December 2002

Loser Café

According to this week's Stranger, all the café competition on 15th is between Victrola & Caffe Ladro, & a very silly article it was too. I think what annoys (me) most is their (young journalists These Days) a-historical ignorance—but the fact is, the article was a tempest in a cup. And the emptier it is here at the (infra dig) Starbuck's, the better I like it—I have already put in a lifetime of overhearing silly conversations.

Today I went to the U. District & bought underpants. Out on the Ave I saw Judy Solomon’s consort (husband?). from the neighborhood. Then I rode a bus downtown & saw J.S. herself at the library, and—you won't believe this—in between I saw Arlene P., looking, as ever, like a hippie witch.

[Then, Hilda-harassed, I got up & left the 15th Ave Starbucks. 24 hours later, more or less I sit down again, this time on Broadway. Same order: short drip for here & side of ice water.]

Sunday & all the cafés are December-full. I took my walk north on Federal, up over Cemetery lane (between the GAR & Lakeview burying grounds) & back along 15th wondering if my feet were going to hurt...they did not, but my hands got cold, despite gloves. (Didn't seem that cold, but it's still stagnant-air damp.)

And all I wanted, even yesterday, was to write down my dreams from last Friday.

1) I was up in the penthouse/attic floor of a skyscraper (in SF maybe), an unfinished loft/garret type high-ceilinged space with Fred. I was sitting in the cupola/overhang & suddenly thinking, looking down through the (port-hole?) windows down down that it might not be entirely safe & as I scuttled backwards on my bottom, Fred stepped over to one of the skylight windows & dove through. I realized that there wasn't a platform just below, nor a parapet & he wasn't just playing a joke. I got down to the next floor (a sort of sky lobby) & tried to get somebody to call the police. I knew (could hear screams or shouts from outside?) that F. met pavement. I was in shock & woke up. 3 a.m.

2) Some heavy cleaning taking place & a huge spider came running out. How huge?—Big as a tarantula (hand span) & it was furry & red. I was following it, trying to keep it in view until somebody could get a jar (?!) to capture it & put it outside. The whole thing was too much hassle, so I woke up.

Bway Starbucks 12/8/02

Dad?

As we wash our hands, from a cubicle, sort of a node off the central nursing station, the nurse calls for us to come in & there in a rolling bed is Dad like a dead knight on a tomb. Only with tubes everywhere. He still had a breathing tube, and was just coming out of the anesthesia. His eyelids fluttered when we spoke to him. His feet were yellowy-brown (from the Betadine scrub) & looked like they could belong to Lazarus. It was hard to see him like that.

They said he came through very well.

I guess the main immediate danger is stroke.

*

Did I tell you that Dad went into the hospital with chest tightness & an angiogram showed narrowing in all the major coronary arteries. He went in Saturday night—waiting till after dinner. So now he's had a bypass, five-way.

The other news is that he has a 13 cm mass on his left, his sole remaining kidney. We're not worrying about that until he recovers from the heart surgery.

15th Starb's 12/17/02

Out

Out in the dark. Out in the drizzly rain. Out for coffee.

Out with the old (Ring out Wild Bells.) The best thing about this year was its symmetry.

I got to the ocean & that was good. All the rest was negative or null. I didn't end up on the street. I didn't quit smoking, either but almost. I didn't sell anything or finish anything. (Did I?)

*

I went swimming once. I gained several pounds of ugly flab. I found an old friend (Jean).

But I lost Lee. Not to death, to Kalamazoo.

Wasn't expecting anything good—except in the most secret way (secret even from me).

I lost my Aunt Charlotte but not my dad Ozzie (yet)...however, I feel like we've been put on notice.

Well, of course, what do you expect? (something good secretly?) Fritz is losing his dad Robin to dementia & Vicki's mom Pat Nelson died just last week.

I may be losing much of my acuteness too. Oh, let it go.

2002 had too many trips to Tacoma & 2003 doesn't promise any improvement.

I don't make prediction any more. I don't look any further forward than next week.

15th Ave «Bucks 12/31/02