Archive for November, 2008


Posted in she-it on November 26, 2008 by Nada

I’m gone thar fer a few days. They kilt Davy Crockett. Remember the Alamo.


Trains R Us

Posted in holy crap on November 25, 2008 by Nada

Don’t ask me why I shop for used trains. It’s not like I can buy one. I mean really. Where would I park it?

The Mom Voice

Posted in political, whatevah on November 24, 2008 by Nada

I’m including this link, only because I don’t know how to embed the video. I hear my mother’s voice when I play it. She’s saying, “you just like to hear yourself talk” and “quit smirking.” I know that’s not nice AND I voted for him. But can you stop the Mom voice from playing in your head? It not like you can put your hand over her mouth. Mom’s dead…and in your head…and he hasn’t taken office yet…and you voted for him…and we need the change…and it’s his cute kids talking too…for Christ’s sake.

Super Powers

Posted in YouTube on November 19, 2008 by Nada

Bird Dog

Posted in life on November 19, 2008 by Nada

I volunteer for a hospital a couple of days a week. It is a really old hospital. The city is going to tear down the old part or some such bullshit, earthquake retrofit, or destroy some more beauty in the name of safety and progress. I walk up and down the halls fetching mail, playing bird dog (taking patients here and there), and getting supplies. I walk the long old part of the hospital and think this will one day be gone. I can practically make myself cry. I think about getting some anti-depressants. The halls are very long and very white with old hand blown glass arched windows, looking out on ancient Redwood trees they will probably feel the need to knock down too.

Sometimes I see lost people and walk them to where they need to go. I know you are thinking why don’t you give them directions and send them on their way. It doesn’t work like that. It’s a hospital and the people are so stressed, you can’t tell them how to get anywhere. You have to take them. You have to walk with them. I have learned this. You have to be calm and talk to them calmly. If they talk, you let them talk and do not interrupt them, even if they are speaking Spanish and you can only understand 2 out of ever 10 words they are saying. When they pause, you nod your head.

Some days I don’t bird dog for any people. Yesterday there were 2.

1. Older Hispanic Lady. I could only understand 4 out of 10 words she said. She was upset. She needed to go to a weirdo wing of the hospital. It is confusing because the hospital literally goes like this: C, B, A, E then shoots down a hallway across the magic bridge to the V side of a whole ‘nother builder. She was really upset because she had been in the E dentist and was trying to get to the V building and had logically assumed you walk to A, B, C. Wrong. You have to drop a floor and go backward. I bird dogged her to V building. She talked the whole way. I couldn’t understand jack. She thanked me a lot. People always thank the bird dog a lot. Bird dog services are odd in that you get thanked a lot.

2. Caucasian man by K elevators. This man was disoriented with a bloody gash on his neck, plus he looked like he had been wrestling with a dust mop. I asked if he was lost. He nodded and said he needed to go to the emergency room. I thought he needed to get his neck patched, which was dribbling blood. Nope. He confided in the elevator his hand was all messed up. He showed it to me, but my vision was hinky. All I could see was a fleshy blue mess and bent fingers. I escorted him to the ER, and told him to wait on the green line for the triage nurse. He did not. I backed him up and tried again and held onto him that time. I asked if he understood. He nodded. I asked him if the bird dog needed to wait with him. No. He was very grateful.

People like bird dog services. Wish I could do that full time. Dogs have a good life. Everybody likes them until they vomit on the oriental carpet.


Posted in life on November 17, 2008 by Nada

While I walked the dogs, a neighbor and his wife were on the other side of their plank fence in their Jacuzzi with the jets puttering. The husband said, “I’ll be quiet some day forever, except for the voices in your head.”

The man in the emergency room yelled, “Don’t give Ella no money cause she’s gonna buy crack. I thought she was hongry. I gave her some money ‘n I thought she was gonna get some Burger King, but she bought crack.”

And from my table at lunch, “It’s the kind of cancer that kills you later after you died.”

At the grocery store: “Honey, you have to shake the cans — you can tell how much tuna is in the can if you shake it, see this can is all water, my mother calls it cat food.”

Dreaming up Boot Fish

Posted in whatevah on November 17, 2008 by Nada

What is it about dreams that come from drugs? How come they are so colorful? Vivid? There is the fish that flies. He is accidentally trapped in our cottage, pounding against the warbled windows. He looks like a black boot with wings and a tail. The fish longs for the high rising blue surf and refuses to eat. We try to catch him, but he is a fast flyer. Our cottage picks itself up and moves to a place with green blowing pine trees and snow-capped mountains. The boot fish is dying. His skin hangs on his skeleton. He rattles the glass as he bangs on the windows.

We race to save his life, opening our blue wooden front door and running to our small European car with the grey felt interior. The fish flies behind like an airborne dog. All four of us, including the fish, cram ourselves inside our tiny car. We drive like crazy people down the mountainside toward the beach. The cottage watches but does not follow. The fish beats excitedly on the car’s windowpane. As we reach the stone sea wall, I roll the car’s window down. The fish flies forward. Two more boot fish fly up to greet him from the opposite side of the sea wall. They hover, but we cannot stop.

Traffic is bad. We must continue into town. I have to see a man about getting a bandaid tattoo burned on my left shoulder. The tattoo is a replica of my friend Zenith’s.