Wednesday, January 26, 2022
The Futility of Living
The cancer is taking forever to kill me.
There's an old woman coughing in to her hand next to me. She used to be a nurse, so she knows better. But that was 50 years ago. Probably before the germ theory of illness transmission was taught. After she's done coughing she applies a red quilted cloth mask to her face.
I'm contemplating all the evil women who tried molesting me as a 20 year old. They took Bob's Gold Star too. He should be angrier about that.
I can't remember the last time I wrote to you angry. Mostly it's been about resignation. Which is something you don't like about me. How quick I am to give up. How nothing ever works out for me. No one likes that shit, including me. It engenders pity. And nothing is worse than pity.
So instead I'll get angry again. The old Romius T is back baby!!!