Here is to A Clean Slate & Spring

I’m a clean slate. I’m here at the beginning again. I no longer have cancer. All I have is a long painful scar down my front that reminds me its there every time I twist or lift anything heavier than a large book. Not only does it remind me that I’m not healthy yet, but it reminds me that my body is no longer an ally. I’m no longer beautiful and flawless. I no longer want to take my shirt off in public.

I’m at three quarters health. I have no idea when I’ll be back to hundred percent or if that will ever happen. I’m still got space cadet chemo brain, and that might last a while – or at least I’ll blame it on that. I can walk again. I can get places on foot and not feel like a barrel full of honey badgers just jumped me.

The sleeping thing is tough. I’m doing a temporary job that is nine to five (like the song), and I have to wake up at seven or so, and I am lying in bed staring into the darkness sad and alone till four something in the morning. I don’t drink coffee late, I try to not look at a computer or my phone for an hour before I try to sleep and I feel dog tired by midnight, but I’m awake for three or four more hours.

I like the longer bus ride. I like listening to more music and I have this chance to just sit and stare out the window and listen to music. I don’t have to pay attention to the stops because I get off at the last stop in NW Portland. I get up early and leave early to leave time to leisurely walk to the office.

Being on foot has allowed me to see funny things again. Monday I saw a shirtless guy riding his bike and ran into a pigeon with his bare chest. I laughed, but all the Pacific Northwest College of Art students were mortified – for the fucking rat bird! I also saw a lady cry because she was getting a ticket for illegally parking. She babbled about having to get a bunch of bagels (it was in front of Bowery Bagel), and that she wasn’t even gone long. She had snot coming out of her nose. The meter person kept on writing the ticket.

Monday I got to go to a pop-up dinner that my friend Rob Mendoza put on. I was sitting with a bunch of chefs and other industry heavies. It was a lot of fun. He had his 67-year-old Aunt help him by making corn tortillas and tamales while he took care of a seven course Mexican tasting dinner. He started with a Carrot chicharron, then a jicama with chamoy a fresh little turnip like root vegetable topped with a chutney, then he served the best mole sauce I ever had with his Aunt’s corn tortillas. He then served a rockfish and leche de tigre with cilantro, which this was my favorite dish of the evening. Then he served a tamale de entomatado de re that was interestingly served with beef tongue. I felt like he served us two desserts with a bowl of champurrado that was lightly dusted with corn tortilla and coconut cream, so basically a chocolate soup. The actual dessert was a beet and parsnip Bunuelo.

This was an extravagant and excellent dinner by a very talented and up and coming chef. I look forward to more pop ups by him. Pop ups are a great way to create a intimate understanding of how a chef works and learn the history and stories that go into creating these pieces of art.

Keep up to date with what Robert has next by going to his website and signing up for his email updates.

I know all these chefs that are doing these great and wonderful things and it has been great to watch them grow and create. Also, it has been nice to eat their food. I hope to write more about these pop-up dinners and other projects that these chefs are involved in.

I was so scared that only a few people was going to help me move, but about two dozen people or more ended up showing up and taking care of me. I felt so blessed to know all these people who were willing to help me move. We got it all done in under an hour. If you have to move, you should get cancer and then a surgery, and grips of people will show up to help you move.

Now I’m going to try and sleep. Last night I was walking down Cesar E Chavez Blvd. with a pillow under my arm and three different cars yelled at me to go to sleep. Hopefully the pillow will help the sleeplessness. I do miss sharing a bed with someone. I sleep better with someone because I know they’ll wake me up if things are going terribly wrong.

Now that I don’t have cancer anymore I don’t know really what to write about anymore. This has consumed me these last six months to the extent that I feel like I’ve had cancer for decades. I guess I just dust myself off and go live life? Do I hurry up and grow up to get in the years I missed being an idiot kid, or do I stay an idiot kid because I like being that way and growing up means dying?

Really I’m just going to do my thing and if it works out, fine. I’m going to make things. I’m going to try and be a better person to other people and not let anger and intolerance be my master. I’m going to walk places. I’m going to listen to beautiful music and read books. I’m going to watch baseball games.

Maybe sometime this summer I’ll be healthy enough to play softball. Maybe I’ll ride a bike to places. Maybe I’ll get a job I like or work somewhere with people I like. Maybe I’ll enjoy a sunny summer.

I still won’t like the 80s. I’ll still judge you for being a nostalgic asshole that won’t let go of a horrible decade.

Better get off the computer and try some of this sleeping that you normal people love doing.

Thanks to all the people that helped me get through this whole cancer/unemployment/break-up thing. It has been a cruel year, so here’s to a clean slate and new beginnings.

If you don’t know about my cancers or would like to read about my saga, here are the blogs in order:

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18