I have a morbid habit, which I sometimes indulge. I read the blogs of people with cancer.
These abound on the internet. More often than not, I come across pointers to such blogs in other places, in other contexts, but I will take a moment to add the pointer to a little pile (file) of links I have of "cancer blogs." Then, sometimes, when the mood strikes or I'm feeling mortal or hypochondriac or unlucky, I will read one.
Many people seem to take the decision to start blog, upon learning they have cancer.
I was different only in that I long ago started my blog as a coping mechanism to deal with different, unrelated issues (stepping away from my hermetic life and trying to document my efforts to jump-start my career).
Perhaps I'm a bit different too, in that, since I was blogging before the cancer, now that I'm basically past it successfully (fingers crossed and knock on wood and all that), I continue blogging reliably – many "cancer" blogs "die" not just when their authors die, but also when their authors fail to die, but instead just get on with life.
Recently a blog I've visited a few times (a linguist and thus someone whose non-cancer writings also had at least some appeal for me) announced the death of its author after a fairly short (6 month) battle.
There, now I'm not feeling unlucky anymore.
What I'm listening to right now.
Andy Williams, "House of Bamboo."
Lyrics.
Number fifty-four,
The house with the bamboo door,
Bamboo roof and bamboo walls,
They've even got a bamboo floor!
You must get to know – Soho Joe,
He runs an Expresso,
Called the House of Bamboo.
It's a made of sticks.
Sticks and bricks,
But you can get your kicks
In the house of bamboo.
In this casino, you can drink a chino,
And it's gotcha swingin' to the cha cha
Dance the bolero in a sombrero.
Shake – like a snake!
You wanna drop in when the cats are hoppin'.
Let your two feet move a to the big beat;
Pick yourself a kitten and listen to a platter
That rocks – the juke-box!
I'm a telling you, when you're blue,
Well there's a lot to do
In the House Of Bamboo.
You must get to know – Soho Joe,
He runs an Expresso,
Called the House of Bamboo.
In this casino, you can drink a chino,
Let your two feet move-a to the big beat;
Pick yourself a kitten and listen to a platter
That rocks
I'm a telling you, when you're blue,
Well there's a lot to do
In the House Of Bamboo.
Number fifty-four,
The house with the bamboo door,
Bamboo roof and bamboo walls,
They've even got a bamboo floor!
In the House Of Bamboo.
[daily log: walking, 6 km]