Scarecrow went in for surgery yesterday to fix the tendon he snapped off at the elbow last week trying to muscle his way through anxiety via yoga . . . concurrently, the lung spot loooooooms, a potentially deadly tickle, a cough a cough a cough. He should have been home and fine on the same day yesterday. Unless anesthesia and not being able to breathe didn't go well together? Of course, I'm not in the loop to hear anything. I'm starting to see why people like twitter. It would be funny that his wife hates me because he looked at my ass one day, that stacked up against life/death shown for how absurd such things are finally - it would funny if I were laughing. But we're alone, he and I, in a necessary friendship loop of 2, easily put asunder by anything befalling either one of us, no witnesses except an obscure unread blog. Maybe that's why we have kept this friendship, for its Nothingness, because it is stripped of anything that it is not. There is nothing holding it in place or together. Just like there's nothing holding any of us together and on this earth except a film of skin and wishful thinking.

...it is my feeling that the only thing you have to fear is fear, in that sense that to the extent that you have enough faith or trust to let it happen, you always go through the next one and the next one and the next one. In the Tibetan literature, they say, "Embrace your ten thousand horrible demons and your ten thousand beautiful demons." You've just got to take it all and keep going. "Yeah, that one too," and "That one too," and keep going. All your fears have to be embraced, entertained, honored, and you go on with them.

--Ram Dass, lecture
in The Only Dance There Is

update: he's fine, roaring in pain alive as anything