Two more people now have given me new and different books written by people with ALS. It appears that one of the changes in neurobiology associated with the progression of this disease is the insatiable desire to write books. I myself am now starting to feel like the problem with the world is that there is an acute lack of books. I can see my future unfolding now. I get home from a night at Barnes and Noble with my laptop and find myself saying “No, hunny, I was at the bar getting drunk with a bunch of lowlifes”, knowing full well that she knows better, and the feeling of guilt increasing. One thing that works in my favor is that it is a lot easier for a sober person who can’t walk straight to pass off being drunk than the other way around. I already have the look down pat. If you don’t mind mailing me your empty bottles of Jack, that would be great.
It actually has crossed my mind as to how I could turn my writing into something more coherent. Hopefully something enjoyable and useful. It does give you time for reflection and thought, without the distraction of feeling sick or having anything to battle. I could string together all my blog posts, Donald could string together all of his tweets, It’ll be great.
At the ALS clinic, they keep asking me a list of standard questions, one being “do you find yourself laughing at inappropriate things?”. Well, uh, hm, can you define that a little better?