Monday, November 29, 2004

NY Journal # 19

Monday, November 29, 2004

"Let's stop in at Myers of Keswick, ...I swear, every time I go there, there's always at least one absolutely beautiful girl there"
I said this to Matt as we walked up Hudson, checking out the Hudson neighborhood more thoroughly and just generally walking to walk and explore.
Myers of Keswick is an everything-British store for homesick Englanders and those who appreciate the few delectable treats among their admitedly, not-so-envied cuisine. Pasties, pork pies, bangers, rashers, Scotch eggs, Penguin chocolates, wine gummies, a dozen variations of malt vinegar, you name it, they've got it, mate. I love going in there mostly because it is so quintissentially English and damn it if the product names aren't often hilarious (Morton's Mushy Peas, Baxter's Cock-a-Leekie soup, etc). Truth be told though, the store seems to be a magnet for beautiful ladies. It might just be a magnet for beautiful people in general. I wouldn't know because I'm always distracted by the stunning lasses and the food shelves I then try to refocus on so as not to stare at said lovelies. I'm not just talking "hey, look, a beautiful girl"... if it were that easy, I wouldn't be mentioning it. No, I'm talking a-choir-of-angels-singing-in-harmony beautiful, the kind where nouns and verbs fall away to leave you fumbling naked with a bunch of adverbs and adjectives.
Ok, so they're not always This beautiful, but on Saturday, the lovely lady was none other than Ms Liv Tyler. And if you think she might not be as beautiful in person as she appears on film .... fuggetabowtit. she's more. Even with (or possibly because of) very little make-up and a big ol' pregnant belly, waddling around the store.
- ab-so-lute-ly stunning. The common public refrain of "how is she a product of Aerosmith-A*hole Steven Tyler??" rang loud... there was no discernable sign I saw in person that they're related, nothing that isn't there on tv or film.
She's just stunning, perfect. ridiculously so. He looks like an ass's ass looking into an ass-mirror of infinity.
Soo... needless to say, I forgot what I was thinking about buying from the store and ended up leaving.
The End.

Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Hi, I'm John Stewart and welcome to the Daily Show....!
On Tuesday! I will hear those words LIVE. finally! Matt & I called in for tickets 5 or 6 months ago and it's finally time to go!
I feel like I'm getting to see Santa Claus appear on the Easter Bunny show with additional guests, the Tooth Fairy and Godzilla. music by Mr T.
As if that wasn't good enough, we Also have tickets for Dec 7th..! HA!~

I still need to arrange tickets for Saturday Night Live, Conan O'Brien and the John MacEnroe Show (before it gets nixed). While I was in calif. I'd entertained the notion of going to / taking my mom to the Ellen Degeneres show though it ended up not working out, time-wise. too bad, 'cause Ellen is funnier'n all'get'up. If anyone knows what that phrase means or where it comes from, please tell me 'cause I keep using it.

Tuesday, November 23, 2004
The injuries pile higher.....
or ..things, that suck - a lot:

- The Raiders season is officially over. so sad. so very very sad.
- my home laptop is on it's last legs, it seems. Not even Tron could save its fizzling, sketchy video chip.
- speaking of which, my Tron DVD is glitching at one spot in the movie. Grr!
- people still think office building bathroom stalls are fair game for talking to me or placing phone calls. Hi, are you not aware that You're On The Toilet?!
- Ending new friendships is hard even when all signs and friends point to it being absolutely necessary. Sometimes you really -shouldn't- look past the bad.
- being woken up at 2:47am by kitten ruckus.
- being woken up at 4:36am by kitten ruckus.
- being woken up at 5:36am by kitten ruckus.
- being woken up at 6:51am by kitten ruckus.
- not having health insurance.
- not being able to sit in a warm Washington Square Park for hours on end.
- the next four years. politically speaking.
- vaccuum cleaners, ant eaters, pool filters.

Saturday, November 20, 2004
Ok already. fine,... I get it, yes - I'm ready for a girlfriend. or ... casual dating. or 'whatever'. I prefer blondes, redheads and brunettes. I'd like it if they were tall or short or of medium height. Really, I'm not picky, so long as they're perfect. Deliveries can be made to: ♦♦♦ Washington Place Apt 14 (rear bedroom) - NY, NY 10014. Please provide air holes and food in your shipping container.

Thursday, November 18, 2004
Another week, another shock....

First off, I should apologize for basically subjecting you to reading what amounts to 'my diary' - obviously or not, the journals didn't start out this way. Perhaps I should be less candid with the details of my mom's deteriorating condition. And then I remember that when it comes down to it, I've been writing for a historical record of this part of my life, to look back on later and hopefully process in mentally healthy ways that I cant seem to do right now.
Sooo.. this is for me. If you're curious and voyeuristic (aren't we all?) - read on. this being said of course, to those of you I haven't lost already with tales of gloom and impending death. Not really sunshine and lollipop bedtime reading, I know.

Yesterday, I got a call from my dad, his voice low and reserved in an all too familiar 'harbinger of bad news' way. I paddled through the small talk which seems understandably necessary in some way but is also a frustrating formality that only heightens the anxiety of not knowing what is behind door number one. It seems that behind door number one, my mom fell the night before. Fell. Sounds benign, right? It would be, if she had been able to lift herself off of the ground. Or if my 72 year old, 5'10", 130lb dad were able to. The fall occured trying to transfer my mom from wheelchair to couch, a distance of... 8 inches. My mom stood from the wheelchair but ... for lack of a better way to put it... then didn't know how to turn around and sit down. What followed was a heart wrenching story of them struggling to drag and pull her along the floor to get to the two recessed steps of the living room, so that they might get leverage and get her to her feet. There have been other falls, mostly in the bedroom or kitchen - a problem that for a few weeks now has greatly increased the importance of getting hospice help.
Yesterday, my dad's call was to inform me that he was going to have to move her into the hospice home that her mother had lived her last days in (alzheimers). The level of care my mom needed was beyond my dad's physical capabilities and even a live-in helper wouldn't, as far as my dad knew, be able to handle all the various tasks that needed to get done or physicality required to lift my 6'2" mom. Long story, short: my mom Very Much did Not like that idea. My brother said he would take an unpaid leave from his job for 3 months to come up there and help, I was against the hospice home idea for a number of reasons but... I'm not there, so I sort of feel I have less right to imput on the topic. Friends and family friends supported my dad in his decision, knowing that he is going to end up hurting himself if he continues being her caretaker. Still, I felt I would regret it if I didn't suggest in no uncertain terms that I thought mom would really suffer emotionally from the stigma of being placed in a home, the same home her mother had been sent to, a home, obviously, to die. I gently explained / suggested that there are live-in hospice workers that Will do it all, from cooking and cleaning to helping with physical tasks like lifting, helping with showers, etc. He said he would seriously give it a lot of thought over the night but that the hospice home had a rare spot open now so.... that's probably what they would do.
A call from my dad, this morning - reprieve. No hospice home. Again, nearly in tears, my dad told me that this really needs to be about her and her last days, her happiness and well being. She deserves better, he said. Funny.... I listened and agreed with a detatched sense of relief when he told me - now, that brings me to tears. Ok, maybe that's not so funny. but maybe That's funny that it's not funny? me thinks I do digress......
She Does deserve better. Of course, she deserves to not have brain cancer at all. Most people, falling short of evil, dont deserve sickness - not that it's my place to dole out sickness or determine who deserves what, good or bad.
Does it really just come down to life's roulette spin and that little white ball that plinks across the numbers of the different fates your life could land on? There is something both reassuring and deathly scary in the blind randomness of that.

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