I Just Want To Be
A Tugboat Captain

2008-08-20T09:54:00.002-05:00

So I'm not home yet, but I am at least back to civilization. "Civilization" being the little coastal town of Cabarete. I have tons of pictures and video to sort through and post, but here's one of my favorites from this trip, taken during a home visit in the little Dominican village Los Rincones. I'll be home late tomorrow night and then working three 12-hour shifts at the hospital, so it might be a while before I do some real posting.

2008-08-08T20:20:00.002-05:00

So I'm getting up at 4am tomorrow to catch my flight to the Dominican Republic. I'm back in two weeks. See y'all later.

2008-08-08T08:39:00.004-05:00

WEEKLY PHOTO CHALLENGE: "BELVEDERE"
So like Kyklops, the very first thing I thought of when Glenn announced this week's theme was that banjo-playing dog from the Bugs Bunny cartoon. Oh, Bugs Bunny, isn't it bad enough that you've ruined Wagner for generations of children who will never be able to listen to "Flight of the Valkyrie" without hearing "Kill the wabbit, kill the wabbit"? Anyway, I been busy this week so here's a sampling of belvederes from my archives.

Joshua Tree National Park, California

Mount Mitchell State Park, North Carolina

The Salton Sea, California

Tree nursery in Guayajayuco, Dominican Republic

Amazon River, Peru

And of course the most bel of any vedere I've ever seen, Macchu Pichu. If you've never been, I highly recommend it. It really does live up to the hype and no pictures can ever do the vedere justice. It is so totally bel.

Also playing: Glenn and Kyklops and Bud and Bryan.

I'm leaving town tomorrow and won't have any Internets for two weeks, so I'm going to have to sit the next couple of photo challenges out. Glenn, you're in charge.

2008-08-04T22:16:00.000-05:00

2008-08-01T09:45:00.005-05:00

WEEKLY PHOTO CHALLENGE: "EPHEMERA"
Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to share with you one of my most treasured possessions: "Hello, I'm Johnny Cash"—The comic book! Yes, I know that makes two comic book photo challenge entries in a row, but come on, this is Johnny Cash.

I got it on eBay years ago. It was published in the early 70s by a Christian press, and its message is as valid today as it was 35 years ago: Jesus is the only drug you need.

Joining us this week: Glenn, Bud, Kyklops, Christy, Candy Sue and Bryan.

2008-07-30T16:33:00.004-05:00

So here's a story that's too weird to not be true. I'm sitting at home, minding my own business, when the doorbell rings. One of the housemates and I get to the door at the same time and there's this huge box sitting on the front porch with my name on it. Inside the box, in case you haven't guessed from the photo I've just posted of myself holding up a banjo, was a banjo. That's right, a motherfucking banjo. But wait, that's not the weird part. The weird part is I don't even know who it's from. Of course I immediately suspected Bud, but he swears it wasn't him. And I believe him, because Bud just moved to New Orleans and is even broker than I am. And this banjo was clearly not cheap.

So there you go. Some anonymous benefactor has gone and mailed me a banjo. A motherfucking banjo. I guess the universe really does work in mysterious ways. Of course I can't actually play it yet because I'm still missing two crucial items: a set of finger picks, and a book that explains how to play the banjo. But these are minor details. The takeaway from this blog post should be: holy shit, I suddenly, unexplainably own a motherfucking banjo!

Thank you, anonymous benefactor, whoever you are.

2008-07-29T06:17:00.004-05:00

So I went and volunteered for hurricane duty at work. What hurricane duty means is this: if there is a big hurricane heading for New Orleans, and the mayor (assuming we can find him) calls for an evacuation of the city, instead of leaving town I will be packing a bag and sleeping at the hospital for a few days. Or weeks.

I've heard plenty of horror stories from people who stayed behind at hospitals when Katrina hit. No electricity, no air conditioning, no running water, no toilets, no food. Patients on life support died, and the rest had to be carried up the stairwells one by one to the rooftops when the helicopters finally arrived a week or so after the fact. Many of those helicopters, by the way, were paid for by the hospitals themselves, who realized that the Federal Emergency Management Agency had better things to do than, you know, manage federal emergencies.

Why would I volunteer for this? Well, I didn't exactly. I mean, I did volunteer, but we've been promised by the hospital that things would be a little better if there were ever another Katrina. More generators, more water, more food, a better plan to move most patients out before the hurricane hits. It all sounds good on paper, but then again so did FEMA.

