Write On!

July 28, 2018

I sold a book today to a cab driver who used to work with Cerebral palsy people in Seattle.  It’s hard to sell a book to people with my speech impediment, but I do try.  I have to communication device, but it has it a three year process that doesn’t end. Like an electric wheelchair with technical problems every week.  I want to self-publish my new manuscript, but I can’t use my trust since I’m not allowed to make a profit.  The government won’t help me. My roommate slowly dies from cancer and I fight onward against the system that treats the disabled as statistics.  Why I’m still around?  Because I’m an author.  Last week I had a reading of my play.  Who does that?  Of course me!  I will make it someday.  The last word that I write will be my last breath.

Life and …

July 25, 2018

We take life for granted.  My roommate is dying.  The staff has to wake him up to eat a cup of pudding.  He screams in pain when he is changed.  He doesn’t talk or recognize the staff anymore.  No one visits him except for old care attendants.  He considers “the staff”  as family.  It’s painful to watch.  My heart goes out to him.  I don’t want that.  I’m going out every day now to savior life.  Sitting at my bar with my new friends, watching baseball and having a beer makes me happy.  An agent is interested in my new manuscript.  A play is submitted to a theater.  A part of me wanted to trade places with my roommate.  But I needed here.  There’s more books to write and publish.  And a girlfriend to find.  She is out there somewhere.  When my time comes, I want to spend a day with my sister and nieces.  Then I want to go somewhere with my cousin for a week.  One last great adventure like the Grand Canyon.  My last few days will be spent up north with my best friends.  If I don’t have a girlfriend, I want to have my best friend, Amber to hold my hand when I take my last breath.  If I become a vegetable, please put me out of my pain. These are the author’s last wishes.

Carpe diem, vita brevis

July 10, 2018

Three years ago my mother passed away on Thursday.  It still hurts.  The bond with my mother is strong and it will ever be.  I can laugh now doing things unimaginable with my life.  Like going to Boston in the fall to see the Packers, flying for the first time, hopefully producing a play, and publishing another book. I’m living life to the fullest.  My know-it-all cousin visited me this weekend, trying to tell me what to do like he always does.  Of course, I didn’t listen to his writing advice which I will never.  I have writers for that. He is stubborn, but he dearly loves me.  He was surprised that I was just arrived home from the farmer’s market with a week of fresh vegetables.  Just like Mom used to do.  He asked who went with me.  “Myself,” I said. Life is so good now, but it is a lot of work.

My roommate has cancer and needs a new liver.  He sleeps all of the time and doesn’t eat much.  He is confused and weak.  His declining health reminds me of Mom.  Life is short and precious.  The hard part is seeing my artistic roommate, who is very attached to my roommate but he doesn’t understand what is going on.  He is innocent and happy.  His life is about what he is eating and what is staff ate.

Last week I Googled authors with Cerebral palsy.  There are only five of us in the world and three are dead.  I’m number one on the list.  My cousin can shut up.  That’s impossible.  The author has many more books to write and someday I will be known.