Saturday, February 22, 2014
"It needs to be immobilized until we can get you in to see Spider Pig".
I have been re-watching the television show, Six Feet Under on the nights that Alec works. I have been doing it for a couple of months. I am in the last season. I remember coming home from a year in Spain in the fall of 2005. It was a rough time in my life and I watched the last season in a marathon session on rented DVDs. I would get really wasted and sit on my bed and watch and watch and watch. And cry.
"Her jaw is broken in two places. She has to be muzzled and can't come out of her crate except to pee for six to eight weeks".
I laid next to the baby Pit Bull that my mom rescued from euthanasia and cried. We had literally gotten her at the like, thirteenth hour. Her eyes seemed to scream above her wired shut mouth. I couldn't hold her enough. But I couldn't really hold her. I just laid next to her cage while she pressed her body up to the side and I petted her from the outside.
Margaret killed herself a month and a half before I came home. I learned that she loved the show and watched it religiously. As I downloaded a new episode all these years later, I happened to see the original release date: June something, 2005. With each episode I watch, I know I am getting closer to the day she did it in late July, 2005. It fills me with doom, but I can't stop watching it. What shocked me is that she didn't see the last three episodes. She didn't hold off until the end. I can tell by the release dates. Maybe when I watch the last three episodes she won't be with me anymore, maybe she will get out of my head.
Spider Pig's office looked as dingy as ever. I looked over at the physical therapy area. My old cool receptionist was gone. I remember that she was in graduate school; she probably graduated and got the kind of job she really wanted. The actual physical therapist was gone too, he was getting married and wanted to move back to his old hometown and buy a house near his parents and have land and kids with his high school sweetheart. A new guy was in there. A year has passed.
Everyone has moved on. Except me. I am just broken again and living in that nasty office, watching people with catheters and reading the same old magazines.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Christine. Born on February 2nd. When I began teaching her I asked her all day elementary teacher if she had Asperger's.
"No," he replied, "she is just fucking creepy and scares me sometimes".
"Don't look at me!" she hissed at the other students when entering the classroom, walking stiffly yet rapidly to her chair in the corner, head erect but somehow pointed at the ground at the same time. Seething. Hyper intelligent, yet again large glassy eyes that don't seem all the way there. Presented a highly articulate self written treatise in front of the entire school about how much school sucks and bowed primly at the end before leaving the stage, in front of smiling kids and parents that still actually like school.
"Alec, I have met some of the weirder people this year that have the exact same birthday as me...."
"Wow, Bill's birthday was just like a day or two after yours!".
Alec's boss is bizarre. Sings out loud randomly. Talks to people like there are retarded as if he is just trying to get his ass kicked. Will not say anything directly to anyone, just pontificates loudly into the air, slowly parsing his words out into even chunks.
"Weirdos," we said in unison.
"Another weirdo birthday".
The first week back from Christmas break we ended up missing two school days because of weather. Two weeks ago Atlanta experienced a well-publicized "storm" that shut the city down and called for an early dismissal from school and an additional three days off. I worked on Monday and am now on my second snow day and school is called off again for tomorrow. We have a previously scheduled break for next week, no school again. It is kind of awesome, but a little weird. The kids see a cloud in the sky on the rare days that we have classes and pull out their phones, assuming school will be called out. We have no momentum. It feels like teaching in Mexico.
There is a fifteen foot cliff about nine feet away from the side of my house. It is filling with ice and snow. Though the recommendation from the City was that the dig-out for the basement of the new house, that is being built next to my really old house, happen rapidly and that the retaining wall for the basement would be built within a matter of days to prevent erosion and destruction of my foundation, these smart builders decided to do the dig the day before everyone knew that a major storm was going to shut Atlanta down for days. They won't even work if it is cloudy outside, so it was pretty obvious they weren't going to come out in this shit storm. I feel dizzy when I look through the windows of my house into the pit. It feels like the house is sliding....
"William S. Burroughs, February 5th! Another weirdo birthday!".