Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Ode to Ocarina

Dear Katherine,

I broke it.

The string got stuck upon the corner of the table as i swiveled in excitement at finding a website that would slowly make a clay musician out of me. It took half a moment to smash upon my ceramic floor.



So sorry.

I still wander why i didn't just attend your graduation when you invited me too. It didn't matter that we were apart. Being there would have.

I remember you. Not always. Not even often. But i remember you. You were a bit crazy. Crazy enough to think that you could change for someone, craziness that made you believe that such a thing would be worth it. It isn't.

Hope you are well, married and happy. Not necessarily in that order.

Remember that leaf, with the ink on it?

I do.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Ordinary things.

Days are filled with moments collected for that conversation. A conversation that explodes from a dormant reservoir of an unshared biography. Moments that are characteristically silent and coloured with the narrowed aperture of eyelids as the spirit focuses it's energy to take an inner photograph in all the dimensions that only an imperfect memory can capture. Which is then stored away, and forgotten indefinitely until it reappears during 'that' conversation.

About filipino chicken feet.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Politics.

Definitions are important when they rest on something that resembles truth and have the quality of being unquestionably obvious. A doctor is defined by their inclination to care for patients. In absence of this simple impetus the role, however monolithically revered by society should erode and dissolve in a vacuous mess of pretense.

Hospital medical administration is defined in a similar manner. It breaks my heart to hear a good friend assert 'they don't care' as if it were an accepted given. We define them.

So i wrote a document with the desire to affect change. A document that was one part diagnosing the particulars of ineffective administration and 3 parts pragmatic suggestions for improvement. Diction was mindfully tempered by a consistent theme of diplomacy but inadequacies were presented adequately blunt to reflect a palpable dissatisfaction that was several generations deep. Said document found it's way up to the meta-administration that is the nebulous locus of administrative control, whom in turn forwarded a directive to not discuss the entire content in absence of appropriate 'executives' being in attendance.

I was summoned to meet with the Medical Director to discuss the 'Bigger than Ben-Hur' nature of my document. Meetings without a clear agenda are like a blood test for anaemia. Repeated tests only yield the same conclusion and quite fragrantly leaves the problem unfixed. I don't like meetings. Would sooner bake a cake.

Rhetoric based on an insidious employment of corporate jargon to confound and dissolve the gravity of a real problem that affects a multitude of doctor's lives and their families and ultimately patients, deserves rhetoric with more substance. Please don't knowingly use terms i don't (need to) understand to attain empty levity in argument and alleged authority on subject matter, because it's quite obvious, suffocatingly myopic and blatantly deceitful. Doctor's are aware of the dubious power that speaking a foreign language in 'English' yields, so let's not play that game.

Politics is vexing. But necessary to alter the status quo. Now is unfortunately not the time to make that change. I will wait until this wee fire burns big enough to not be put out by the wind outside but be fed by it.

I have spoken enough for now, so will return to listening for a while until my next eruption of consciousness.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Grapes.

Ceramic bowl sits stationary with an absence of grapes. Grapes that are no more, and probably busy reincarnating amidst the nocturnal contents of my bowel. Change is constant, but then - what is constant? Something that is fixed, unchanged? A strange paradoxical comment that. So often offered as an unquestioned morsel of profundity during 3am conversations. It's true of course, any statement with the audacity to capture the ambiguous duality of things lies closer to the asymptote of truth than the dirty progeny of reason. Speaking of which, i haven't had one of those for a long while... 3am conversations.

Gladys is dead.

I'm not.

A near death experience keeps one honest. A blessing. Life is (potentially) short. So a fraudulent existence bathed in delusions of longevity, security, predictability and plethora of should-be is the antithesis of the way it can be and will be.

Will sleep now. Pause it all biologically for a wee while, until the eruption of possibility that tomorrow brings wake me up. It's gonna be fucking awesome.