Why talk intelligently when I can simply waste a blob of white space on using the word tumour to riff on movie titles?
Tumour with Love
Tumours of Endearment
The Tumour Strikes Back
I Know What My Tumour Did Last Summer
The Tumour Games
Lord of the Tumours : The Fellowship of the Sting
Eddie and the Tumours
The Tumour Saga : Breaking Down Part 1
The Fast and the Tumorous
Masters of the Tumourverse
Oh, have you seen TV’s The Tumours? with Jonathan Rhys-Meyers
Thanks for the comments and emails of late, appreciate it.
Still waiting for Alicia Silverstone, Mary Elizabeth Winstead and all of the Mighty Ducks to write in though.
So what’s the latest?
I’m back on deck! (Bad gags and all!) Complete with the entire “Honey, I Shrunk” series! Some protein bars! And a really average internet connection!
I’m still leaning on a few shoulders, still throwing my guts up from time-to-time, still have the odd ache and pain (they’re not going anytime soon, apparently), still having the odd nightmare (and by odd, I mean odd! they usually concern being forced into watching “Strawberry Shortcake and the nutty nymphette from canabisville” for the millionth time!), still wiped out and woozy, and still being constantly reminded by my doctors that “you know, you’ll never be the same after the damage that was done to your pancreatic region over the past couple of months” and “Oh, probably no more travelling for you”- which is a lovely thing to have drilled into your head over and over again – but as I see it, I’m now a prime candidate for a job with either X-Men’s second class or the reject Avengers. Yup, Iron Groin (or The Incredible Shrinking Man- – he was one of ’em, right?!)
I know it sounds discouraging, shit I know it’s not ‘great’, but hey? I’m the Jean-Claude Van Damme of the online publishing community, and what Universal Soldier gives in and gives up without a fight!? None of ’em!
What you can do is accept your physical and emotional scars and crawl into a ball and hide from any possible threat or you can take to the field like Katniss in ”The Hunger Games” and, wounds aside, keep swinging back the string on that bow-and-arrow. Kapow!
Yes, the first half of 2012 has sucked worse than a two-buck hooker out the back of the Palais – but life happens, sometimes. Sure, on New Year’s Eve, I didn’t see any of this happening – in fact, I remember thinking ‘this is going to be a good year. things have fallen into place for everyone. I’m surrounded by people with smiles on their faces (and cheezel dust on their shirts). What could go awry!?” Well, seems March had other plans. Me and March are no longer speaking. Never again March. You don’t show your face around here March after what you did to me. Run home to Feb, March.
I felt like I was trapped in an episode of say, ”Brothers & Sisters” or ”Desperate Housewives” – in one season we’ve had grave illnesses, treachery, a damaged career, the deepest of sleeps, the special appearance by William Devane, and at the end of the season, a cliff-hanger that left folks wondering whether the central character would be back next year. I was ready to cancel that offering (much like the two shows I just compared my life too – yep, both gone).
So, what now?
That first half of 2012 I have to get rid of. That is decided. I have to block. rewind. erase. Pretend it never happened. Reboot (I sound like a damn transformer with a dog-chewed left leg and damaged middle where he was dropped by someone, don’t I!?). Any reminder of the past few months – from a scrap bit of paper with a specialists number on it to a photo of one of the few that didn’t come see me during this time (like you,Bert! Shit, both of you! Ernie and Bert!) – any memory, any reflecting, any fear and distrust, any half-drunk cans of sugarless Mother… have to be gone… gone I tell ya. After all, what good is dwelling, reliving, remaining anxious about events or people, or keeping doctors bills (for any reason other than Tax purposes- though looks like my bills may be behind me, yay for that at least) and size large shirts. It’s a block of life, a chapter of shite, a depressing few months I’m glad to put behind me. I’ve put my boots on, brushed the hair, limped to the sandy steps of the canyon and yelled out ‘No more!… you great big empty hollow hole of…. canyon dust.. and, er, stuff”.
As I said previously, the whole experience of the tumour and what followed changed me, I think- I seem to be tougher, more appreciative of things, savvier and more wary, more energetic and thankful and much more optimistic about the future. I also don’t hate the “Star Wars” prequels as much as I did. Or Renee Zellwe…Okay, yeah still don’t like her. Beyatch.
But giggles aside, I get to concentrate on the second-chance recovery phase, surrounded by the kind of positive, helpful, caring people you’ll only see in a “New Girl” episode – with Zooey sitting right in my lap!
I’ve already made moves to replace the first 6 months or so of 2012 with something much more positive and less distressing – I’m making the transition into management, for one. I’m running a company that’s going to specialise in publicity and publishing (Moviehole will be playing a big part of all that) and better still, working with some of the best fish in the aquarium (yes Mandy, I just called you a fish – I apologise. But you’re a ‘star fish’, so that’s Okay, yes!?). The difference between this venture and the work I’ve done in the past is that I’m the chief and not the slave, so I no longer have to file my own nails or, for that matter, write all the stories or handle all the client’s needs. I’m simply.. in charge. Overseeing the great big ocean like Roy Scheider in “Jaws” I am.
And there’s some exciting things we’re pursuing through OctoberCoast – that’s the name of our inner-city based outfit – including new print titles, some local and offshore features we’re handling the marketing for (one of them is a terrific new film titled “The Terror Within”, and involves a rather frightening situation where the department of homeland security overlooked a major security breach a few years back), some television and radio ventures, new media stuff, and some exciting music and concert work. But enough of the boring bizzy talk… I’m lucky to have people carrying the operation for me while I continue to be fitted by OCP into my new hard-as-steel comeback costume (Officer Lewis will be glad to hear that! Big hello to her!).
I haven’t watched many films or TV shows for quite some time – though I did get a chance to see “Get the Gringo” with Howling Mad ‘Mel’ Gibson and “The Avengers”, which I think I’ve already mentioned. I’m simply too exhausted and not intrigued enough to sit through much at the moment… but with “Prometheus” around the corner, I’m thinking that will change. And quick. I had been hoping to attend “Men in Black III” tomorrow but I’m having an off-colour couple of days, and it’s going to be a bit of an effort getting to it, so the talking pooch will have to wait. In all seriousness, I’ve actually started enjoying to read – and no, not just contracts and paper work for the new company but real, bonafide books (No Brooke, THIS ONE WASN’T BESIDE MY BED BECAUSE I WAS READING IT!).
Here’s a tip for anyone out there that’s been gravely ill or experienced any of the Biff Tannen-esque truckload of crap I’ve had to endure in recent months – make a list of your favourite ‘feel good’ things, be it movies, a band, a brand of margarine, a swimsuit model… locate some piccies of them, collage them up, and take a look at that pic every time you get a stabbing pain or start thinking about something not so pleasant. Believe me, it works!
No wait, sorry, that’s Ryan Seacrest’s!
Also, big thanks to the gang at Crikey for feeling I was a fine enough subject to be interviewed recently. Here’s that chat (and yes, I realize now that “Spy Hard” came out in 1996; blame it on a) a tumour b) brain damage or c) a giggly, all-too-eager intern at Crikey who covertly slipped a Leslie Nielsen mention into an article to make her look good.)
My final question : Why oh why old wise Jason Bateman did you not tell me what lay ahead when we met last year in the foyer of the Crown Tower hotel? I’ll never trust a Teen Wolf again, man.
Patient Zero Out.