This set is a good set. Its tough here and getting it out in chicken-scratch into my journal and then into actual script on here is a relieving and reliving and reassuring thing. It’s a form of washing away the yick, the yuck, and the ultimately f*&!ed up stuff that is seen and heard and done. Here and there. Its everywhere, this life, these lives, these and those people. We’re all in this together and you reading what I write gets a lot of hot air across a lot of space and that is healthy and wise and good. (see how much I’ve grown and humbled? Ha.)
It is important for the reader to know that by their action of reading, by their typing in the words: whenim65, even if just on a random account or a daily basis, you are participating. You are helping me to speak and be heard and hear and listen. It is not easy, your job, your duty, but you are doing it well.

Also, I apologize for the misspellings and the overuse of “;”s and for the run-ons.

I hope you know that I’m happy, I’m on a great path back to healthy, and When I’m 65 I’ll know that this was done and it was good and I did it. With your help. That will never be forgotten.

When I’m 65 I’ll love this; I’ll tell Fisher’s friends from college and life stories about the nipples and the dimples and the water rights and the tribal feathers and the Muslim burial rituals and the importance of white face amongst black and more importantly the knowledge and love to look past that to the glowing teeth in the happy smiles that your friends give you, to the eyes that wrinkle in the corners of a truly good story teller and of the hands that hold you through it all. Ryan will get us coffee as we, hand in hand, together, watch a sunset and another rise of the Rocky Mountains.

But, for now, right now I’m in it so you’ll have to excuse me.