Saturday, June 06, 2009

June 6, 2009

Today is June 6, 2009, the 65th anniversary of D-Day. None of my ancestors served in the European theater of World War 2 (my grandfather Richard Faith Sr. worked in an airplane factory at the time while my other grandfather George F. Clarke was an MP at a POW camp in Sheffield, PA). But my father Donald Clarke served at an Air Force Base in Evreux-Fauville, Normandy from 1960-64. Ironically, in the early 1960s, he stumbled onto the Normandy coast during one of his leaves and witnessed the filming of The Longest Day. Ironically, while I knew the story of his witnessing the creation of that film, I didn't know which film it was until I found out the info from a recent delivery order from Alan's Alley video store in Chelsea, which carries the DVD (and who had better not be begging for any more free promos on this blog).

I only had a 4 day workweek this past week because of a regularly scheduled doctor's appointment on Friday, June 5. I put in nearly the maximum hours allowed for a 5 day workweek this week. Between that, exhaustion from carrying a way-oversized item for over 2 hours in Manhattan, severe sinus pressure, and a major eye infection, I spent most of Friday not in the 4th Floor of Coney Island Hospital, but in the Emergency Room. I have had at least 74 visits to either the Group 4, Dermatology, or eye clinics at Coney Island Hospital since 1998. And as of yesterday, I have now had 4 visits to their emergency room- 3 of which have involved painful IV treatments. Yesterday, I got the IV put only to find out 3 hours later that I never needed it in the first place. And because I was not discharged from the emergency room until well after the hospital's pharmacy had closed, I can't even get the medicine they prescribed me until Monday at the earliest.

So naturally, I have spent most of today at home in Brooklyn recovering from sore nose, sore eyes, sore throat, sore left side of my face, and a sore left arm from where the IV was. Facebook being what it is, I posted that I was in the ER yesterday. I got an instant message from one of my sister's friends, Dana Twaddle, whom I haven't seen in person since my father's funeral in 1995. I got the usual concerned call from my sister. I even got into an extended chat with Steve Peak, whom I haven't seen in person since his wrong turn on the 2 train in 1999. The lack of responses from other, more local friends is disheartening. I moved back to New York to be the most alone guy at the holding area of the Coney Island ER? Steve says I should find a wife, but I doubt any sane woman would want someone with all the baggage I have. Right now, I don't even have an emergency contact for work or hospital. While waiting for the test results that drained all that blood out of me, I wondered what would happen if I didn't make it out of there alive. The answer, not much. So much for the last surname descendant of Stillman Clarke.

And to close this totally non-linear blog post, here are the concluding lyrics of the last song recorded by the KLF/Justified Ancients of Mu Mu on this, the 65th anniversary of D-Day and the last year of the very fucked up (and getting worse) first decade of the 21st Century:

O Trinity of love and power!
Our brethren shield in danger's hour;
From rock and tempest, fire and foe,
Protect them wheresoe'er they go;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on that perilous sea!
The grace of Lord Jesus Christ be with you all, Amen.

Fuck the Millenium!

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