Can I erase my whiny, I’m-so-sick-and-sorry-for-myself entries from earlier this week?

Of course I can. It’s my blog. I’m god here. Same reason I can delete comments I don’t like. Freedom of speech? This ain’t your fuckin’ america, folks, there ain’t no constitution.

No fuckin’ rules.

And yet, I won’t delete ’em.

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I’m finally starting to feel human again (or subhuman, or inhuman, or super-human, or whatever normal would be), finally getting some work done. Now, my challenge is to resist the urge to act like I’m completely well and resume full-speed-ahead. That’s the mistake I usually make and the result tends to be a relapse, and a really bad respiratory infection that means ten days of horse pills.

So I have to ignore the voice that says back to the gym tomorrow unless I wake up no longer feeling like there’s a porcupine living in my sinuses.

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Now, I’m not gonna link to it because that just seems too fucking egotistical. But Buck, you literally made me cry, three times, while I was reading that birthday message. I kept trying to reply and it took me this long to be able to do it. Thank you. It takes a lot to get me to well up that way.

And thanks to the various people who sent me birthday gifts or thoughts or greetings or images. You people rule, every one. I’m not worthy.