Better later than never, Happy Thanksgiving to all.
“What’s the greatest story ever told,” as I ask myself in this crazy drowsy life, we call the twenty-first century?
There’s only one thing – just one thing that bothers me on a day like today – just how in the hell did we get from Wednesday to Thursday so fast! Even though this is Friday and this blog post is likely behind schedule in being published into cyberspace by the rugby danes of time, which is nothing compared to Greenwich Village and the Village People.
Of course, there are 365 days in a year and it takes the Earth 24 hours to rotate around a star we call – the Sun – “phooey,” it’s sour grapes with relish and pickles at least to say.
Time rotates twenty-four hours into the future and not into the past, “it’s literally a proven fact,” as my brother would say comically with a pair of cheese sticks looking like “werewolf or vampire fangs” hanging dangerously from his mouth like a childish jokester, all while trying to impress me with his pre-Halloween imitations of London’s “Jack the Ripper.”
Logically, I’m berated as a dumbfounded cricket looking for an answer on how, I got from Wednesday to Thursday, twenty-four hours later into the future?
“Yes, I know I went to sleep the night before while spending the entire night writing this smurf..!”
Unless, I’m just one of those literal jackass looking for some silly cucumber with pickles and Crispy Kreme Donuts, while walking down the fragrance isles of the Macy’s Department Store on New York’s famed 34th Street in Downtown Manhattan, riddance rules the day once again – “well crap,” that explains it all.
Good riddance life is getting old these days, but it never seems to get any younger in my generation gap as we keep getting older by the “day, minute and year” as the world continues to spin among the vast voids of space around our galaxy, the Milky Way.
Perhaps, I’m just a crazy old crow or chap looking to start a catfight about time travel from the past to the present in record timing? I do know for a fact, a number of years ago likely in my younger days of adulthood, I was wondering how I left behind my high school days for the adult world in record time. Perhaps, it was a time trip through the legendary “quantum leap” to our present timing to the future of 2017?
“Man, something better give me some good riddance, I’m going nuts!,” not only by the minute but also by the seconds – perhaps, I’ve been watching too much “YouTube” with the reruns of M*A*S*H and the #4077!
There may be change, as I continue my battle with Cancer – likely, a new lease on life is in store for the time being?
Last week, I got the results back from my recent scans on the latest prognosis with my current treatment (Chemotherapy).
I chose to fight the disease with my Oncologist, rather than let the low life disease take me for granted, “no way Jose is that going to happen, that’s for damn sure!” I will continue the battle.
The battle continues as I take in my sixth round of Chemotherapy, while I await my doctor’s return from his oversea’s vacation to see what his next step will be with my course of treatment.
Change is always good news as they say, especially when the Chemotherapy seems to be doing its job and my body is responding well to treatment, something the Cancer team likes to see on their part as far as treatment is concerned.
It gives them a better perspective on extending the patient’s lease on life. As for me? It’s just another dose with a new lease on life. The news couldn’t come at a better time, because I was expecting the worst possible outcome, when treatment would have not worked and my body may have rejected it all. Literally this isn’t the case with this round on the battlefield – its awesome news!
Fighting the “war on cancer” with Chemotherapy has done an awesome job has I transitioned to a new life in the Midwestern states of the Great Lakes nearly a year ago coming this December.
What can be more astounding than doing a rain dance, when the fall rains and chillier weather is upon us, as we work our way toward Halloween, the holidays and beyond? Nada, it’s just the greek sauce on the pasta that makes things sweeter than the Amish cornstalks and the ripeness of the great Northwest Red Apples.
I feel stronger, better, and healthier to say – I mus say, I was probably on the mist of losing life, when it was all discovered in the four months since, its discovery.
My thought is you either kick cancer’s ass or you don’t. I’d rather kick its butt rather than let it do what it wants to do with my life cancerwise and kill me in the long run, as I say, “it ain’t gonna happen Gracie, I’m gonna keep running to third base and score a “home run,” as I smack the ball out of the goddamn ballpark with a spanking new Louisville Slugger made just for the occasion of beating the disease to the core.
My Chemotherapy treatment seems to be the best method and route to go as I see it in today’s world of modern medicine, as for other’s, their treatment may adversely be different from mine and the suggestion of their Oncologist.
Life is precious enough to continue living out the next fifty years or more – but, surviving the rounds of treatment and the prognosis of surviving the disease is probably one the best choices I could have made has I mentioned elsewhere in this blog.
It was a choice, not only a good one, but a precious one at hand, while taking a leap of faith and see where it goes – the gamble was all I needed to play my cards at hand and hopefully, just hopefully it was all I needed, perhaps, I may have won the jackpot on life?
The fight and the war on cancer continues as they say in the Army – “hooah!,” which is always a good thing, while the Marines Semper Fi the battle at will.
There is something of about reality, when you sleep at night.
The reality of one’s dreams look real, as you fall into the deep sleep state of the Twilight Zone.
It almost makes the late Gene Rodenberry look like the master of suspense, even though the king of suspense was once held by the late Alfred Hitchcock, who made zealions at the art of suspense with the motions pictures he produced and realeased through Hollywood during his time on Earth.
Hitchcock was the master, King and Wes Craven were the followers.
Suspense is not the defiance of horror as Stephen King would write with his masterful creations in the stories he writes, produce as horror novelist.
But, neither of my dreams have, nor have they been the Master’s of suspense, somehow it feels that way. Maybe? Just maybe, because the approaching thought of Holloween seems to be a few short weeks away and just around the corner next month.
I’m completely immersed in the thought of doing just that – writing the story, about the dream.
Dreamscape has kept me in the pure thought of telling a story, perhaps not only the short version of the story itself – but, to tell the story through short films?
I’m not a master of the genre, but a fan, a writer, blogger, a dipsy frog looking for answers of how the dream came to my mindset and more?
This would make short filmmaker Ryan Connley of YouTube fame at Film Riot, look like the next Wes Craven or Stephen King wannabe – close, but, not that close, but close. Well, almost close enough to say.
Connley is an up and coming short filmmaker and his work seems to improve with each short film he releases through his company.
With no cast and crew in insight on my end of the chain, the reality of the dream and the story to be told is beyond the art of fact, fiction nor truth, “it’s somewhere in between there,” I say to myself during my course of thought.
As, I regain the thought of suspense through the art of dreamscape, as I go into the state of deep sleep the story is still being told and written on another plane of thought somewhere above Cloud Nine in the world of Dreamscape.
Belief is the beast of one’s dreams, between reality, fact and fiction – its hard to dimiss, it was only a dream, a mindset of ones subconscious of deep sleep.
At least, E. T., hasnt told me to call home yet, which is good – it would be a guilt trip if Charlie Brown and Snoopy found the great answers to the “Great Pumpkin Patch,” Linus has been blabbing about for years.
“You build it, they will come,” as they say in the movie, “The Field of Dreams,” with Kevin Costner as he stands amid a corn field in his characters farm, as the ghosts of baseball’s past says to his character Ray.
Dreams are the same way in my own mind. Perhaps, that’s probably, why Fall is upon us?
At least, it wasn’t a salty “Payday” candy bar, but a damn Cuban cigar that smells like the pure truth of the Indian Stories once told by an Indian Reservation tribunal Indian Chief during my childhood.
“Phooey..!,” is my answer.
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