Death in the family

A good friend of mine has a father who is dying of cancer. More exactly he's bleeding to death.
An ulcer in his upper intestinal track is making him bleed out. Without the transfusions he'd just slip away.
I called and texted him inviting him out for a beer, something, anything to help take his mind off what's going on and what he's dealing with. If at least for an hour or so. Give his emotions time to recharge.

My friend is handling it very well. The closest experience I've had that helps me relate is the death of my Uncle. He passed away around the same time my father in law did.
My Wife took the girls to New Orleans to be with her father and I went to Orlando to attend my Uncles funeral.
So, I kind of have an idea of what he's going through. I'm lucky I guess. I still have my Dad around. I should call him tomorrow and say hi.

Now my friend is going there. Where childhood emotions, memories, expectations and guilt all seem to take over. I remember whens, and he could have still done this, and God why didn't I do that's. Yeah, I'll call my Dad and say hello.

A new friend of mine says that the hardest part isn't now. Not what you're doing now, dealing with death, the funeral, cleaning up. That's all numbed by shock.
He says that the hardest part will come a year from now when you're sitting at home and say, "ah, lets go visit Dad"........and then remember that you can't.

He's so right.

I've fallen out of love with William Gibson.
What is it about combinations of words that make beautiful sounds but have no meaning? A homeless man I knew a few years ago sold ballpoint pens out of a white pickel bucket in front of my restaurant. He'd be out there every afternoon, hours at a time, for months. Then one day he stopped.

One of the other cooks said he'd been arrested for grabbing a woman. Weeks later, late for work, I saw him across the street. He was screaming something to the trees that line Main Street. He was naked except for his Salvation Army boots and grey underwear. I watched him for a minute, just long enough to make sure it was the pen man. The cops rushed him with pepper spray then dragged him away. I never bought one of his pens. I bought Spook Country and would have been better off with a pen.

I finished Idoru months ago, followed by All Tomorrow's Parties, Pattern Recognition and Spook Country a couple weeks ago and thought I'd missed something. Reviews of his latest works are always great. Sure his style is cool, hip, and catchy but so is Starbucks and I fucking hate Starbucks.
To say I'm a cyberpunk fanboy is not a stretch but I just don't get it anymore. Maybe I'm getting old. Sure there's some great writing, I like the way his work is organized. Good grammer and all. These last few books, they're great sounding words.
Like the old man in his underwear screaming at the trees.