Brother From Another Planet

I made a big pot of soup yesterday. I also drew some cartoons, edited a home movie, had some 'domestic adventures' (i.e. did chores) and watched Ella's birth video all over again. I'm not really a cryer. Some people cry. Not me. When I get overwhelmed with strong emotion, I do this other thing that resembles a bark/dry heave/moan. I never get tears, though. I must be, in fact, from another planet. A planet where no one cries. I don't feel especially inhibited, but maybe I am.

Anyway, that birth video really shakes me up every time. I cannot pinpoint the emotion it evokes, exactly. It's somewhat mysterious. I guess it's one of those religious peak experiences that transcends the usual distinctions between feelings like exuberance, awe, marvel, wonderment, compassion, relief, love, and so on. I've told people in the past that seeing Eleanor come into this world was like being hit on the head with a 12 lb. sledgehammer made of pressed rose petals. That's weird.

If our dog Stella has cancer, I will be very, very sad. I might even cry. Our trip to the vet yesterday was not a happy one. They found another lump on her - this time on her neck. It was hidden amidst her fluffy coat. And so anyway they shaved her and took a cell sample from the lump, which has to be be sent to some far-off lab for analysis. That's two lumps now. The other one is in her mouth. We're scheduled to have her anesthetised next week so they can biopsy that one. Jesus Christ.

I fucking hate cancer. It's been all around me my whole life. When I was a kid, my best friend's mom died young from cancer. It traumatized him pretty bad. He's strung out on meth now. And my other best friend was a cancer survivor, too. He had brain surgery and did okay for the most part. Except he had a problem controlling his impulses and grew up to become an outlaw of some kind. My little niece also had brain surgery. She's no outlaw, though. In fact, she's a really cool kid that says hilarious things all the time and has fallen in love with Eleanor. My mom's mom died of cancer, though. In fact, a number of other people in our family have died of cancer. Perhaps I will die of cancer as well.

Unh. It's a real downer speculating one's form of death at 11:17 a.m., when one should be figuring out how to apply for food stamps and maybe even getting some real writing done. So let me pull the plug on this uplifting entry. Today Stella and I will go for a long hike in the woods. I'll wear my orange safety vest so as not to get shot at, and together we'll both enjoy our tenuous stake on the heartbreaking beauty of existence.