Fractured Skull

It just keeps getting better. Mum reminded me, via email, that in addition to my concussion i had a fractured skull! O joy, O Rapture! It's almost like she's more proud, the more of a beating i took. Fuck that! I would much rather there not be an attempt on my life every decade than be considered a tough guy.

Does it make a difference that it's a fractured skull? I don't know. It certainly doesn't make me feel any better. I'll have to ask doctor Gomez. He'll probably be like, Holy Shit. You're still alive! The surprises never end.

Is the US government trying to kill me? That was one of the reasons i came to Europe. But out here? Outside a bar after a gig? Although it seems CIA, because i should have been easy enough to kill. Unarmed and unaware.


All i remember is fighting them off and the distant memory of hearing bones break as i defended myself. I think i broke one dude's arm. Word to the wise; if you are ever attacked and alone, and there's no chance for debate; FIGHT TO KILL. It just may have saved my life.

Then i burst into the bar and some friends said, you're bleeding! Then they called the ambulance and i don't recall the rest.

Why i seem to refuse to die, i don't know. Am i here for some special purpose? That seems highly fucking unlikely.

Why i am so resilient and believe that anything is attainable if you are willing to pay the price? I think that when your father leaves you when you are 4 because he is a chicken shit about how sick you might be and doesn't want to deal, you either fold up your tent or become a bad ass. I'm not sure i succeeded, but i chose the second option. Maybe this is another reason i feel so comfortable alone even though i am an extrovert. You have a lot of time to think when you are a sick little kid who misses a lot of school. Ironic, but lucky, that i am so healthy in my 40's.