Miasmatic Review

There's no cure.

For a while now I’ve been a very sick man. I’m not alluding to my head cold that I mentioned in the below post. There have been some very serious issues with me, and they haven’t been getting any better. Slowly I’ve been getting progressively worse.

I’ve been trying to keep up a good face about it, but I think my friends and family have figured out something is wrong. As things have progressed they’ve started to alienate me, or at least it feels that way. I see and hear less and less from them and they’ve stopped inviting me out with them. Not to be all machismo about it, but I can handle that easily. What bothered me was not knowing what was wrong with me.

Finally, today, I’ve been given a partial answer. They finally diagnosed my condition. I found much relief in that. Unfortunately, it’s incurable. There is absolutely nothing that can be done about it. I probably won’t die, but I will suffer for the rest of my life with it. I guess I’ll just have to learn to cope with it, as it’s also not treatable.

I have Chronic Lyricosis. There are two different versions of Lyricosis.

1) Singing so poorly that nobody can understand what you’ve sung; 2) Not knowing the actual lyrics, but singing anway. Usually type one causes type two in the listeners, therefore the condition is considered contagious.

The sad thing is that have I both versions, even if the second version is somewhat voluntary. Yes, I know the correct lyrics to Celin Dion’s “My heart will go on” is: Near far wherever you are, I believe that the heart does go on. I always sing, Near, far alone or in a bar. I believe that beer tastes better. Sure the Carpenters wrote, “Why do birds suddenly appear, everytime that you are near.” But isn’t it better “Why do birds suddenly appear, everytime I drink beer?” Of course Joe Crocker meant the lyric to be, Love lift us up where we belong. Where eagles cry, on a mountain high.” And I’m sure he’d kick my arse for me changing it to, “Love lift us up where we were wrong. Where the eagles die, way up in the sky” but I just can’t help it.

I prefer making up my own lyrics. They are a lot more fun to sing. Though in the fact that I can’t hold a tune in a dump truck and often sing in a Scottish burr, does it really matter what lyrics I sing? I mean usually people are running away from my absolutely horrible singing voice. Many years ago Grau’s family, Wes’ Family and mine went camping. They had a karaoke contest. Although I know I’m a bad singer, I was kind of hurt at the fact that they where honest to goodness surprised that I didn’t win the worst singer award.

Well, at least I know why they don’t invite to go karaoke anymore.

Oh, and as for the real health issues, uh… they still don’t know. It’s pretty bad, oh and I’ve gotten so used to coughing up stomach acid and bile all the time that I’ve gotten accustomed to the taste and actually kind of enjoy it. Yea, I know.