flatblack

I was going to write a post about the Cramps show last night but that went out the window about halfway through their set. I hadn't been to Stubb's since Mike Blake's memorial service.

I ran into a friend of mine (again just about as nice of a guy as you are ever going to meet) who's into the rockabilly scene and everyone likes. He had a bout with cancer a few years back and he survived. He told me that he just found out last Monday that it's back. This time they don't give him much of a chance. He's not a candidate for some of the normal treatments. It's actually the same kind of cancer that killed my dog Guzzi. He seems to have a very health attitude about it. He feels like he wasn't even supposed to be alive now, so this is all extra time he's gotten. I've always admired him, but I do even more now. I could never deal with it so well. I'd probably start making a list of people I was going to take with me if I knew the end was near.

My journal entries are always trivial bits of news of no interest to anyone but myself or tragedies. sorry