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Cancer tired

Cancer tired is not normal tired.  Cancer tired is having a more or less wide-awake brain, watching your body glue itself to the sofa incapable of movement.  It’s being frantic about all you want or need to do while the rest of you wants to buy sneakers on QVC.   It’s just all wrong.

Oy oy oy

So my heavily fragmented digestive system, for no discernible specific reason, is in full rebellion.  I’ve tried it all to feel better -

food (icepops, mostly)

drink (soy milk)

drugs (whatever’s in the box)

sobbing (not effective)

puzzles (also not effective)

blogging (completely ineffective).

So, who’s gonna direct this thing?

When I finally get the script for the inevitable solo show, “GUTS - The Musical” (Working title only), I’ll need someone to steer me right.

Keep in mind that I am heavily influenced by “All that Jazz,” the Fosse movie by Fosse where he choreographs his own death as a giant production number.  Genius! Go Netflix it now.

In this spirit, I will be casting the “Cancer Dancers,” in full 80s Chorus Line regalia, gold spangled leotards and snappy hats.  5-6-7-8!

And instead of Jessica Lange as the guardian angel, I’ll probably just use my recently deceased mom.

Fun times, people! Who’s with me?

About Mom

So I was watching VH1 Top artists (yes, my brain is on idle) and it made me think of my mom.

My mom was into concerts.  Big, crazy rock concerts.  Well into her 60s.  About the same age as Mick Jagger - she saw the Stones numerous times.  She’d leave early, to beat the crowds, but boy did she love Mick.

As one of her friends said in a card to me, she was one of a kind.

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