Buenos Aires Diary

In 2010 while living in Buenos Aires, I was diagnosed with stage IV colorectal cancer. After spending what money I had and selling everything to get treated in the private system, I had to rely on public health care in Argentina, which is open to everyone. These are the posts I wrote during and after treatment. I did not talk to cancer, nor did I win any sort of battle against cancer. From my perspective now, my survival seems to have resulted from a combination of dumb luck, stubbornness, and charity from surprising sources. I also had sex a couple times and got robbed.

A good person

Originally published on April 1, 2019 I’m not qualified to write about being a good person. (But hey, I’m going to do it anyway.) By that I mean the stoic version of being a good person not the religious version. Particularly I’m not talking about the Christian version of being a good person. I would …

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In my room

I worry that all the psychological and material gains I made since moving to Mexico City have been revoked by this pandemic. My job is gone, the one for which I’d been self-training the last few years in Argentina. I’d taught myself to cook, running successful short-term kitchens, and overcame my fear of yeast and …

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Killer nuts

I’m amazed at how shitty I feel when I can’t poop. Even if only for 24 hours. Oh, how grateful I am when my output starts again. But for an ostomate like me it’s more complicated (and dangerous) than simple constipation. People with ostomies often suffer from intestinal blockages, usually caused by eating specific, hard-to-digest …

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The boy from Misiones

How do you know when a boy’s for sale? Here’s how you know for sure: After everyone else leaves the room, and if the boy takes his shirt off and dribbles red wine on his chest, and laughs and throws his head back, with eyes closed as you whorl it around on his hot, brown skin with your thumb, lick it off, then kiss his neck, just as hot. His laugh like the short bark of a very happy dog. Then you know.

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