A dance instructor and friend who had surgery recently has been out of commission since. But he told Joy he wanted to see her and me today at the hospital. I woke up in the middle of the night and thought if wants to see us, it wasn’t good news. And it wasn’t. He’s going on hospice in a couple of days.
Something important must be going on.
Oh, look who showed up at one minute to midnight.
Once past Sunset we were moving faster and once past Wilshire - no traffic to be seen and clear sailing right to the doctor's office. The GPS predicted drive time had been forty-seven minutes. Actual drive time was thirty minutes.
Appointment was fine - he did some re-testing and that was about it. But he needs the little blood test and then the open MRI so I really need to book those things.
Listening to a collection of New Yorker articles called Rogues. In it, there's a profile of the TV producer who gave Trump his break in The Apprentice. There's a grotesquely accurate depiction of Trump in the piece in which he is described as a poor person's image of a rich person. In another article, dealing with arms dealers from the Middle East, there's a description of the vulgar displays of wealth these indirect murderers make. Somehow, their tastes are no different from Trump's.
Sad news about Neil Gaiman.