2008-07-28T05:37:00.000-05:00

So, there's work. How to talk about work without, you know, really talking about work? Because honestly, all my best stories, the ones I'd really like to be telling you, are blatant HIPAA violations.

I can say, though, that my job just wears me the fuck out. Okay, that may have been the most unoriginal statement ever to be posted to a blog anywhere, in the history of blogs. Oh, your job makes you tired? I see. How fascinating. What an unusual perspective on life you have. Do go on, do go on.

I'll try again: every single twelve-and-a-half-hour nursing shift on that med-surg floor is a non-stop, brain-frying, Class 5 Shit Storm. It's like trying to tread water for twelve hours straight while being pelted with garbage, only you also have to keep six or seven other people above water with you all day who are making absolutely no effort to swim themselves. Plus you have a phone clipped to your pants that rings every sixty seconds or so and oh, god help you if you don't answer it, even if you are elbow-deep in blood cultures and catheters and patients' relatives who stop by periodically to yell and poke you in the chest and tell you what an awful, awful nurse you are because you didn't make sure grandma got the brand of cereal she specifically asked for with her breakfast and I demand to speak to your supervisor and what the hell kind of hospital is this, anyway?

And yet, it does get better. When someone makes a movie about my nursing career (and they will, they will), my first six months will be represented by kind of a "montage" sequence that starts with me fucking up everything imaginable. You know, getting lost on the way to the blood bank, picking up the wrong kind of IV tubing in the supply room, getting Mr. Laborde's flu shot and Mrs. Kolchek's insulin mixed up with hilarious results.* I don't know where shit is, I forget what I'm doing, and the hospital's computer charting system is this insanely counterintuitive, convoluted, DOS-based nightmare designed around 1982 that, no joke, I've had actual nightmares about more than once. But towards the end of the montage, as in all montages, things start to turn around. I give blood transfusions, I hook up morphine pumps, I call doctors and rattle off lab results from memory, I even make friends with the ladies from dietary so Grandma always gets her Cheerios and not Corn Flakes. I actually start teaching the new nurses and even the odd medical student a thing or two about how things are done. It's all pretty awesome until the montage ends and we call a code blue on Grandma, who was actually really sweet in spite of her crazy-ass family, and the Cheerios don't get eaten.

Is it any wonder I nap so much?

*Note: This never actually happened, I swear. Also, those names are totally fake.

2008-07-25T07:33:00.006-05:00

WEEKLY PHOTO CHALLENGE: "TATTERDEMALION"
So I think when Glenn picked five-dollar word "tatterdemalion" for this week's theme, he expected us to be all stumped and scratching our heads and running for our dictionaries. But not me, oh no. Because I immediately remembered this long-forgotten, short-lived 1976 comic that I just happen to have in my possession. He's the tattered tatterdemalion (hello, department of redundancy department?)Also, he's the scourge of the ghetto lords. See?
He is Ragman, Tatterdemalion of Justice! Tremble in fear, criminals and ghetto lords!
See, Ragman is actually this guy who inherits a junk shop from his eccentric, estranged father, and when he goes to the junk shop, he discovers this creepy, hooded costume sewn together from rags in a secret closet. So, naturally he does what anyone would do in this situation: he puts on the costume and starts fighting organized crime. Also, he falls in love with an improbably-well-dressed prostitute named Opal. Who says comics are just for kids?

Ragman can do all kinds of amazing things, like taking apart a flying helicopter with his bare hands while being shot at with machine guns. You know, because he has a suit made of rags. Mark my words: Ragman, The Movie will be next year's The Dark Knight. Go ahead, mark them.

Joining us so far this week: Glenn. And Kyklops. And Bud. And Bryan.

Next week's theme: "Ephemera"

2008-07-23T06:22:00.000-05:00

2008-07-22T06:24:00.002-05:00

So there's this bar near my house that regularly features the work of local artists on its walls. For a mere $450, you can own this truly amazing copper-and-cast-wax sculpture of a box of fried chicken. I swear, if I weren't already saving up for a banjo...

2008-07-21T09:38:00.003-05:00

So here are some things that have happened in the last week:

My brother got married. To a lady. In a Catholic church. As best man, it was my job to hold the wedding rings on a little silver tray while the priest doused them with holy water. Yes, a little bit got on my hands, but the burns were minor and the skin grafts seem to be healing nicely. Also, another lesson in why you should never, ever leave the house without a camera: The notice that was Scotch-taped over the sink in the little waiting room behind the altar requesting that clergy please not pour the blood of our lord and savior down the drain. I don't know, I guess maybe it clogs the pipes or something.

