It's funny, he was here just yesterday

George Carlin joked that he wanted people to feel that way about how he died.

I ran into a pharmacist I used to work with at Winkler while I was picking up some prescriptions. She looked a lot different, I commented on how I liked how she had cut her hair short.

She said, "Oh no, I didn't cut it, I have lymphoma."

I haven't seen her in over a year, and the whole thing just struck me really hard. I'm bumping into her at a drugstore and here she is talking about her lymphoma. Surreal.

I apologized for being speechless, and she said that she hadn't quite gotten used to it yet, either, although she's happy she's in remission. She hugged me and I didn't ask for her number or email or anything. Just shock.

I shook my head the whole way out, feeling really out of touch with reality, hoping it doesn't happen to me. She was too skinny.

Why prolong it?

I'm really worried about death from illness.

Give me an accident, quick and effortless.

I don't want to waste away as I slowly watch my body fail itself. Please, just let it be quick when it happens.

"I think you have the wrong number."

You think?

You don't know?

I can't figure out why people don't answer things more affirmatively on the phone. I talk to people for about 7 hours/day on the phone and people just need to come out and say what they mean.

I'm talking on my cell phone

My cell phone talks to the tower talks to your cell phone

The guy in the car next to me is downloading porn

The tower beams the naked woman fucked in the ass to his cell phone

The same with the woman in front of me

Not being fucked in the ass, I mean she's feeding off the tower, too

Only, she's lost, caught between the legs of the triangulating towers

They tell her where she is

And she feels better

I lose signal across a patch of no transmission. And there's these trees up ahead and I have 3 bars now and I'm thinking how strange it is that all of this is being broadcast through the trees. The naked woman, my phone call, that lady's directions. Data being sent in frequencies undetectable to my ears and my eyes. Data bouncing around and off the trees, endless streams of it.
And soon, we'll have these new networks that can go through concrete. Go through trees! Trees pierced by endless blowjobs and mindless chatter.

dreams

In the sanctity of my dreams, I meet myself sometimes. My wants get exposed.

From a book he was reading, "The people delay the inevitable, we're all put here to scream."

My neck was in his hand, looking over his shoulder. In contrast to what was being said, there was another exercise in going against the nature of pain and suffering.

He had made me want him, with my neck in his hands.

Where did it go?