 |
|||
|
2005-05-17 - 8:18 p.m. feeling *much* better. it was a busy body day. picked up my shipment of leather from the east coast. it wasn't horrible, it is different though. hmmm, i hope its okay with my buyer. it's actually a bit more streamlined, which is delicious. but there is one flaw. aaagggg. agg. i wanted to back track and tell you about mothers day. i went to a hospice convelescent home, two of them, and gave all of the moms gerber daisys. i arrived with a bucket of daisys and a heart already about to burst. the first one, i could barely say my name i was so choked with tears. aaaa. which was just fine because the first ol' lady couldnt' even remember hers. this other woman wheeled up near the doorjam and asked me to come over, said she saw me down the hall because i was so tall. her parents were gold miners in CO. i was actually named after a gold mine. she loved my designs i showed her. how fucking sweet is that. grandma got down with the skull charm necklase i had on. touched. next thing i notice another guy rolls up, i'm quickly surrounded by the wheelchair brigade. i went room to room and made my deliveries. if they couldn't sit up i'd bring the posie up to their face and talked to them about the color. i snuck through doing good deads, turning the blasting hip hop off and changing it to a calming classical. the nurses regard them as already smoked, so they don't give them much consciousness. act as if they aren't "there" and at what point in a lifespan is it determinable that one is no longer "here". and if not here then where the fuck are they? where are you? this place was pretty clean and nice. quaint. everyone kept asking who i was with and i would freeze, they would search, a church? a group? a cult? no...just me. that's when the dumbfounding would begin. listen, if you are ever depressed, get to a convey home. deliver flowers. you will leave beaming, or profoundly bowled over, at the very least, quite touched. i was also a tad sad. to see the state of aging. to remember my grandma. she was kick ass. it was so touching it hurt...imensely. the entire experience reminded me of why people check out on heroin. because sometimes i feel way too sensitive for this world. the next place was horrible. a tower. like the "hilton" towers in ho chi min during vietnam. the entire place smelled of pee. the patients were ignored or treated as chores, objects. one woman begged me to help her move from the cementing lethargy of her bed to the chair next to her. all she wanted in life was to sit in the chair. wouldn't you want some movement. i asked the nurses to help and they fingered me a no and stomped out. i didn't know if there was some rule or if it would jeopardize her health. fuck i should of helped her. i was afraid to get a law suit. america and her glorious law suits. it's made us a fearful, cautious unloving nation. where our neighbors become potential lawsuits instead of friends. i could barely take the place. men in wheelchairs staring off into the space of the florescently lit hallway. vacant. i would wonder if they were gone completely, then i might say something and they are coherent. lucid. clear. so they were just staring off for hours and hours, maybe out of borredem. out of entrapment. prison. i'm quite sure most haven't felt the freshness of the smell of rosemary or jasmin in the wind or sat in the sun in months. i'm afraid to bet on over a year. devastating. sporatic, sparce families coming by to visit. families who can't take the financial burden of keeping better care of them. families who have lost the tradition of keeping the elderly at home. families who would rather just believe they are cared for and when they leave the building the conscious daily thought of that prison leaves their thinking too. always strange, crossing boundaries others can't cross. being someone free enough to cross. my wings are *everything* to me. everything. my freedom. the other distinct times i felt the annunciation of these boundaries had been at juvie (kid prison), and in vietnam. this "massuese" worked on me and made vast overatures to have me take her home to LA. as i left the country a mere hour later i couldn't help but think of this stunning, possibly brilliant young girl could not just leave, where as i, only two years older could go where my impulse flickered.
|
|||
|
|
|||
|
|
|||