out out damned spot or my trip to the blood bank

as many of you know i am a poor impoverished artist. and if you didnt know, well i am, and more to the point am currently taking donations.

so, in a valiant effort to assuage my financial straits and make a token investment in the human race i decided to "give" blood. the last time i did this i was in the navy and not only was it not by choice i was not compensated for my time or fluid. talk about a cheap date. anyway, i trudge to the bloodbank which mercifully is only a couple blocks away. and that my friends is where my luck ends.

the place is packed with what i can only describe as people whose blood must be 90 proof or so loaded with drugs selling it would be trafficking in narcotics. after a brief interview where i had to prove not only that i am who i say i am but that i also live in this universe i was told to have a seat and would be called shortly. an hour or so later my name was called and i was ordered to report to booth #7 for additional intake and screening.

when i opened the curtain there sat the same lady i had spoken with earlier only now her smile was gone. she was all business, and there was only the barest hint of recognition in her eyes as i sat down and said "at last we meet again". "ARMS PLEASE" she said so i presented her with my two fine specimens. and she rolled them around grunted rolled them around some more poked prodded and finally said "i dont think we can take you"
"why not, im a reasonably healthy young man" (ok so i lied, im not young) but i digress. "because your veins are too thin" my whats are too what? this is something ive never been told before so i was a little confused. so i started pointing out various other veins on my arms that resemble nightcrawlers and she said "WE CAN *ONLY* USE THE VEINS IN THE INSIDE OF YOUR ELBOW, *SIR* (the sir added in a tone that indicated she'd rather have said dickhead) so i politely requested to be "examined" by someone with perhaps a bit more experience, warmer hands and/or better personality. after waiting so long i felt it was really my just due. so a few minutes later the resident nurse ratchet lumbered over grabbed my arms gave them a few perfunctory jabs with her index finger and pronounced me unfit for consumption. the nerve! now the original worker returned with a smug look and said "im sorry *SIR* (with the same subtle implication as before) WE CAN NOT TAKE YOUR BLOOD."

By now mere agitation is giving way to flat out hostility. the question then was 'to make a scene or not make a scene' while i was redressing myself (i had to remove my shirt which was demeaning- you'd understand if you'd ever seen me shirtless) i thought of thousands of witty and hateful remarks i could say. i thought of how i was clearly the best candidate for blood sucking these losers had seen in a fortnight, and that because of them little johnny with sickle cell anemia now stands even less a chance of survival, and how the drunk driver who just smashed through his car window would never know the joy of my blood pumping through his viens. but instead, i said 'thanks anyway'

THANKS ANYWAY?! for treating me like a used snotrag? what a jerk i am sometimes. anyway i left, but all was not lost because my friends alex and todd came to my rescue and fed me and kept the wolves from my door for one more day. and that's worth more than a pint of plasma.

Hell Is Other People

im listening to Cherubini's Requiem, for some reason requiem masses always put me in a creative mood. So this, my inaugural post, i will attempt to create out of thin air a purpose a raison d'etre as it were for taking up this miniscule section of the world wide web. i suppose that in the purest sense of reason my desire is to provide a slightly more tangible mark of my presence here in this most intangible electron circus. here i will pour out my hopes, dreams, and invective. and possibly offer some advice, critiques and gossip concerning the state of humanity as it continues its headlong dive into destruction. sidenote: this cherubini requiem is getting better and better. i do so enjoy gongs. note to reader: pick up a copy for yourself. anyway, back to business. reason? why am i here? do i have enough to say to keep myself interested and even more important do i have enough to say to keep you interested? we'll see. im downloading a number of requiems at the moment so if all goes well i'll post during each one. Tonight a fantastic movie: "espinazo del diablo" (aka the devil's backbone) year 2003. spooky ghost story by william the bull (aka guillermo del toro) set in the romantic era of the spanish civil war. a charming boys orphanage run by anti-franco communist sympathisers and one nefarious lothario, and haunted by santi a small murder victim who constantly leaks blood from a gash in his adorable little head. the highlight of the movie is the touching death scene of the headmistress when her friend and confidant held her dying in his arms and recited the following poem:

Stay by my side as my light grows dim
as my blood slows down and my nerves shatter with stabbing pain
as my heart grows weak and the wheels of my being turn slowly
Stay by my side as my fragile body is racked by pain
which verges on truth
and manic time continues scattering dust
and furious life bursts out in flames.
Stay by my side as I fade so you can point to the end of my struggle
and the twilight of eternal days at the low, dark edge of life.

the first time i saw this movie several years ago i wrote a copy of the poem and gave it to someone i had strong feelings for that one might consider to be love. the response was less than i expected and from that i learned a valuable lesson. love poems are only effective if they come from my heart not someone else's.