Thursday, March 03, 2005
Vomit and the compelling power of Christ
Came home last night to this sign, crudely scotch-taped to the door.
"No smoking. No open flames. No extreme heat." (Read: Someone who lives here is a smoker who is dying from smoking, who is on oxygen, and still goes on smoking. Enter at your own damn risk.)
So yeah...the oxygen is here to stay. I calculate that there are enough cylinders of it sitting around to fuel a deep sea dive and full decompression.
On the topic of profound and highly unusual morbidity- I can't help it. The minister from the same church my grandfather had his memorial service in (dying of nearly the same thing) is upstairs right now, Glennfiddich in his coffee (on our dime), arranging funeral services. Like, seriously! We just found out that this was even going to happen, like two months ago. Again, "she just wants to be organized", but god knows this just isn't the most depressing thing to do right now.
As soon as I met the minister, he grabbed my hand and looked at me intently in that "I can see your soul" sort of way, and almost crushed me in his grip before I managed a weak "I'm the granddaughter." I can't remember his name- but any sort of ill feelings that I had prior as I was making coffee for the meeting, just sort of magnified when I met him. In this context, he might as well just carry a scythe around with him- to be used only after the donation to the church is enclosed in the will.
I've never been so intensely angry at anyone that I don't even know before. Or, so wrongfully and deliberately angry at someone with a collar on. And worst is this:
"Hmm...my life is wasting away, so I'll spend my last days (months? weeks?) planning the flowers I want at my funeral, and whatever poignant sayings that I, you know, won't even hear. Because I'll be dead." So, yeah, I'm mad at my grandmother, and I have no right to be, I know. I don't want to be in this house right now.
Ugh...I feel really sick and I still have an essay to write on some Sean Casey play.
Update: I forgot to buy a buspass today- again. All this shit change I have is getting blown on shit transfers that are killing trees. Also, for anyone interested in hijinkery...I have a borrowed tape recorder from Ed. until monday that we can tool around with. I'm thinking taping of weird conversation, or beatnik spontaneous spoken word. Finger snapping included. ¶ 8:32 PM
"No smoking. No open flames. No extreme heat." (Read: Someone who lives here is a smoker who is dying from smoking, who is on oxygen, and still goes on smoking. Enter at your own damn risk.)
So yeah...the oxygen is here to stay. I calculate that there are enough cylinders of it sitting around to fuel a deep sea dive and full decompression.
On the topic of profound and highly unusual morbidity- I can't help it. The minister from the same church my grandfather had his memorial service in (dying of nearly the same thing) is upstairs right now, Glennfiddich in his coffee (on our dime), arranging funeral services. Like, seriously! We just found out that this was even going to happen, like two months ago. Again, "she just wants to be organized", but god knows this just isn't the most depressing thing to do right now.
As soon as I met the minister, he grabbed my hand and looked at me intently in that "I can see your soul" sort of way, and almost crushed me in his grip before I managed a weak "I'm the granddaughter." I can't remember his name- but any sort of ill feelings that I had prior as I was making coffee for the meeting, just sort of magnified when I met him. In this context, he might as well just carry a scythe around with him- to be used only after the donation to the church is enclosed in the will.
I've never been so intensely angry at anyone that I don't even know before. Or, so wrongfully and deliberately angry at someone with a collar on. And worst is this:
"Hmm...my life is wasting away, so I'll spend my last days (months? weeks?) planning the flowers I want at my funeral, and whatever poignant sayings that I, you know, won't even hear. Because I'll be dead." So, yeah, I'm mad at my grandmother, and I have no right to be, I know. I don't want to be in this house right now.
Ugh...I feel really sick and I still have an essay to write on some Sean Casey play.
Update: I forgot to buy a buspass today- again. All this shit change I have is getting blown on shit transfers that are killing trees. Also, for anyone interested in hijinkery...I have a borrowed tape recorder from Ed. until monday that we can tool around with. I'm thinking taping of weird conversation, or beatnik spontaneous spoken word. Finger snapping included. ¶ 8:32 PM
