The only woman here at Remaining Men Together with this,
support group of patients with testicular cancer,
this woman succumbs to the weight of an unknown and his eyes
intersect with mine.
cheaters. Cheater. Cheater.
matte black short hair, large eyes like those of
Japanese cartoons, as thin as gauze, milky
in her dress with a pattern of dark roses as
upholstery, this woman was also in my tuberculosis support group
on Friday night.
was my melanoma round table Wednesday night.
Monday night was to my group of leukemic Fermi
Believers. The hair is parted in the middle of a lightning retort
of white skin.
To see these support groups, all have names
approximate and encouraging. My group on the evening of Thursday
blood parasites called Free and Clean
.
The group that I participate on parasites of the brain called
Above and Beyond. And on Sunday afternoon
Keep the men together in the basement of Trinity Episcopal
, this woman is
here again.
Worse yet, I can not cry with her watching.
This should be my favorite part, ab-
strokes crying with Big Bob without hope.
all work hard all the time. This is the only place where
I really can let go.
This is my vacation.
I went to my first support group
two years ago after I returned from my doctor for insomnia.
Three weeks without sleep.
three weeks without sleep and everything becomes an OBE. The
my doctor said: "Insomnia is just a symptom of something
more important. Discover what
that really works. Listen to your body. "
I just wanted to sleep. I wanted small cups of blue
Amytal Sodium, those two hundred milligrams.
I wanted those little red and blue bullets Tuinal, Seconal
red lipstick.
My doctor told me to chew the roots of valerian
and take more exercise. Sooner or later I would be asleep. From
so old that I was bruised fruit cascade
my face would have given up for dead.
My doctor said if I wanted to see real pain
I had to pay a visit to First Eucharist
on Tuesday evening. Look at the parasites in the brain. Take a look
diseases degenerative diseases of the bones. To organic brain dysfunction
. Take a look at how
get by cancer patients.
So I went.
the first group where I went, there were
presentations. This is Alice, this is Brenda, this is
Dover. Everyone smiles with that invisible gun to his head
. I never give my real name
support groups. What
skeleton of a woman named Chloe,
one with the seat of the trousers that hung
dejected and empty, Chloe tells me that the worst of its parasites
brain is that nobody wants to have sex with her.
was so close to death that his insurance the
had paid the life insurance policy with
seventy-five thousand dollars and all he wanted was a
slammed one last time. No effusions, only sex.
What does a man? What can you say, that is.
All this agony began with Chloe a bit 'tired
and now Chloe was too bored to undergo
to therapy. Pornographic movies, pornographic films had
home.
During the French Revolution, told me
Chloe, women in prison closed, duchesses, baronesses,
Marquis, what were you fucked any
mount, man on them. Chloe
I breathed on my neck. Climb above. Releases, as saying. Saddle ago
pass time.
La petite mort, the French called.
Chloe had pornographic movies, if I was interested.
patches or ointments. Lubricants.
Normally I would have had an erection. Our
But Chloe is a skeleton dipped in yellow wax. By Chloe
tanned so, I am nothing. Less
nothing. Yet Chloe pushes me shoulder to shoulder
when we sit in a circle on the carpet.
close your eyes. Chloe was up to lead us in guided meditation
and she has carried into the garden of serenity. Chloe
guided us up the slope to the palace of seven doors
. Inside the palace there were seven doors, the door
green, the yellow door, the orange door, and Chloe
has led to the opening of each, the blue door, the door
red, the white door, to find what was inside.
With eyes closed
we imagined our pain as a ball of healing white light that enveloped
feet and went up to the knees, waist, chest
. The opening of our chakras. The heart chakra. The
chakra of the head. Chloe has led us into caves where we met the animal
of our strength. Mine was a penguin
.
There was ice to cover the bottom of the cave and the penguin
said slips. We slipped effortlessly
for tunnels and galleries.
Then it was time to embrace.
Open eyes. This was
therapeutic physical contact, she said.
all had to choosing a partner. Chloe has jumped
me around the head to cry. He had no
lingerie straps at home and cried. Chloe had oils and
handcuffs and cried while I watched the second hand of my watch to make
eleven laps.
So I did not cry at my first support group,
two years ago. I did not cry even
my second or third in my support group. I did not cry
the group of blood parasites or tumors
visceral or organic brain dementia.
So it goes with insomnia. Everything is so far away
a copy of a copy of a copy. Insomnia
distances you from everything, you can not touch anything and nothing can touch you
.
