If CANCER hasn't taught me anything, it's:

Every "I LOVE life—whatever is left for me!" post will be followed by "another day of blood in my watery shit" post.

It's just the way CANCER is. It gives no GOOD without and an equal or proportionately higher dose of BAD. It just does.

So, here's what I hope:

I'm sitting around with my band peeps and we're laughing and drinking and we just got finished with a good night of music—like tonight—and maybe it's after a gig or just a rehearsal (like tonight) and someone says:

"Hey, slatts, weren't you suppose to be dead three years ago?"

Hemorrhoids and CANCER and blood clots and blood thinners is fuckin' gawd-awful combination!

I could fucking die tonight and I will know I was in Heaven before I did.

Nothing beats a good Music Night with the full band.

I LOVE you Walter Mittys!!!

So, I take it the effects of my last chemo dose must be over.

I woke up this morning only feeling like I had been hit by a bus and not like I had been dropped off a twenty-story building.

And hit by a fucking bus!

CANCER has killed my band.

The dreaded C-word has taken the C-word of COMMITMENT and replaced it another C-word, CANCELLATION.

I'm so depressed that CANCER has killed the one thing I so truly enjoy. It's killed my music

It's fucking killed my band!