling addiction to opiates, narcotics and sympathetic nerve control medications, I cannot enjoy the shaking hand and hallow feel ebb away once the drugs take effect, I cannot enjoy the simplicity of walking to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

I try to not complain.

really.


today and yesterday and the day previous has been an experience of bordering on going to the hospital for a near lethal amount of Dilaudid.
but pain is loud and I cannot scream through its cacophonous discombobulation.

power to us whores! our form of proletariat prostitution need no pimp!

I once had a heart

I have a love

power to us whores! our form of proletariat prostitution need no pimp!