Friday, January 14, 2011

A New Hope? 42 has got to be better.

It’s been challenging.  I have been in the hospital for 67 of the last 120 days.  That’s not a record.  In fact, for the elderly, why it’s better than the social calendar at Aunt Bee’s Old Tyme Retirement Village and Saloon.  However, I just turned 42 today.  Yeppers,  get my groove on, it’s my birth- anyway you get the idea.
Why so sick?  The inner drama of being a gay man who hasn’t been to a club in 2 years?  No, but there is a definite connection.  The condition has to do with my lungs.  Of the 6 hospitalizations, all have been for pneumonia of unknown origin.  There is a certain fear and pride of growing a bug that stumps the full staff at John Hopkin’s.  It was nice of them to send me the “Warning:  Leper” lapel pin.  That’s love, darling, that’s love.
Earlier in the year, I was very productive.  I wrote a 120,000 word autobiography called All Gays Go to Heaven at the rate of 2000 word per day.  I had it edited, it was “developed” and then, finally, a publishing house sniffed out the fact that it was and is a great read.  I highly recommend you pick up a copy.  Or visit www.allgaysgotoheaven.com and tell me why you don’t want to buy a copy.  I promise to respond to all inquiries.
After finishing and getting All Gays ready to go on to the publisher, I found myself bored.  But, not for long.  McGraw-Hill sent a request to publish an article in a middle school textbook about bullying.  Lord, have mercy when I saw that they had left the amount of compensation blank and asked me to invoice for the article.  I took a shot at it and actually got my asking price.  Woo hoo!
Sadly, I  have had some real bummers this year as I have failed to be the man I should be.  My apologies for missing appointments and appearances.  If I wasn’t where I was supposed to be, I was in the hospital.  Hey, it’s an improvement.  Two years ago if I wasn’t somewhere I was supposed to be I was in the bar. 
My specific apologies to  M.K.H.,T.W., and F.M.  You know who you are and you know you are loved.  And, of course, thank you to all the people who have touched my life – large and small help in the steps to reaching the ripe old age of 42.  Now, I’ve got to push the “Nurse Call Button”.  How lucky can a guy be?

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