THE ELEPHANT MARRAIGE
They wheeled me out of the xray room with two cracked vertebre and a bad case of constipation. I was one lucky motherfucker. Leaning on Mrs. Y and Christmo the elder I got in the car and we all drove home. Every bump sent a teeth grinding shock up my spine. By the time we got home I was drenched in sweat and felt like i was going to pass out. Two days later i was so backed up from the painkillers i called Bimmy to ask how I could get things moving again. "X-lax and apple juice." he said and sent me a post card of a bronze surfer holding a 20 foot board. "Bet that turd's as big as this board, huh?" he scrawled on the back.
For the next couple of months i would hobble around the house in a molded plastic brace and feel sorry for myself. I couldn't work. Mrs. Y watched after me for a couple of days, then she went back to work in town. I had had tunnel vision for 4 years, commuting working, working and commuting. It took a broken back to get me to sit down and take stock. All talk of breaking up ceased. The pity factor kicked it and I worked it for all I was worth. "Honey. Could you fluff these pillows for me? I have this itch I can't reach. Ought oh. I dropped my pen. I'm a little thirsty. Honeeeey?" Mrs. Y played along just so far. Then her BPD (border line personality disorder) would kick in and we'd be off to the races...broken back or not.
I had so much time to think i had to find something to think about. My neighbors were selling a little school house down the road. It had been for sale for a while, but all of the sudden i thought I should buy it. My idea was to make it into a conceptual art school. Every day i picked up my cane, and walked down the hill to talk to the old couple. It only took a month to borrow the money and set a price. i called El Prof out in Cali and asked if he could get the art institute interested. To my surprise they were. I became obsessed with starting this school. After the broken back I couldn't climb the stairs to sleep in the loft. I now slept in the guest room. Our marraige was crumbling but neither of us could face looking at the beast. "I'm not an animal. I'm a.....a..... a marraige."
For the next couple of months i would hobble around the house in a molded plastic brace and feel sorry for myself. I couldn't work. Mrs. Y watched after me for a couple of days, then she went back to work in town. I had had tunnel vision for 4 years, commuting working, working and commuting. It took a broken back to get me to sit down and take stock. All talk of breaking up ceased. The pity factor kicked it and I worked it for all I was worth. "Honey. Could you fluff these pillows for me? I have this itch I can't reach. Ought oh. I dropped my pen. I'm a little thirsty. Honeeeey?" Mrs. Y played along just so far. Then her BPD (border line personality disorder) would kick in and we'd be off to the races...broken back or not.
I had so much time to think i had to find something to think about. My neighbors were selling a little school house down the road. It had been for sale for a while, but all of the sudden i thought I should buy it. My idea was to make it into a conceptual art school. Every day i picked up my cane, and walked down the hill to talk to the old couple. It only took a month to borrow the money and set a price. i called El Prof out in Cali and asked if he could get the art institute interested. To my surprise they were. I became obsessed with starting this school. After the broken back I couldn't climb the stairs to sleep in the loft. I now slept in the guest room. Our marraige was crumbling but neither of us could face looking at the beast. "I'm not an animal. I'm a.....a..... a marraige."
posted by mike osterhout at 8:34 AM
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