Zilch

Zilch 

I have nothing.  Nothing and no one.  The job is gone. The dog is gone.  Desire is gone. The PSAs are undetectable, so maybe the cancer is gone.  It looks like I will live. They won’t call it remission officially until it has been 5 years cancer free.  Let’s just call it rim noises for now.  

The doddering turd needs to be pushed out.

What am I going to do?  I would like to live as I am:  spado grace. I’d like to make the work I can make.  Negotiate my own desperate traumas. Change and be changed.  This essay, the one you have been reading twice a day for three weeks, is some of it.  

About a month ago, not long before I started pushing this essay out into the social world, I was taken off the ADT.  If the cancer comes back, they’ll put me back on it. If not, maybe I’ll get stronger and be able to function normally and work again.  The plan is to live like I’ll never die. No more waiting.