My bike was stolen from the hospital parking lot. It was just a cheapo Wal-Mart thing that was kind of falling apart, but still. I can't really afford to replace it right now, even at Wal-Mart. I've had so many bikes stolen in this city that I've just started to think of them as disposable. If I pay 80 bucks for one and it lasts for a year or so, I feel like I've pretty much come out even. Anything longer than that is just lagniappe.

I booked a flight to the Dominican Republic for August 9th, and sent a big fat check to the medical mission I'll be working with there before I cross the border into Haiti. This is why I can't afford to replace the bike right now or buy that banjo I've been eyeing lately.

Here is a list of five songs I really like with banjo music in them:
All My Little Words—The Magnetic Fields
Baby, You Look Good To Me Tonight—The Starland Vocal Band
Why Are You Crying?—The Flying Burrito Brothers
Solitary Man—Crooked Fingers
Dead Skunk—Loudon Wainwright III
Seriously, I want a banjo really bad. And a pedal steel.

Bud and I painted my apartment and I think it looks great. Oh, and an aside to my landlord: is it okay if I paint the apartment? I'll totally do a good job, I promise.

I got a fifty-cent raise at work.

I was first in line for the first showing of The Dark Knight on Friday and it was so awesome that I can say, without fear of exaggeration, that its awesomeness literally melted my fucking face completely off.

I regret nothing.

2008-07-18T08:14:00.004-05:00

WEEKLY PHOTO CHALLENGE: "MUSIC"So when he's not pulling people out of burning buildings and kittens out of trees, my brother (on the left) plays music. He's been at it for over 20 years and is actually pretty well-known in New Orleans among people who pay attention to such things. He's played with dozens of local rock bands, blues acts and, back in the 80s, performed with visiting artists like Pat Benatar, A Flock Of Seagulls and The Psychedelic Furs, to name a few. He's recorded CDs and come close to signing big record contracts a few times. He wrote a song in the 90s that became a huge hit in the Netherlands (but nowhere else, for some reason) that he still gets royalty checks from. These days he mostly plays small clubs with friends, like in this shot I took of him at the Hi-Ho Lounge with Ruby Rendrag, another local star. Rock on, brother!

I picked my brother as the subject of this week's post because he's a musician, but also because he's getting married tonight. Congratulations, Ron. Not that you read my blog. You know, because I've never told you about it.

See also: Glenn and Kyklops and Bud and Christy.

UPDATE: Glenn says next week's theme is tatterdemalion. Whatever the F that is.

2008-07-15T07:27:00.002-05:00

So I love this view of this old church on St. Ferdinand by my house, with the palm trees. It always makes me feel like I'm in the Caribbean when I walk by. All that's missing is some ridiculously loud bachata and a chimi stand on the sidewalk. By the way, does anyone know why Blogger washes all the color out of your photos when you post them?

2008-07-14T14:24:00.008-05:00

So is this just a local, voodoo kind of thing we only do here in New Orleans, or has anyone else seen this in other parts of the world? A plastic bag filled with water and a penny, hung in a doorway to repel flies? Apparently the penny in the bottom of the bag is crucial. Anyone?

UPDATE: I just got this message from Dr. Robert, biology professor at Tulane University, that might shed some light on this subject.

"Dave-
I am so glad that I started reading your blog. I actually have something useful to contribute.
The use of half-filled plastic bags of water to repel flies is not a local phenomenon. It is in fact global, attesting to the conviction of its adherents. It is difficult to trace the history of such beliefs, but anecdotal accounts found online place the origin either in South America or in Mexico. There are variants of the practice, including suspending the bags in the wind and placing a scrap of aluminum foil of a bright coin in the water before sealing the bag. Some people also believe that the bags discourage all insects, not merely houseflies, and others feel that the bags repel birds, either instead of or in addition to flies.
There is also a lot of pseudoscientific nonsense circulating about light refraction and the fly's visual system, in an attempt to explain how the bags work. None of these explanations are based on any real scientific experimentation. The only scientific attempt to analyze the phenomenon that I could find was performed by Mike Stringham, an entomologist at North Carolina State University. His data strongly indicate that the bags do not repel flies. He actually measured a weak but statistically signifant attraction of flies by the bags. I am unsure whether these data were published, but they were presented at the 2007 meeting of the North Carolina Mosquito and Vector Control Association. This is only a single study, so obviously more experimentation is called for. Regardless what the results are, however, people being what they are, those who believe in the efficacy of the bags will likely continue to do so."

Thank you, Professor. So there you go. Live and learn.

