Even a doctor friend reached out to congratulate me on my luck yesterday. Such is the underlying power of chemistry. The central science bonds us all.
I half-joke when I discuss pharmaceutical drugs. I am as harmless as a box of kittens, a busload full of nuns, etc. I only ingest the medicine that my doctor demands of me, and always under the strict supervision of the printed advisory on the bottle. I have installed a special camera in my room to carefully monitor intake. Each morning I review the previous night, frame by frame, to ensure that there are no discrepancies.
If any of you knew the daily and nightly horrors that I endure just to make this site possible then you would not question the wisdom of my doctor and pharmacist, who appear to finally be working in concert to address my condition. I suffer from mild acuteness.
It can strike at any time. One must always be prepared. From this rises the paradox of poetic nerves, or so I would like to believe anyway.
It is the closest thing I have to occasional faith.
Ah well, it is all just a joke. It is part of my irreverence series. I am trying to touch on any and all subjects that deserve it, in which people might have wished that I didn't.
I want that to be the way that people remember me, in precious wishes.
I was going to link "Careless Whispers" to the phrase "precious wishes" but I couldn't do it.
I'll leave you this instead: