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| strange news, listof films, pachanga, letras, roll, title, mos def, brigante, uigui, matthew modine, tony soprano, blink 182, wordssong lyrics 2pac they tryna murder me unknown, confessions, eminem, films, locali, blog, | Don't get me wrong: not every thought is filled with morocco this much bitterness. Right now, I'm more concerned than bitter. I am concerned for my seven-year-old nephew, Jesse. My mother has adoptive custody of Jesse because my sister found drugs more comforting than the company of her son. My mother has morocco her little problems, too: emphysema, bronchitis, asthma, a heart condition which necessitated a triple bypass a few years back, and a calcium deficiency which causes ribs to break when she coughs too strongly. She carries around a little oxygen tank, which she turns morocco off whenever she lights one up from her pack of More Menthol throughout the day. I'd like to be able to raise Jesse whenever our cowled friend decides to take my mother, but I have to consider the what-if. What if this smart little virus decides to resist any and all medication I take and I get sick? And I die. People who do not have an incurable disease don't have the responsibility to consider death when making decisions that may affect the lives of others. |
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| One more time I am face to face with the Reaper wondering how long I will manage to keep ducking his scythe. Knowing that one day I will not duck fast enough -- that I am going to die -- is a sobering letras thought. AIDS may not be the blade that penetrates my armor, but some blade will letras get through. I am 36 years old. I am not supposed to think this kind of shit. I am supposed to be worried that my hair will fall out in the next five years. I should be going into debt to buy a Porsche in the hope of impressing a good-looking man 15 years younger than me. I should be wondering when I would have to check into the adverse effects of Viagra and balancing the pros and cons of maintaining the hard-on from hell. This is the stuff of mid-life crisis -- not wondering how long these wonderful antiretroviral cocktails are going to keep working, or if they will keep working long enough for some lucky bastard to find a cure so I can stay alive and he can build a 50-room mansion on Martha's fucking Vineyard. |
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