I thought about sitting here at this computer in the bowels of the Stanford Medical Center and talking smack as I usually do. I came into this sterile building sassy, full of caffeine and ready to do such a thing. I'd planned on drawing attention to all of the bullsh*t posturing I see all around me. I wanted to focus on the colorful personalities that surround me. I wanted to mock a bit, but then to also get some sort of view of the reckoning with thanatos that a lot of people around me are going through. I didn't realize that I would see so much futility and hopelessness in the countless eyes I have scrutinized today. The depression here is thick. Tar pit thick. The moments that I have had with these people have been grim. We are all contemplating mortality in our own ways.
I had planned to talk about what a good sport my father is as they bleed him dry and push saline solution through his open veins. I wanted to write a blog that would show you people what a badass my old man is. How he is staring down the barrel of the cancer cannon and he is stronger in some ways than I have ever seen him.
I wanted to elaborate on all of those points...and more, but I won't.
This place is f*cking depressing.