Circus Phénomène.

Benefits, to having crohns.
It brought me a discomfort then
it brought me this song.

laa laa laaa laaa na na na la la la.

The sickness forces
you to take care of your body.

One of the many things people
take for granted is the durability
of human biology.

I have a hard time to digest, when I'm
rotten, watching healthy people
gorge themselves in fat and nicotine,
sweating out grease and tobacco
at each incline. And thinking. Christ.
What a waste. I aint talking about
no self-destructive clown, I'm talking
about slow death and I don't care.
I'm talking about waiting for delivery
and demise, about negativity and all
those people who have to work under it.
bang!

What does it take to appreciate life.
Why do we have to come close to death
to understand how lucky we are to be
alive.

I chalk it up to bad education. A lack
of interest. What makes a person seek
out the source, as opposed to those
who float through each day humping
dead dreams. Even worse, other peoples
dreams. Automation believers, as is written
out silly on the wall to my right.

Disease is not so much an unwelcome visitor
as a quotation around the mark.
It's an inward journey, an opportunity
to see what your truly made of.
It's like your a child again, where every
emotion is raw. Every decision is instant
and instinctive as you've not the energy
to think anything through.

It's an opportunity, a blessing. An
obvious trial. Like navigating through
societal rhythms with a head full of
hallucinogen.
You're guaranteed to garner a curious perspective.

I look around and appreciate the change.

Yes. I am in control.

While ill, I was apt to notice the animal
in people and I'm reminded of something my
father told me. " You will always know who
your friends are, when you ask for money."
(In that case dad, you and mom are my best friends)

The same goes for when your sick. People's
true nature comes to light. Whether it's the
R-Complex.

What the hell is that?

Well, it's the seat of aggression, ritual,
territoriality and social hierarchy. A place
in the brain which evolved just above the brain stem
hundreds of millions of years ago from our
reptilian ancestors. People, friends, will
take this opportunity, while your in a weakened
state, to pounce on you, right for the jugular.
It's weird, to be sure, but very true.
As I'm prone to notice these things, I'm always
curious if they do too. Or how they rationalize
their behavior.
People always know when your sick, whether they're
conscience of it or not. I suppose it depends on how
aware they are. How honest.
It's as if a sense of fear arises in them. A fear of death? How
can you be afraid of death. Could it be your
regrets haunt your memories, like a mouse in
the cookie cubbord.
I remember when I started getting a hard-line
of Remicade.
What's it like? I'll explain.

You sit in a lazyboy for two hours,
the drug dripping steadily into your veins.
When it's time for a morning movement, a morning
poo is good for you, you wheel the IV down the corridor
and into the toilet.
I started to notice how people were looking
at me, giving me queer looks,
or looking past me as we crossed paths.
Judging, always judging aren't we.
I found it so bizarre as I feel perfectly
healthy, in this persons eyes, I'm sick, and
diseased, a leper.
The lizard, and the leper.
It made me laugh. Still does. I'm laughing right now.

To balance the scale you've the limbic system,
or the mammalian brain. The next step in human
evolution. The limbic system is the major source
of our moods and emotions, of our concern and
care for the young. These are the people you
want to have around you. People who shower you with
love, and understanding. Patient people who
will take any bombardment of negativity you
can throw at them. They take it, absorb
it, rinse it out with compassion, and empathy.
These people will get you through the hard
days.
These are the ones that stick around.

And as your fight with disease progresses just
as many people exit your life as come into it.
I look at it like passing through a sieve,
filtering out all the corrosive energy
that got caught between the gears.
It's a cleansing.
No pun intended, but it fits don't it.
You come out of the illness free of
some of the burdons that bound you.
You have a new perspective on life,
you are reborn, without the help of
evangelical lizard linguistics.
Now your spinning around in awe and
can faintly hear Ogives, Ogive n° 1
whistling welcome on the morning breeze.
Cold comfort, a blatant solace.
You start to feel embarrassed.
You look back at past behavior
and it's like looking at a wild
tumultuous child ravaged by pain and
confusion. Fighting against everything,
abusing love, and setting fire to
anything with extra tinder.
This neglected savage who wears
your face pitted atop a skeletal
body seems alien to your reflected
person. And you find it's hard
to swallow.
You deny what your told, and find
a truth inside.
You've begun a new life, you have
been reawakened.

Pain has brought you out of misery, how
can it be?

Intense pain will wear away any exaggerated
self opinion, any loftiness, any pomposity,
any conceit, it will abort any misconceptions
you have about life.

Someone told me once, in a bashful abuse
of a friendship gone awry. "Your not the
center of the Universe, Man!"
I had understood that he, had just learned
this lesson, and that he had had a terrible
time adjusting to what he believed to be
a very hard truth.
Little did he know that there are an infinite
hierarchy of universes. That within a elementary
particle, an electron, if cracked open
would reveal itself to be an entire closed universe.
Inside would be an immense number of smaller particles.
Which are universes at the next level.
An infinite downward regression, universes within universes
within universes.
We're all the center of our own universe.
Watching galaxies wobble
with each pretensions swagger.

Sounds like automatic writing, without
the speed.

The point I'm trying to make folks is that
nothing is everything. Depending on your point
of view. I once heard a man dying of pancreatic
cancer, that's a bad one, say the doctor's only
gave him six months to live. He lived a year past
expectations stating to the reporter, "I bet
I'm the luckiest man you've ever met."
As he was in the rare position to appreciate
every second, every inanimate object, every
sound, color, mother and brother. He
was glowing through his pale skin, he
was free.
The same as I yearn to be.
You, me, we be free,

"freedom is just another word
for nothin' left to lose."
he said.
"get it while you can"
he said.
"because it aint gonna be there when you
wake up man."

la la na na na la la la

...gatsby~