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And I haven't been.
Eight days ago I saw the end of this.
Like an explorer falling a sleep in a snow storm the fatigue started to get me.
My teeth hurt, I was falling asleep in the train, then I found a thriller.
I was taken in my sleepy couch potato slouch when  in the first quarter of the 'The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo'  by Steig Larsson, one of the two protagonists, Salander,  sets out the boundaries of her personal and professional relationship with her employer Armansky,  who is in awe, confused and attracted to her.


The book is behind me now and I have one, yes one-only radiation treatment to go.  No more strappers, no more aching thigh.  The late afternoon crash, the 10%-flue that has chased me through the days will be history.  Like last Saturday, I can recover my vitality.


I'm looking forward to a Thallium and CT scan on the 29th August, then an appointment with the surgeon on the 31st.  I'm eager to know when the Potato is to be removed.  I want to finish Paul Kelly's omnibus of stories titled, How to Make Gravy. I'm grateful to the song writers, the poets and followers who have watched me through this process.  I am in general, really really grateful.  Thank you.


Now is the time to let the light shine on my poem from the past,

Who are you in your long white beard,
"Come to beard me",
Come to tell me my romance is dead?
Trotted in have you with your fine white lance,
What in God's name do you hope to do with that?
Don't you know my fine feathered friend,
I have died by your lance a hundred times and still I rise to the occasion.
So put your lance away and raise your spirits high,
Because your only true language is that of love.
Communicate my friend.
What planet are you from?
What have you to say to this old skeleton?
What gifts have you to share with your host?
What respect will you show to the path that you have found,
And will you investigate it's source?
Will you see beyond your dreams?
Will you dare to come near me?
Will you risk your flesh melting from your dreamy bones?
Come to me my child, tell me about your new found love.
Tell me you have found some hope in the beauty of women.
Tell me where your dreams want to take you.
Let me remind you that you travel the same dusty track,
That my bare feet have seared and sealed with pain.
Place your bets my son,
You only have your mind to save you,
Whereas my sex is part of the course.
I do not promote myself.
My death is laced into your dreams.
I am part of your illusion,
The bit you forgot on waking.
I am the water in your whiskey,
I can dilute your spirit.
I stink of sex,
I glow with spirit,
I will not be forgotten.
So give, give me what you hold in your heart.
Do not fear, that which is true will not burn in my company.
Show me your kind words,
Save my soul if you can, but do not deny me,
Some day you will have to face me.
You may be able to kill me,
But you may have already,
And still I stink of the stench of death,
And still I nourish the degenerate Earth.
Put your hands toward my rich soul,
Get me under your fingernails,
For if you don't I shall never again come near you and you shall always wonder,
And what wistful thoughts shall bear seeds of suspicion and doubt.
So do it now if you dare.
Do me the honor of taking me on.
I can but only die...