Death by Hepatitis

Dark title, isn't it? I had a flash of insight that I will die by hepatitis, a liver gone bad. No, not gone bad. Used up. Slowly desicated from the years of rugged misuse, of too many delicious cocktails and wine (red or wine, doesn't make a difference) taken for the sake of health. Antioxidants are a delightful excuse. I should give a warning to Jess about such activies but I doubt if she would listen. When I was one and twenty (so goes the poem) I believed in my own immortality and hold the stories to prove it. At fifty four I still stuggle against mortality but now with an added dimension--time lost. I have begun attempting to create a body of work, or at least I tell myself that. Today I crossed the threshold of 200 pages of the most recent project and the end is still not in sight. That's 2oo handwritten pages, not typed, and it comes out to about 4o,ooo words, more or less. I suppose I should count this as success since I began it on Sept. 8, 2008. I date beginnings and I date ends. The middles can care for themselves. I have wandered from the theme. Accept my apologies. Hepatitis turns the patient yellow or yellowish-green. The color is returned when the liver is more fully functioning. Why I'm offering this up, I don't know except that it's late, my defenses are down, I'm tired, and I wanted to write to someone. Thanks for listening.