Come Into My Office

James Spader helps his secretary learn the pleasures of
good grammar, in The Secretary

Now don't mind me, it's just that,
vipers define me and I never thought
it'd be this way.

-- Certain things you ought to know, Destroyer

I stepped onto the oversized vinyl matt , activating the doors to the emergency ward, and finally took a breath of air untainted by the stink of disease. It was 430 in the morning, I looked over at the two patients smoking in half tied gowns, navigating their cigarettes through an intricate network of plastic tubing. I tore of my id bracelet, ripped the tape from my hand, removed the two bandages at the joint of my arm, and bought a Frutopia from the vending machine. I am strong. I am healthy. I am alive.

I awoke three hours later to the sound of children being murdered in Russia on my radio. Innocent children, if not murdered then certainly terrorized. I got up, pulled on my pants, surveyed the damage that my arm had suffered from a night of poking and prodding with several needles, and ordered a Chai Latte from the coffee shop downstairs. Watching people hurry to work, I thought about whether or not I could go through with my plans for the evening.

Sipping my paper cup, in the hazy air of a morning in between seasons, I had a flashback from hours earlier. I was in the hospital, the pain in my gut so bad, and unable to bare it any longer, I lay on the extra wide floor of the hallway adjacent to the waiting room, the cool, clean floor, soothing my cheek. Gurneys rolled by, one after the other, I passed out. I felt someone kick my arm with their foot, "hey, are you low?" I was finally put in a bed, given some morphine, had some x-ray's taken, and some blood drawn, yet I still remain a mystery.

I ate soup all day and thought about the week that had unfolded. Evening approaching, I looked at restaurant listings on the bus. At home I looked at concert listings while I was on the toilet checking my messages. Nothing seemed right, it can wait another day. I rode my bike around the water, and bought another can of consomme soup. Cycling through the floating wafts of perfume from the diners rushing to their tables, I arrived home. It felt cozy, and I found what I was looking for. Then I watched a movie about the benefits of pain and suffering. It was called, The Secretary.