Weekend Update
Addison turned four this weekend. We had a little party on Friday night. Grampa & Gramma from the farm came up and gave him a toy which Lynn and I mistakenly called a bulldozer. "That's a *frontloader*!" insisted six year old cousin Keith. Anyway, this frontloader plays heavy metal music and drives all over the entire house when you push the buttons. Has anyone officially labelled one aisle of the store the SPITE aisle? "How to tell the kids you love them, while letting the parents know that you're out to get 'em." Seriously. This is a whole class of toys -- loud, horrifying intrusive, but, of course, tremendously fun, toys.
...
On Saturday night, a premiere performance of one of my ten minute plays, The Smart Ones went up to a packed house. The lead actress was fantastic. The directing was spot on. The other two characters were very solid. All of this is a relief. You feel so nervous giving up your creative children for other people to nourish and develop, but they did great. Ultimately, the performance was so good, that it illuminated the dramatic holes that I couldn't see before. Which is (big picture) very gratifying and (immediate picture: sitting there in the audience, having been singled out as a present playwright) a little bit embarrassing. I'm focusing on the big picture on this one.
....
Saturday afternoon found Lynn and I riding in the Ambulance strapped to plastic boards side by side. It was a genuinely enjoyable experience. Not the glass-shattering, whiplash-inducing, rear-ending, or the split second wondering of whether this car accident will propel you into a different reality, and not discomfort of those backboards (ultimately more painful than the accident), but the opportunity to get a close up view of the near-death experience while not actually being anywhere near death.
The paramedics call their way down through the longest checklist imaginable. It runs through your own personal medical history, social security numbers, through all your vital statistics, and down to the mileage on the ambulance which is like the meter on your cab (which you realize that you will be fighting about with your insurance company in a month, waiting on hold to talk t someone's manager so you can argue that you did not in fact, choose to take the ambulance just for a good time. The numbers dialogue between the paramedics was all so practiced and timed and pervasive, that you came to think that it was a long incantation that was a precursor to starting the ambulance on its quest.
The actual ride was pretty bland. A nice concrete form of limbo. No wonder so many people die in ambulances. It's just that they're kind of boring. You know, holding on to life is hard work. It's difficult to see what's worth hanging on to in this world sometime. Really beautiful flowers or blue lakes or great sex or amazing food, those make you want to hold on to life. If you're just staring at a ceiling with a bunch of awkwardly fitted plastic strips and round repetitive lights. You just start to think: I'm holding on to this?
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And now? Grading, grading and more grading. Ahhh final exams. Hope you're finding lots of....
peace~
...
On Saturday night, a premiere performance of one of my ten minute plays, The Smart Ones went up to a packed house. The lead actress was fantastic. The directing was spot on. The other two characters were very solid. All of this is a relief. You feel so nervous giving up your creative children for other people to nourish and develop, but they did great. Ultimately, the performance was so good, that it illuminated the dramatic holes that I couldn't see before. Which is (big picture) very gratifying and (immediate picture: sitting there in the audience, having been singled out as a present playwright) a little bit embarrassing. I'm focusing on the big picture on this one.
....
Saturday afternoon found Lynn and I riding in the Ambulance strapped to plastic boards side by side. It was a genuinely enjoyable experience. Not the glass-shattering, whiplash-inducing, rear-ending, or the split second wondering of whether this car accident will propel you into a different reality, and not discomfort of those backboards (ultimately more painful than the accident), but the opportunity to get a close up view of the near-death experience while not actually being anywhere near death.
The paramedics call their way down through the longest checklist imaginable. It runs through your own personal medical history, social security numbers, through all your vital statistics, and down to the mileage on the ambulance which is like the meter on your cab (which you realize that you will be fighting about with your insurance company in a month, waiting on hold to talk t someone's manager so you can argue that you did not in fact, choose to take the ambulance just for a good time. The numbers dialogue between the paramedics was all so practiced and timed and pervasive, that you came to think that it was a long incantation that was a precursor to starting the ambulance on its quest.
The actual ride was pretty bland. A nice concrete form of limbo. No wonder so many people die in ambulances. It's just that they're kind of boring. You know, holding on to life is hard work. It's difficult to see what's worth hanging on to in this world sometime. Really beautiful flowers or blue lakes or great sex or amazing food, those make you want to hold on to life. If you're just staring at a ceiling with a bunch of awkwardly fitted plastic strips and round repetitive lights. You just start to think: I'm holding on to this?
...
And now? Grading, grading and more grading. Ahhh final exams. Hope you're finding lots of....
peace~
posted by Redbaerd at 11:34 PM
3 Comments:
They could put a painting of flowers or a lake on the ceiling to give hope to the dying. They could feed you a little, or have a specially made air freshener that smelled like a gourmet meal. But if you're BOTH on the backboards . . .
It wasn't a real trip. You could have talked them into letting one of you free. I know you could have. You're very persuasive.
my ambulance ride was much better, of course i wasn't strapped to a backboard. i was semi-sitting in the back yukking it up with the paramedic, while the female paramedic in the front was comforting Marianne. Of course, for me the big trouble was explaining to all the neighbors about my near death experience...
and the insurance picked it up with nary a phone call!
I hope someone videotaped the play--I'm really anxious to see it!!
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