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I got a bit of a lie-in this morning and was too late to ring the doctor, but I did feel a bit better first thing. And then a bit worse later. Because my body is once again determined to kill me and knows that if I feel all right at 8am then the inefficiencies of the NHS will mean I can't be treated. I don't know why my body hates me so much, just because I have abused it with bad food, alcohol and self. For me my body is my favourite bit about me. The thing that I am not looking forward to about dying is existing for the rest of eternity without it and just my stupid soul for company. I hate my soul. It's so boring. Also I am confused about how you see stuff once you're dead if you have no eyes. And if you can just magically see anyway then is it 360 degree vision which would take some getting used to? And if you have no eyelids (and they'd have to be 360 degree ones now anyway) then can you ever close your eyes and stop looking at stuff or just have a rest?
Of course if we live for infinity in Heaven then our finite lives are mathematically meaningless. What percentage of infinity is 80 years? 0%. So this bit isn't even happening.
I had a nice chat with George Egg about his beautiful and brilliant cook book
The Snack Hacker this morning (there's some cracking and inventive and anarchic recipes in there). The autobiographical sections of the book reminded me of my idea to write my own life story based on jacket potatoes. I had this idea on a dog walk as I dealt with the after effects of chemo (admittedly very light, but they did make me hallucinate a bit and also see the world as bits of data) and it seemed like genius under the haze of cancer and immune system destroying chemicals. Jacket potatoes have played a vital role in my life though and I have a jacket potato named after me - which may be my only lasting legacy.
In the afternoon I got my hair cut by a gay man (and I am glad that the hairdressing industry has finally opened it's doors to the LGBTQ community) from South America who asked me if I believed in God. I told him I didn't and he said he didn't either, though he was brought up as a Catholic. He sadly said that he wouldn't be accepted in his community because of his sexuality. Luckily he can be who he wants to be in Hitchin, though I wonder what it is about so many people that they want conformity over personal happiness. God, not content with taking our bodies away once we're dead, apparently wants us to use our bodies in ways that he deems acceptable while we're here.
I don't understand why anyone wants to judge other people's lifestyle choices, though I do feel that quite often those doing the judging might be trying to deflect attention away from their own issues (though not like the Catholic church has anything to worry about in that regard). Otherwise this man was happy and we talked about comedians he liked (but couldn't remember the names of), but in that small conversation I got a glimpse into the tiny crack in his soul (so that's going to be there for eternity) caused by being rejected for who he was.
