The soldier on the phone tonight. He’s not been on my blog since I started writing about him. Thank God I can blot out reality…

“I was on your blog today,” he said.

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no.”

“What? You don’t want me to go there and read? I won’t go there if you don’t want me to. You just sent me that one thing to read so I decided…”

“Ohhh crap!”

“What? I love you, P. That’s what you do. You can say anything you want.”

“Oh brother. Oh for chrissakes. Ohhhhhh… I am intensely uncomfortable.”

“Why? It doesn’t matter.”

“I was going to print that stuff and give it to you.”

“Oh, I didn’t read…”

“Don’t tell me! Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. La la la la la la.”

He just laughed.

“Oh my God, I need some heroin. Heroin, some valium and some pot too. On top the other stuff, I’ll need some pot. Put it right into my vein.”

He snorted.

“Okay, well I’m glad you had some fun. But please don’t tell me anymore. Because I can’t handle the truth,” I said. “I CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH.”

“You can’t handle the truth?”

“La la la la la….”