2005-11-24 - 1:24 a.m.
I have a DVD full of a lot of the mp3's I had before we upgraded this computer to XP. I didn't test the DVD before we upgraded, though, and something corrupted. And, naturally, I lost the originals. By lost I probably mean deleted, but I don't remember for certain.
I managed to get some of the songs off the disk, but any time I went into the folder with the majority of my mp3's my shit freezes. Finally, today, it occurred to me to try to copy from dos, and that got a lot more.
I often fear that some of the best things I do, I do with indifference. It seems that it's when I care that things go to hell.
I don't have tb, or so says the test, so that's good. One more thing we know I don't have. And the antibiotics seem to be helping quite a bit, my chest is more clear, my sinuses. I could probably still lose a barfight to a kitten, I get dizzy for reasons I don't understand, and I'm tired a lot. But I'm not dead. Roy, now he's dead.
Roy was this very cool guy who lived where I work. He suffered from dementia*, once fell out of bed looking for the puppy he thought was under it. He had an STD which he'd gotten at the age of something like 70, caught from an appreciative hitchhiker. He was ambulatory, walking around the facility every day right around three o'clock or so with a cane, making his rounds. Talking with everyone too loudly in his drawl that I can't name, a smile on his face, usually still in pajamas.
Lupe is also dead. Lupe was always hungry. Just ask her how she is, she'd tell you, "Hungry," even though you can see she ate recently by the food stains on her shirt. Lupe would get mad at me early on, because she would say to me (or to anyone) "Take me over there" and I'd ask "Over where?" "Over there," she'd say, not bothering to indicate where "there" was. "Over where?" I'd ask again, because I fuck with EVERYONE. Eventually she'd laugh at me when I asked again, and finally she'd started to give me directions on where she wanted to go. Usually it was, "Near to the door." I'd walk down the hall, and Lupe would shout at me "I love you!" Which sounds endearing, but she might very well do the same to you. If she meant it (or so I like to think, since she said it to me) she'd sometimes add "Un chingo de chingaderas." As I've had it defined to me, that's the equivilant of "a whole fucking lot."
I've heard a lot of people say that they've had friends die. Car accidents, suicide, general stupidity and disease teach many people lessons about loss early. The only peer I can remember who died took her own life, and I have to say I wasn't fond of her anyway, in no small part due to the fact that I strongly suspect she was fucking my then girlfriend. Most of my lessons in death and dying come from the fact that, as long as I can remember, my mother has worked in a skilled nursing facility. A lot of my childhood friends died early in the relationship, but that was to be expected. They were fucking old.
So, to you Darryl. And you Roy, and you Lupe, and you too Coyote. Here's to hoping Saint Peter was taking a piss when you got to the gates..
(* - Spelling corrected 1-15-06)
