Here’s a(nother) glimpse of my inner churnings and bubblings…
************************************************************************
It’s 12:33 AM 8/19/04
There’s this security guard here, Arrington (or maybe Herrington) and he is FURIOUS.
The phone rings: “Man, what the fuck!!”, there is a knock at the door, “Shit, what the fuck!?”, Somebody asks him to hand them something, “Nigga, what the fuck?!”
Also, his back hurts. How do I know? I’m NOT…a doctor (but I am a real Worm….) But Mr. Arrington has this subtle manner in which he expresses himself.
Someone says, “What’s up?” “Man, my fuckin’ back hurse!!”, the same phone rings again, “Shit, my fuckin’ back hurse!!”, a panel starts beeping, “Nigga, my fuckin’ back hurse!!
Has he seen a doctor? No. Why? Because “if I see a doctor, they’ll take one look at it and give me muscle relaxants (Note: He did say “muscle relaxers”, but I respect the English language, even if we did turn “aluminium” into “aluminum”, “colour” into “color”, “night” into “nite" etc. It’s better than turning “hurts” into “hurse”, “You’d better leave that shit there” into “Ya bedda led dem shiz dare” and “Hey, what’s up?” into “Gloopy goopy glurp?” and so on… ).” Why hasn’t he gotten muscle relaxants? Because then he’ll have to see a doctor. He’s like a whiny broken record trapped in a Mobius strip. And I am in his orbit. It is pretty interesting though; big, burly black man puling like a bitch with cramps. I can only hope that his continued refusal to go to a doctor and get something to shut him up will result in his spinal cord snapping and him losing all use of his big, burly black cizzock. That’ll fix his wagon.
It’s 3:24 AM, 8/19/04
Walking back to the Hospital from my home, I was assaulted by thousands of crickets and the overwhelming scent of Nature. Walking between the black expanse of Central Park and the chthonic-lit castle-like Hospital is always strange and sometimes I sense a genuine presence behind me. Thinking about all the bad deaths this place has seen some post human unrest is to be expected. About a week of so ago, I accidentally heard a patients dying. A code was called late one night on the 6th floor of the Hospital building. The proper authorities were called to assist. A few minutes after the call, a light on my board went on and I asked if the resident needed assistance. I heard some strange noises , but no response. I asked again. More strange noises. Nothing but noises. I asked a third time and heard and angry young male voice yell “No! No assistance! Nothing-“ then the light went out. I wrote down the time in the log and double checked the room number. A moment later, we received the call that the code patient had died. I noted the time of death and the room number and realized that the room I had just heard from was the room in which, according to the doctor’s notes, the patient had just died. The button to call for assistance was hit by the attending doctor by accident allowing me to hear the last efforts of the doctors to save the patient and the patient’s last efforts to live. I was thinking about this as I walked back to the Hospital at 3ish in the morning. Directly in front of the entrance is a rock garden with a statue of the Virgin Mary. Swallowed up by the insectile soundscape, looking at the light of a Lovecraft monster on the Madonna, thinking about what I had witnessed a recently, I was unable to suppress a shudder. Did Jesus ever think that centuries after his death, statues of his mother would creep me out? Why the hell not? Hm.
5:53 AM
Huge major update!! Mr. Arrington just made a phone call to someone. In a nutshell he asked this person (whom he called at 5:51 in the morning) for some “little yellow pills, I don’t know the name” for his “twisted back.” He’s asking this mysterious drug-wielding stranger so he doesn’t have to “get a subscription.” I can only assume he meant “prescription.”
On an unrelated topic: I loathe those Wendy’s commercials with that fat fucking bastard. The TV commercials are bad but the radio spots are exponentially worse.
“The Bart, the.”
“Well, no one who speaks German could be evil.”
Are you still with me?
8/20/04 3:24 AM
It’s like I’m surrounded by three stupid parrots. Bilingual parrots that can’t speak any language correctly. And it strikes me: How can the nerve center of a huge health center in New York City have such inarticulate morons working here? What if there’s some huge disaster and someone needs a clear voice? Lives could be at stake because these people are too lazy to pronounce all twenty-six letters of the alphabet. THERE’S ONLY 26!! I was expected to know the capitals of all fifty states in fourth grade and I did a damn good job for someone who doesn’t use combinations of them to form words every single day! It’s like a stupid tumor killing my brain. Fortitude friend, fortitude…
So I get’s off work at 7 am as usual. I am awake at 11:40. Why? Did I set an alarm? Is there a dog in my bed? Is Jade confused and horny? No, no and maybe one or the other. Actually, there is a dragon farting right outside my window. Upon further investigation, it is a huge fucking crane carrying things from a flatbed on the ground to the roof. I started typing this stuff to wait for it to go away and now it is gone. I just wanted to let you all know that no matter where you live; nothing, NOTHING is worse than waking up to a dragon farting and then changing itself into a crane and lifting things up to my roof. Except living in Jersey. Now it is gone and I am going to back to sleep back to again. To back to.
But first, at 5:11 or so this morning, my phone rings and it’s Alan. From 5:11 to 6:30ish or so I talked with him about life, love, Jennifer Eccels, the price of teabagging in Chinese whorehouses, how “girth” in the new “width”, the Coriolis Effect and its effect on Jade, the same effect that it has on coconuts and some many things that might or night not have actually been discussed. Either way, it was one of the most surreal conversations I have ever held, mostly due to sleep deprivation but who knows for sure? If you do, please send a self-addressed stamped envelope to:
No comments:
Post a Comment