what's serenity? a couple of days ago, per obnoxious state guidelines prohibiting regular phone refills on certain narcs, i went in to get a script renewal on my Xanax. my doctor is decidedly bad ass, and aside from bullet points on my general anxiety level, our conversation took us to some sort of "wise man on top of a mountain" notion, as in what would you ask such a sage if you ever met him. how the hell do i know? if someone could give me The Answers, i'd have a scroll going: is there a God, what's "beyond" the Universe, where did that prick really go that one time he dropped me off at the train station, will i EVER have an idea for a best-selling novel??? if someone could just answer those questions - for starters - i feel like i might finally get a solid night's sleep.
speaking of doctors and scripts and peace makes me think of serendipitous swimmer's ear. one summer when i was maybe 18 or so, i got such bad swimmer's ear from paddling around in lakes upstate that i had to go see a doctor or i feared i'd certainly go deaf. my regular doc was out, so i sat patiently waiting for his stand-in, who by the looks of his really stuffy sounding name, i imagined would be an old dying white dude. imagine my great and wondrous joy when in walked a young Rasta stud only a few years removed from me in youth, wearing the most glorious Italian leather shoes i had ever seen. it turned out that i was unfortunately allergic to amoxycillin, but the young md and i became fast friends that summer in order to discuss further implications therein. every day, after his practice, he'd roll the biggest doob i'd ever seen.
i just googled him and it turns out that he tends to a very successful practice in Minnesota, so i guess that's a relationship i won't be rekindling any time soon. as far as i know, the stress levels of Saint Paul lie far below ones in any way associated with Brooklyn, so wherever you are, Doc, big ups and boy do i miss you.
speaking of doctors and scripts and peace makes me think of serendipitous swimmer's ear. one summer when i was maybe 18 or so, i got such bad swimmer's ear from paddling around in lakes upstate that i had to go see a doctor or i feared i'd certainly go deaf. my regular doc was out, so i sat patiently waiting for his stand-in, who by the looks of his really stuffy sounding name, i imagined would be an old dying white dude. imagine my great and wondrous joy when in walked a young Rasta stud only a few years removed from me in youth, wearing the most glorious Italian leather shoes i had ever seen. it turned out that i was unfortunately allergic to amoxycillin, but the young md and i became fast friends that summer in order to discuss further implications therein. every day, after his practice, he'd roll the biggest doob i'd ever seen.
i just googled him and it turns out that he tends to a very successful practice in Minnesota, so i guess that's a relationship i won't be rekindling any time soon. as far as i know, the stress levels of Saint Paul lie far below ones in any way associated with Brooklyn, so wherever you are, Doc, big ups and boy do i miss you.