Then there was Bob. The first time I went to
those of testicular cancer, the moose good Bob, Bob the
mollaccione, I melted into tears on the
Men Stay Together. When it was time to embrace, good
the moose crossed the room by a
side to side, arms at your sides, shoulders rounded. His
Bazza from moose to his chest, his eyes squeezed
already in tears. Crawling the foot, invisible
steps with her knees together, Bob
has slipped to the basement and came to hoist himself up me. Bob sfrittellato
I was wearing.
Major Bob's arms surrounded me.
Big Bob was a doped, he said. Days and days of tangled
steroid Dianabol and then the horse, the
Wistrol. A gym's, Big Bob was a master
gym. He had been married three times. He had
sales promotions and maybe I had seen him on TV,
or not? The program on how to increase the volume of
his chest was practically his invention.
Strangers with this kind of honesty I boned, if
m'intendete.
Bob m'intendeva. Perhaps he had only dropped one of his huevos
and knew that this was a risk factor.
Bob told me of postoperative hormone therapy.
A lot of bodybuilders who exaggerate with testosterone
become what they call growing tits.
I had to ask him what he meant by huevos.
Huevos, Bob said. Gonads. Brown. Jewels. Attributes.
balls. In Mexico, where you go to buy steroids,
call them "eggs."
Divorce, divorce, divorce, and Bob told me
shown the photo he kept in his wallet where he was huge and at first glance
naked, posing in some contest.
is a stupid way to live, Bob said, but
when you're pumped and shaved on the mat, the layer of body fat
reduced to two percent and that diuretics
touch make you feel cold and hard as granite,
six blinded by the lights and deafened by the background music
until the court orders: "Extend the right quadriceps
, flex and remains so."
"Extend your left arm, flex the biceps and remains so."
is better than real life.
the fast lane, said Bob, to cancer. Then
bankruptcy. He had two older children who do not respond to his calls
.
According to the doctor caring for the tits
was cut under the chest and drain all the liquid possible.
This is what I remember Bob because then I ended
all around with his arms and his head is me
folded over to cover me. Then I got lost in oblivion, dark and silent
and absolute, and when I finally
away from his soft chest, his shirt was wet
a form of expression that I assume
when I cry.
This was two years ago, my first evening with the Men
Stay Together.
At almost every meeting after that Big Bob
made me cry.
have never returned to the doctor. I never chewed
valerian root.
This was freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.
If you do not say anything, people in the group
assumed the worst. They cried harder.
I cry harder. Look up the stars and go.
way home on foot after a support group
I felt more alive than ever. I was not host to cancer or blood parasites
and I was the little warm center
aggrappolava around which the life of the world.
asleep. So do not sleep well even infants.
Every evening I died and every night was born.
Risen.
Until this evening, two years of success
until this evening because I can not cry with this woman who looks at me
. Why can not I hit rock bottom, I can not be redeemed
. I Morsico inside the mouth at this point that my language
thinks he has a tapestry
rough. They have not slept for four days.
With her looking at me, I am a liar. She is a fraud
. The liar is you.
presentations this evening we presented, I am Bob, I'm
Paul, I'm Terry, I'm David.
I never give my real name.
"This is cancer, right?" He asked.
Then he said: 'Well, hello, I'm Marla Singer. "
Nobody ever told Marla what kind of cancer.
Then we set all to do to pamper our inner child.
He still cries about his neck. I look
Marla between one and the other tit flickering
Bob.
To Marla I'm an imposter. From the second time I saw
not sleep anymore. However, the
first con was not me, unless all these people
not pretend with their lesions and their coughs and their
tumors, even Big Bob, the moose good. The mollaccione.
Look at those who sculpted hair. Now
Marla looks up.
At this time the lie of Marla
reflects my lie and I do not see nothing but lies.
In the midst of all their truth. All that shaking and
dared to share their worst fear, that is bearing down on him
's death and having a rod
gun pressed against his neck. Be ', Marla
raises his eyes to the ceiling and here I am buried under a carpet and suddenly sobbing
even death and the agony
reduction to the rank of importance without boundary.
"Bob" I say, "I crush it." I try to whisper, then
I do not. "Bob." I try to keep your voice down, but I'm calling
. "Bob, I have to go to the toilet."
Is there a mirror hanging above the sink in the bathroom.
If the pattern holds, I'll see Marla Singer's car
Above and Beyond, the group of brain dysfunction. Marla
will be there. Of course that Marla will be there and what I will be
sit next to her. And after the introductions and
guided meditation, the seven gates of the palace, the white healing ball of light
, after we opened our
chakra, when it's time to embrace, take hold of the
slut.
Her arms wrapped tight against his hips and
crushed my lips against his ear, I will say: Marla,
set that you are nothing, go away.
This is the only true thing in my life and you are sending the
to hell. Tourists
that you are nothing.
The next time we meet, I'll tell you: Marla,
can not sleep with you here. I need it. Go away.
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