The Map of a Truck

Today I recorded my final rap for Amanda Palmer's 'Map of Tasmania.'

Today Jim is working on 'The Organ Donor's March' animation, cutting up pieces of paper, figuring things out. I love to watch him work.

Today I found out my childhood friend is in a coma here in Melbourne. She was run over by a garbage truck. Her pelvis is crushed. Her coma is medically induced, they don't want to wake her up. Too much pain. She can't breathe on her own, there are machines to do it for her.

We grew up not far from each other, in the countryside of Ontario, Canada. Her family and my family were good friends. I have so many memories of those beautiful, blonde sisters and their fairytale home. She has lived in Melbourne for years. She is insanely smart, like scary smart. When she was five she had a better vocabulary than most professional writers. She's a lawyer now. She's 27. She was run over by a truck. A fucking truck.

Humans are so little. So fragile. Trucks are big. And stupid. Who the fuck thought of trucks?

I want to keep smiling and believe that she will be ok. Because humans are fragile but they are also very strong. And resilient. And she's so smart and determined and beautiful. She must know how to fix herself. Even in her sleep.

She was riding her bicycle to work.

I write a blog, I send emails, I record a song. I keep doing things. Intermittently, I cry. Quietly.

I want to be able to make her all better. I want to fix everything.

Jim cuts paper. I send some more emails. And I try to understand how to keep going when someone so beautiful is hurting so badly. And I can't do anything about it.