August 23rd, 2009

Screw cancer

Our good friend got discharged from the hospital on Friday to hospice. There was nothing more they could do. It doesn't seem that long ago that he was telling me it was a "good" kind of cancer to have, with a 90% cure rate. And he was in such good shape and took such good care of himself, surely he would be in that 90%.

He was home 24 hours and died surrounded by friends. We weren't there, except in spirit.

Rest in peace, Art. You were irreplaceable.

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Do you think this is promising?

A future book. Called "Finish Her Off."

It would start with a girl waking up bruised and bloody, lying on the ground. Two men are standing over her, talking about her. One says, "She doesn't know anything. Finish her off." And leaves.

She manages to escape before she can be killed. But she doesn't know who she is or what they wanted to know. (And at this point, I have no idea either.) So she has to figure it all out.

I told Teen my idea, and she said, "Too many ideas and not enough writing. Get to work!"

She might have a point.

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