Goodnight Chesty Puller

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I just got home from Birmingham for the second time today, the third time in two days. Mom had the generator on her pacemaker replaced. She’s very sore but is back home and should recover just fine.

I had a great chest and arm workout with Spud tonight. I really love him. He’s a good friend and sometimes I wish he were a few years older.

Did I tell you I can barely walk. It’s true; I can barely walk. I’ve been keeping it a secret from you because I don’t really want to think about it myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with my heel on the left foot. That’s the foot that was most affected by the nerve issues that lead to the spine surgery. The nerve issues that lead to the spine surgery had to do with my lower back problems which stemmed from my abdomen ripping open in Iraq. Fuck that war. Fuck war profiteers. Fuck this fucking ankle pain. I want to work out hard and often. It “clears my head gear” as we used to say in the Corps.

Speaking of the Marine Corps, I’ve been talking to one. That’s not really unusual, I often talk to Marines. I like to talk Marines. They seem to get me. Maybe Marines get each other better than other people do. Maybe I’m making that up. Anyway, this one is notable because I met him on one of those homo hook-up apps which apparently more and more homos are using not to hook up but to seek some more permanent and deep connection. Judge all you want. I think there’s definitely an upside to it. I could see myself marrying a Marine. At least we’d have a squared-away barracks… I mean home. And if we ever had kids, they’d be one disciplined group of little grunts. But then again I’m a peace activist now… and he’s learning to be a fighter pilot. How the hell is that going to work out?

I have to surrender this, along with the rest of my life, to God as I understand God… or more appropriately God as I don’t pretend to understand God.

This is a disjointed and crazy sounding blog. I am dead tired. I really just wanted to fall in my rack when I got home. “Rack.” God, I miss the Marine Corps sometimes. But I couldn’t go to bed without at least zipping out a short blog because I made the commitment to blog daily during this (what could be the final) year of my life. And I’m not going down without a fight.

Thanks for hanging in there with me. I wonder how many will be left by the end of the year. I see when you read my blog. And it means something to me.

Goodnight Chesty Puller… wherever you are.


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