Well, you know, I'm feeling pretty strong these days and as soon as I can get my doctor to give me a note, I think I'll start writing the advice column again. Maybe part-time at first: two or three days a week to start. We'll see how it goes.

So if you have any questions, send them to advice@salon.com. 

I don't know exactly how this is going to go. I feel like my brain has been on a long, strange vacation. But frankly, I expect it'll be hilarious and great. I've been changed by this experience of cancer surgery and recovery, in unexpected ways. Most unexpected perhaps: I can't stop buying clothes. Now, I needed clothes. I was clothes-deprived before surgery. Definitely, it was a self-imposed thing stemming from, I dunno, childhood macho indoctrination that men just don't care about clothes. Also I guess my wife-induced Project Runway-watching contributed.  (I'm glad Seth Aaron won, by the way.) But still it's been interesting to note that not only am I suddenly interested in clothes, but they must be bargains.

Other changes? Um, I think I'm hella more relaxed! Like, what could go wrong, right? And who gives a fuck even if it does go wrong, right? Like what's the big deal? How many things are really a big deal? Permanent exit is a big deal, at least for those left behind. Extreme disability, scarring, inability to move and talk, those are big deals. But the little disabilities I'm left with? As compared to life/no life? Not a big deal, IMHO.

So, anyway, look for the new and perhaps improved or perhaps impaired Cary Tennis and Since You Asked as soon as I can get it together and the doc say OK.

OK?

Write to me. advice@salon.com. OK, gotta go tweet this now.--ct