Every hour the doormen switch from the back gate to the front door. The majority of patrons come in through the front entrance on Shattuck while the waiters, runners, and bartenders go for their cigarette breaks out towards the back alley of Allston. While the Jupiters employees neurotically inhale coffin nails, I play solatiare on my Ipod. I shuffle through most of the deals, only accepting a quarter. An ace or two with an even mix of black and red cards must show up before I start; if you're gonna play with yourself you better have a good hand.
At 1:30 Matt, or one of the other black shirted bartenders, will emerge from the bar, step out to the patio, and shout, "Last call for alcohol!" The other doorman and I lock the gates, close the windows, and pick up random pint glasses. By quarter of two, most of the patrons have left. Those that haven't get a second warning, "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."
My twin brother closes the bar down a couple nights a week, and Monday night, after I'd turned off the patio lights, he poured me a Racer 5 while he finished stacking the glasses.
"I'll be graduating in the spring Matt, with an Economics and Business Management degree. After that, I'm gonna have to get a job, a house, a car. I'll be slaving away to repay my student loans, my medical bills, and a fucking mortgage. I'll gain twenty pounds and won't ever climb again."
"No complaining at the bar," Matt started wiping down the wood counter.
"That old man sobbed earlier."
"The guy at the end of the bar? Phil, the human walrus? He's been coming here for years. You could wring a pint of Red Spot out of his mustache." The upstairs lights were shut off and the bar darkened. "I wasn't listening to him. He was ordering a beer and got teary cause the keg of Red Spot was dry. Besides, I'd cut my shoulder off before I'd let him cry on it."
"Oh. But what am I gonna do? I suck as a climber, and there's no way I could write for a living."
Matt snatched my glass, tilting his swollen nose down at me. Two days prior he'd been in a Muay Thai fight. Though he'd fought well, he'd received a TKO; he'd been bleeding profusely from a small cut on his nose. It was a bad decision by the referee. "Life's a disappointment," He placed two beers on the bar and drank with me. "And in the morning it's a hangover. Let's go see if the Pasand Lounge is still open.
Fortunately, the other bar hadn't closed yet. The bar stool swayed uncontrollably as I climbed on to it. There was a small karaoke stage and a pale thirty year old relived his glory days in the corner, singing the Cure. A head fell onto my shoulder, and an arm caressed my bicep.
"Looks like someone likes you James," Matt smiled. The Asian girl next to me was barely on her stool.
"Hey?" my mind shuffled through a series of bad pickup lines. "If I told you you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"
Matt's eyes rolled as the girl grabbed my arm tighter to keep from falling off the barstool. The bartender stared at her.
"I think you've had enough," he took her beer from her and placed it behind the bar.
Suddenly, there was serious Asian fury. "You, you can't take that!" The drunk girl grabbed an empty pint glass and threw it with Nolan Ryan speed at the mirror behind the bar. Glass sprayed across the room. The girl swiped her hand on the counter top, knocking a few more glasses over.
"Get the fuck out of my bar!" The bartender stared at the shards of glass strewn through the room. A bouncer ran up, grabbed the girl, and dragged her to the street. as the bartender picked up glass.
Matt plucked a piece of shrapnel from his beer, and downed the rest. "You couldn't afford a condom anyway. Let's go, there's a couple of pale ales back at the house." He tossed an extra bill to the bartender. "Be thankful this shit doesn't happy at Jupiters."
I stumbled behind, happy that, at least for a moment, life was exciting.
First Published with graphic in the Lattice Journal Novemeber 2007,
Making Monsters For My Friends
Es el titulo de un temazo de los Ramones, y me pareció apropiado nombrar esta entrada así.
Si porque habría un editor interesado en recopilar unas historietas de terror que hicimos hace poco mas de 10 años con Claudio Ramirez, Jorge Lucas y Fernando Calvi, entonces estoy retocando algunas de las paginas mas flojas.
Estos son algunos "bocetos del work in progress".
Blackzan ya volverá.
That too?!?
Yes, that too. I was explaining to a tacky acquaintance once about Lucas's heart condition, and she responded, "he has that wrong with him too?" She meant no real harm, but her words hurt me and I have not forgotten that conversation.
