Cancer Notes - 9/5/03

1. I am waiting for the Muse - or its equivalent - to tell me how to shed my old life, just as I'm shedding my "skin bag" (Zen for "body") piece by piece. Is my past (and the possessions remaining from it, like so much flotsam wqashed up on the shore) weighing me down? If I have only a few active years left, how should I spend them?

Should I sell everything and let life tell me what happens next, as I've done in the past? What's the plan? What's the Question that informs that plan? I feel the winds of change blowing through my soul as I begin (continue!) the process of shedding my body. It's time to let go of the old life - but what's the new one about? Do I just drift and wait to see who will turn up next as in my travels?

Perhaps the Greyston project in Yonkers will tell me more.

2. Today I am sitting outside at Porter's on 7th Ave. It is Labor Day weekend, and yesterday I managed to achieve a mild sunburn in a leisurely day that was a perfect Door County (WI) blue-sky/low-humidity composition.

Yesterday I brunched at Sette (also 7th Ave.), lingering over the Times crossword for 4 hours and chatting intermittently with Steve, my homeless fried, who is only a year older than I. Unlike me, however, he has maintained an admittedly dazzling career of cigarettes and alcohol, uninterrupted by work. I admire his consistency and his youthful demeanor, which contrasts with his greying mane. I bet he could clean up good, if he ever stopped working so hard at his two passions!

I then wandered over to Pier 63, where a Bahamian festival was in progress. Purchasing 2 small bags of acid-green hommade coconut candy, plus a 2-day unlimited ticket for the Water Taxi (at a $12 Senior's price, as a gift from the Taxi to make up for the cancer), I set off to explore Manhattan from the water. I chose the top deck of the boat for a better view and nearly had my clothes blown off in the wind. With Gabe as my guide (newly arrived from Provo, Utah, and working for the Taxi), we raced to the Intrepid; back to Chelsea; down to Christopher St.; then to the World Financial Center. next was Battery Park; Dumbo (sort of); Wall St.; and (inexplicably) 34th St. on the East Side. It's amazing how fast a cat-boat can go!

Japanese tourists came and went and Gabe improvised a spiel for the last legs of the trip that was worthy of the Circle Line, and good for one who's only been here a few weeks.

Today, however, is altogether different. Huge dark cumulus and blackened rags bowl across the sky, from east to west. Florida is being turned to confetti by Frances (an encore to Charley and the intro act for Ivan). It's in the 60s, but the wind makes it feel cooler.

Waiting for my coffee to arrive (some day), the Vicodin is creeping ghrough my body, paralyzing me up to my brain. At least the pain is gone.

Only one more surgery to go . . .