Posts Tagged Tree
I had an appointment with the doctor today. She is in a new building, which I think is beautiful in a subtle way, not that she’s there but the building is beautiful. I had to go to the top floor and wait in the reception area.
In the old building, I sat in a Psychology Department mail room in one of two chairs and said hi to all of the nice people who always glanced at me with a troubled look. (I like to think it is because I didn’t brush my hair, but I think it is because they don’t think I’ll make it – Luckily, they’re just students.) So in the old place, I always felt like I was at home in an old musty INSTITUTION, just where I needed to be but not locked in. The only disturbing thing was that they had a sign at the entrance of the Buddhist Garden that said “Under 24-Hour Surveillance – Vandals will be prosecuted.” I think if Buddha saw that sign, he’d vandalize the garden for the fun of it.
Today, I felt like I was going into an empty, sterile place dropped out of the 50’s (mind you I am not trained as an architecture critic – I just admire the stuff from afar), and I had a feeling that if I went in, they would take my brain out and freeze it, which would almost be as bad as a lobotomy, but more successful. At any rate, while having these thoughts, I noticed with peculiar delight the two “Do Not Enter” signs which must be the most ill-situated signs of all time, not due to the message to the patient, but because these signs completely ruin the feel of the architecture. If I were the architect, I would come over at midnight and rip them out with my Dodge truck:
And the tallest tree in the background of this next shot, beyond the walking bridge (why do we need those anyway? In case it gets below 40 Fahrenheit?) is the one that I thought was dead like my spirit was in April, but both it and I are doing better:
And here is the view I was afforded as I was leaving – I worked a lot of years in the twin tower on the left, but they disposed of me without so much as a wink, which tends to diminish my level of self-respect:
And then there is this last view – If it were two stories shorter and didn’t have that appendage on the right, I’d swear it was a high school building from the late 50’s, and I think, you know what that means? The 60’s are coming soon. Hang tight!
OK, I’m no photojournalist, but boy was this building singing such a woeful tune to me today.
(Inspired by Eddie Vedder)
I was coming to like I did one time on a splintery bench, still dressed in armor, in the middle of the third period of a hockey game, except this time my nose was not broken. The room was all white. There must have been other colors. The surgery tools were not white. I was not in there for surgery. No, it was an emergency room and when I began to see these foggy red clouds and the room tilted up and then down away from me, I wondered why the bed did not coast to the bottom of the room with the tilt. I was surprised at not being belted. I’ve had a belt every time but not this one. Rookie ER. At the bottom of the room, people were outside the windows looking in at me. Suddenly zoo. I was in a zoo and they were entertained by me. They did have white coats on. No, it was a mental hospital, and on cue, my psychologist, Lisa, she was on top of my bed on her hands and knees and quickly, her right hand, open-palmed, was heading for my face. She was working to restrain me, but I wasn’t going anywhere, so I was back down flat on the bed. Fully cooperative. Puzzled. Why was Lisa here and perhaps more pertinent was this driving need to know what was happening in my life before I got to this position in this wimpy hospital.
Lisa asked me a stream of questions. Many were sounds like blurry horns with baggies until she asked, “Have you been drinking?”