Day +15. Things are going well. The doctors seem really happy about “his numbers,” which is a list of cell counts and various things like blood PH balance that’s about 2 pages long. We continue living at this Ronald McDonald House 5 blocks South of the hospital for 2-4 weeks if everything keeps going well. We visit the hospital 3 times a week for “labs,” or where they draw and test his blood. I miss my dog, and am ready to go home.
This morning at the buttcrack of dawn I started walking to Ohio Street Beach where I made another movie about a dog. I didn’t sing in this one like I have in others, but that’s only due to the fact that my vocal chords were still in the process of being warmed by coffee. It’s always possible that later in the day I may come across a different dog and form a song about it in my head which can then be vocalized, you never know.
“Luck is a very thin wire between survival and disaster, and not many people can keep their balance on it.
I have never believed much in luck, and my sense of humor has tended to walk on the dark side. Muhammad Ali, one of my very few heroes, once took the time to explain to me that “there are no jokes. The truth is the funniest joke of all.”” -HST
“Although I don’t feel that it’s at all necessary to tell you how I feel about the principle of individuality, I know that I’m going to have to spend the rest of my life expressing it one way or another, and I think that I’ll accomplish more by expressing it on the keys of a typewriter than by letting it express itself in sudden outbursts of frustrated violence. . . .” -HST