Cousin Jimmy II

I decided today that I am just going to stop answering the phone when my Mother calls. In general, when I call her everything is fine. But when she calls, she never has a damn good thing to report.

Today she called to tell me that the round of chemo that Jimmy just went through didn't work.
I was sitting in the office fighting like hell not to cry. And since, when I try to avoid my emotions they instantly morph into a hideous rage, I found myself wanting to smash my cell phone into the desk top until LG was permanently imprinted into the fromica. Fuck cell phones, fuck bad news, and fuck leukemia. I left the office a little while ago, because I knew I had to get somewhere where I could reset.

On the bus ride to Juscha's pad, the only outlet I had to engage emotionally was through music, ironically the same LG phone that I had wanted to utterly destroy earlier in the day. As I sat listening to I Drove All Night (both the Celine and Cyndi Lauper versions), I again found myself about to cry. I live with a disease that could eventually kill me. I also know that if I had to I could run a marathon and that I have had no discernable change in physical health even with a compromised immune system thanks to HIV. My cousin, who until several months ago was fit as a horse, finds it hard to get up the energy to get the fuck out of bed. What. The. Fuck.

In my world things don't happen this way. Bad things that happen to good people blow my fucking mind. I made stupid ass choices and because of my stupid ass choices, I ended up with a disease. Yes indeed, I had the shit beaten out of me growing up and because of my childhood I ended up with a whole mess of mental health issues that helped me fast and quick down the road to those bad choices---but in the end I still made them.

Jimmy is suffering from some shit that he in no way earned or played a part in getting. Again. What. The. Fuck.

I am going to have a God damn anuerism right here on this futon...and I hope I do. Cuz I am hitting the other side kicking ass and calling names. St. Peter...fuck you bitch...KAPOW! Archangel Michael...suck my dick...BAM! St. Francis...you bitch ass pansy....CRACK! I am taking out every saint, cherub, seraphim, and archangel I can find. And then I'm heading up to the Big House to have some words with JC and his pops.

Basically. I'm pissed. And I am going to take nap. Pray for Jimmy ya'll. He needs it. And my prayers are to full of other words right now for God to hear me.