Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Weekend at the ER



















I wanted so bad for this to be the last trip in the ambulance

for grandpa, staying tuned, I was okay.

Emergency room is hard enough but being with my crazy Korean family?

I move away from them but there are walls that stop me,

emergency rooms should have no walls.

A camera crew would be great, there’s some serious drama going on, better

than the shit on Korean television I watch with momz,

KBS and MBC and South Korea eat your heart out you bore me.

My life is never boring.

This is how I deal,

even when dad passed.

This is just how I deal.

Don't mind me.

You go to sleep.

I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

I am me.

This is me,

don't worry.

There was a kid who came in who fell and was bleeding from his mouth while

my family was bleeding out, freaking out before my eyes.

Just another Saturday night.

I was cold and ridiculous dealing with nine crying Koreans.

And there were more on the way.

I was waiting for the family to start turning, on each other.

They suck but I do too sometimes.

My loser uncle and his loser wife showed up,

filling the room with loser vibes and loser germs.

Ew.

Some chick with a red mohawk had come in with her grungy boyfriend.

I think he overdosed.

I was supposed to be studying for exams coming Monday and Tuesday.

I am too OCD.

I thought I saw Tiger Woods but it's just someone who looked like him.

We had left grandma at home, poor thing but then not so poor.

America's Most Wanted was on the television not baseball,

I guess the Yankees had won?

My loser uncle and his loser wife had left after four minutes, I counted.

Probably left to go to grandpa's house and scavenge for his stash of cash.

Assholes. I had fantasized my grandma standing by the door with a rifle.

She should shoot them down one by one if they come for hidden cash.

I was so hungry is that weird?

When my dad died I had fucked all night.

But this time instead, I attacked a vending machine.

And I made sweet love to M&Ms and Golden Oreos.

The little boy with the busted mouth “wants to go home”.

He was not alone.

(Excerpts from Twitter on that night. Twitter proved to be my therapy and saving grace)

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