Diseases Always Get In The Way Of A Good Time

I moved from Denver to Omaha 12 days ago and I'm already drifting off into a suburban stupor, worrying about sorting the recycling instead of 6" heels, Swiffering blinds instead of drinking cocktails, and yardwork instead of art galleries.

So why would I make such a bold move? Because unfortunately I'll be having my 51st surgery, and recouping will take a few months, which means I'm moving back in with my parents so they can take care of me. Yea thanks disease, not only are you painful, frustrating and never-ending, but you are also an incredible financial burden, strain on my relationships, and problems always seem to arise at the worst possible times.

So you're coming along for the ride. I'll be documenting my entire health debacle with photography, films, blogging, and even describing every account of my trials and excrutiating tribulations during my longtime hospital friend, the I.V. He has always been there for me, following me through some of the toughest times of my life, becoming an ally against pain and infection for decades of hospital stays. And that motherfucker gives me the morphine I need to recite beautiful poetry and create enough fodder for another 10 art shows.

*The photograph was taken during my 12hr drive from Denver when I stopped to set flowers on my grandpa's grave. It was 1am, and my shining my headlights on the gravestones was the only way I could find his name.