i have my discontents but when i get to my hospital job and look in the mirror pre-shift i think of all the hurting people in this building i came to help and all the medicos i’m here to help help these poor folks and i think "you’re a useful *******" and that’s good enough
we convened to play a book of hieroglyphic scores bought for a buck at the yearly carnegie music library sale collectively you could say these pieces by various composers comprise the music of the spheres we knocked the **** out of them on friday night with drums, a cheap synth and a ukulele plugged into a powerbook playing these scores today by forgotten or never known primordials who channeled nature and magnetism and yoked them to the concept of music was like breathing life into the dead reanimating them i say death to bach and metallica those greedy pigs we honor the others because we are the others
"enough of this lollygagging" i say to my wife as i leave for my hospital job "there are lives to save" and as soon as i lock up my bike at work i run into a woman stuck on the sidewalk trying and failing to make it up the hill "my chest hurts real bad" i fetch a wheelchair and push her up that hill delivering her to the emergency room man am i connected to the universe
my fellow respiratory therapists hate everybody nobody gets away we have a new fella good looking, young, sculpted, groomed a nice guy and decent therapist "oh, the model" says brenda with idle contempt it’s a beautiful thing
here on this perfect summer morning i take my friday ny times to the Coffee Connection to sit outside and enjoy my day off-- and the city is on lockdown again sitting not allowed i suppose i could give it a squat
it’s a common consolation that we all share the same view flush or broke, lucky or luckless we all live under the same sky pondering the same constellations too bad it’s ******* the wealthy live on another planet more water, less desert more dessert closer to the stars and their constellations provide luxurious consolation