I went to see Aung Marg in hospital on Saturday, and brought her a whole bunch of Jolly Ranchers and mints, cuz her throat is getting dry from the radiation or hospital air.
It was really good to see her. I dunno if it is all the morphine or the sense of mortality, but she was so honest with everything she said. She was always honest, but this was different. It was like she was relieved to be able to speak only of things that mattered.
And no matter how much you jog and juice, you, personally are going to die. Some day. Somehow. And it is a shame that that truth is not always in our heads. No, no, not in a morbid way. Just the knowledge that this moment *will* end, no matter how much it torments you or how much you try to perserve it. I know that, but I wish I knew it for more than 5 minutes at time. It must be so freeing to cut out the bullshit.
That night, I went and got drunk. I dunno if it was the aftermath of the oncology ward or the holiday fervor, but I had a great, drunken time. Everybody was loving each other.
On Sunday, when Julia came to meet me for brunch, she arrived all apple-cheeked and sparkly.
'I just had an epiphany," she said. "I was walking here, thinking of the million things that I had to get done before xmas, and then I saw this little old man on his front porch, taking out a wooden reindeer and these paper snowmen. He was all hunched over and moving sooo slowly. I think I need to slow down. Of course I'll probably forget about this in 20 minutes..."
Last night, instead of the filmcentre Xmas party, I stayed home, made dinner, talked with Adam about his play and made more collages out of 70's playboys and computer magazines.
You know, I used to confuse slowing down with inertia, but now I know they are not the same.