Sunday, 01 April 2007

• Currently Reading The Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald see related

  I'm not gone yet. I just haven't said anything in a while. Xanga is still better than Myspace and Facebook and where ever else people may move on to. Especially now that the majority of people are gone.
  
  I just got back from a cruise. My first cruise. Maybe my only cruise, considering how poor I am now. But possibly not, considering how wealthy I'd like to be.
  
  Anyway, lots of neat stuff happened. My favorite was seeing the hispanic school kids in uniform, running around. Second was the live musicians. There were some piano players I saw, and one trombone player who reminded me of someone, and this kinda cute guitar player who played during dinner most nights.
  
  Oh! And the art auction. I learn a little more about art and saw lots of paintings. I learned lots about Michael Goddard, who is now the top selling artist. He had a biographic movie that came on several times during the cruise, and I stopped to watch it most times. Then there's Constantine Cherkas, a Russian who got caught by the Nazis. He said it was the most important thing that ever happened to him, because afterward everything looked beautiful to him. And I learned what Fauvism is.
  
  There was lots of food too. I tried a bunch of stuff, like snails and mussels and scallops and squid. Most were gummy, so I didn't much care for them. Mussels especially. Yuck.
  
  And I saw a comedian juggler. He was pretty cool.
  
  Oh yeah. Two people went overboard. I hear it was in the news. I don't know how much of it was fact, because all I've heard is hearsay. Don't ask me.
  
  I had a strange dream last night. The first thing I remember is being in a hospital bed, infected with this new, never seen before disease, and then realizing it may not have a cure. Realizing I may never get better, but still hanging on to the optimism that I will. Kept feeling so sure that I'd get better, even though my brain was telling me that I might now. That I probably wouldn't. I was in denial. Then the doctors gabe me an anesthesiatic pop cicle ice cream and performed a type of surgery. They stuck me with needles, several times, and somehow remobed these needle-like bone masses that had formed in my infected arm and leg. Then I was let go, and I had to go to band like always. I go out onto the football field, following everyone else, and Mr. Hill's growling at me not be late. Everyonen knows I'm sick, but they don't realize it may be serious, and I don't plan on telling them because I'm hping it won't be.
  
  An odd, scary dream, but very enlightening. It gave me an epiphany, told me something I never would have realized unless I'd actually gotten sick for real. Showed me what it would be like.
  
  I guessed from the bone masses that it was a type of cancer, but cancer never crossed my mind while I was dreaming.
  
  Anyway, I'm really tired. I may type more later. Or not.
  

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