2008-07-11T17:50:00.004-05:00

So as some of you may remember, I didn't get to go on my planned semiannual medical mission trip to the Dominican Republic and Haiti back in January because I was just finishing school, jobless and broke. Well, the summer mission is coming up and I've just booked a flight down to Hispaniola for two weeks in August. I'm really excited to go back. This is by far the longest I've gone without making this trip since I moved back to the States from the DR four years ago. I can't wait to see what kind of progress is being made with the Tilory clinic, the new Centre de Sante and the facility that Partners In Health was just breaking ground on the last time I was there. And of course I can't wait to see my friends Clemencia, Zuleika, Angela, Alcius, Anisaix, Yonatan, and all the Americanos on the mission, especially my companero Dr. Dave.

Dr. Dave just emailed me yesterday to tell me that he's been officially accepted by MSF (Medecins Sans Frontieres/Doctors Without Borders) and will be leaving on a 6-12 month trip to Africa this fall, although he doesn't know where in Africa his assignment will be yet. I'm more than a little jealous. A lot more than a little. If Dr. Dave had a blog, I'm sure it would be a lot more interesting than mine has been lately. For now I'll just have to happy with drinking a few Presidentes with him next month before he leaves.

Oh, and before I forget: That donate link to the right has not been seeing a whole lot of action lately. So, you know, if you were thinking about giving to a worthy cause, now would be a good time. Hint. Hint.

2008-07-11T08:00:00.006-05:00

WEEKLY PHOTO CHALLENGE: "MUNDANE"
What could be more mundane than two dogs behind a bar? Even if both dogs are clearly possessed by Satan? Also, don't miss: Glenn and Kyklops. And (yawn) NOLA Cleophatra. And Junk Thief.

Next week: Music.

2008-07-10T09:32:00.000-05:00

New Orleans. Where old meets older.

2008-07-05T11:16:00.000-05:00

2008-07-04T10:52:00.002-05:00

Yes, yes, I know, it's been nothing but sunshine and rainbows and pixie dust and Al Green and flowers and unicorns and Whitman's samplers around here for quite a while, and not much of substance. I mean, you know, that is, if you don't think love is interesting or substantial in any way. Or action figure museums. Or replicas of the Eiffel Tower in the middle of Texas with giant cowboy hats on them. In which case, well, I just feel sorry for you and your empty, empty life.

So, anyway. Bud is all settled in his temporary home in the Marigny, just a few blocks from my place, and looking for a job and a permanent residence. And I've been keeping busy these days too. Oh yes I have. Working at the hospital continues to get better and better as I gradually start to feel like I actually know what I'm doing. Even though there are still situations that leave me a little speechless, like discovering that one of my Alzheimer's patients had been hoarding food in his closet for nearly a week. Oy, what a stink that was, let me tell you.

In family news, my mom recently came out of the closet to me as an atheist. I've suspected this about my mom for a long time now, but I think it's nice that she finally feels comfortable saying it out loud. For someone who grew up being beaten by nuns in a Catholic school, it was kind of a big step. She's just loaned me a copy of The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie. I don't even know what the book is about yet really, just that it caused a huge religious controversy when it was released back in the 80's, so yeah, go Mom. I mean, at least she's not spending her old age sitting around doing sudokus and watching Walker, Texas Ranger.

In other family news, my brother's wedding is two weeks away and his bachelor party is tonight. I've got to get busy gift-wrapping fifty porn movies I snagged from the housemate's (NSFW) overflowing box of samples. I'm making Bud come over to help me. Damn, but it's nice having a boyfriend.

2008-07-02T05:38:00.001-05:00

2008-06-30T20:49:00.001-05:00

2008-06-29T19:44:00.000-05:00

2008-06-27T06:10:00.003-05:00

So I know it's supposed to be Photo Challenge Friday and the theme is "Women", but in case I haven't mentioned it earlier, I'm leaving for Oklahoma this morning to go fetch Bud and bring him back to New Orleans. Not surprisingly, women are about the last thing on my mind right now. But I did manage to dig up this photo of some New Orleans ladies. If I remember correctly, they were singing "Going To The Chapel Of Love" when this was taken, which I guess would explain the bridal wear.

Anyway. I'll be gone a few days, and then I'll have some road trip pictures. My goal is to photograph every Stuckey's on the drive from Oklahoma City to New Orleans.

2008-06-26T05:37:00.001-05:00

One more day!

I Just Want To BeA Tugboat Captain

I Just Want To Be
A Tugboat Captain