I put on Elvis’s The Wonder of You, and I love the intro with the drum roll and Elvis going, “Ooooh, hoh….When no one else can understand, when everything I( do is wrong (audience applause), you give me hope and consoloation, you give me strength the carry on, and always there to lend a hand in everything I do…”
I don’t think of a specific person, I think of the power of life–laurie, stand-up, all of you who have helped me so much.
It inspires me. I think of how I was under a pile of blankets on a hot day shivering from chemo, waking up with eight tubes sticking out of various parts of my body in the hospital, paddling for a wave no one else could get and taking a laste drop and making it while my buddies hoot, helping my friends with gifts and goodies, and rushing and not nervous to the stage becasuse no matter how hard cancer has pressed me, no matter how desolate my body, the jobs I was unjust downsided from, I would never let anything stop me from retaining the Fred in me. So9me people say this is ego. And trhey’re assholes. They can stare at navels and look into the universe, but what paint brush are you using to paint yourself and your spirit and its connection with everyone else in the canvas of the world. Isn;t that worth fighting for, climbing for, getting not down and springing up and destroying the force that tried to take you down, yes, to…to..to…TRIUMPH with the spirit inside you, where you use all your colors in whatever pattern. But it’s all you, and that’s a painting very few can admire from a distance.
So I gear up today to go in for a “procedure” where they are going to widen my food passage. Ideally everything will go well. Sometimes when I fight fort getting appointments and set them up I wonder if I’m like the guy who rushes to get to a flight that eventually flies into a mountain. Then I smile.
People say, “Are you afraid, scared, frightened.
No, I come out of my corner with fight, defiant, trying to writer jokes and books and be a better friend of those around mine–I will not give up my spirit to nothingness. I feel sorry for anything that gets in my way for thinking it can take me down by making me give up on myself, others, comedy, and life. That tool is not on my belt. And so I grimly, methodically, with a slight stylish dance step, throws the most vicious punches you’ve ever seen, and I live to kill unredeemed who can only live in darkness because there is nothing for them to ever see in themselves.
A so the soul flies away from ther flames and ashes and salutes the sun with a contemptuous laugh.
You wanna make something of it.