When Lucas was in the NICU after birth, the doctors detected a heart murmur. They did a heart echo and discovered that Lucas has a bicuspid aortic valve, which results in aortic insufficiency (AI). The aortic valve is supposed to have 3 leaves, but Lucas's valve has 2 fused together, making it bicuspid instead of tricuspid. Because the valve cannot fully close, it allows some blood to flow in the reverse direction, causing the detectable murmur. Lucas also has a small Patent Foramen Ovale (PFO), a small hole between the ventricles, which is common in babies (and actually all fetuses have), but it's supposed to close at birth, or shortly thereafter. Lucas's has not closed yet, but is very small. The cardiologist says it's not a problem as long as blood continues to flow from the left to the right ventricle. Yesterday, we were told that the left ventricle is slightly larger (1 mm) than average, so they will continue to watch that.
The cardiologist continues to stress that Lucas's heart condition is MILD. Every time we go, they always ask us if he ever turns blue (!!??!!) or sweats excessively. No, none of the above. At this point, they just want to monitor him every 6 months. The doctor always tells us to continue to treat him like a normal child, with no limitations. But, it is not recommended that he play football, wrestle or do power lifting when he's older. Oh shucks (please sense the sarcasm). In the future, he MAY require medication, and eventually (a few decades?) he MAY need to have his valve replaced, but he also may not. WE'RE NO WHERE NEAR THAT POINT. Nate's maternal grandfather had the same condition, didn't know about it until he was in his 60s, and lived into his 80s, so that gives us hope. But sitting in the cardiologist's office yesterday, with his CI processor on, I know people were thinking, "that too?" Yeah, that too. It hurts me very badly to think about it. I often want to cry when I meet new kids who are perfectly healthy. Even though I know it's ridiculous, I continue to wonder what I did wrong.
Hearing loss is not life threatening, but rather "lifestyle" threatening. The heart is a different story. But his hearing loss is a much bigger deal right now. It threatens communication, which is at the very center of human existence. We visit the audiologist at the "Center for Childhood Communication," not the "Center for Childhood Hearing." Our goal is to provide him with multiple ways to communicate, so that he doesn't miss out. That's why he has a cochlear implant. That's why we're learning to sign. That's why I'm home right now, teaching him to listen.
Progress with the CI is slow, but expected. Because of his age (13 months), I can't expect him to belt out words, considering he probably wouldn't be speaking even if he could hear! He continues to turn to loud sounds, and I constantly point to my ear and ask "Do you hear that?" I also try to talk constantly to him, to expose him to the spoken language he's missed for the past year of life, plus 8 months in the womb (he didn't spend 9 months there). I sandwich signs with words - say the word, say the word and sign it, say the word again. And, we're still meowing at the meow meows all the time (my favorite... it will never get old!). His speech therapist and teacher of the deaf are great. I look forward to speech therapy today for some new ideas.
I'm anxiously waiting for him to make more sounds though. He used to be so chatty, but it stopped around Christmas, and now (other than his crying/fussing sounds) he makes this one strange sound that's indescribable. It's a guttural sound, that sounds like he's clearing his throat, or sick, or choking or something. It's awful, and kind of embarrassing. My sister thought he was going to throw up, my grandmother thought he was choking, and others just don't know what he's doing. I can't wait until he gets rid of it.
I don't want Lucas to grow up too fast, but sometimes I wish I could see 10 years ahead, and know that everything will be alright... that he can talk, that he can walk (not quite there yet), that his CI is successful, that his heart is still on "monitor-only" status. But I know I can't, so I continue to cling to hope and lots of CI success stories to help me through.
When Lucas was in the NICU after birth, the doctors detected a heart murmur. They did a heart echo and discovered that Lucas has a bicuspid aortic valve, which results in aortic insufficiency (AI). The aortic valve is supposed to have 3 leaves, but Lucas's valve has 2 fused together, making it bicuspid instead of tricuspid. Because the valve cannot fully close, it allows some blood to flow in the reverse direction, causing the detectable murmur. Lucas also has a small Patent Foramen Ovale (PFO), a small hole between the ventricles, which is common in babies (and actually all fetuses have), but it's supposed to close at birth, or shortly thereafter. Lucas's has not closed yet, but is very small. The cardiologist says it's not a problem as long as blood continues to flow from the left to the right ventricle. Yesterday, we were told that the left ventricle is slightly larger (1 mm) than average, so they will continue to watch that.
The cardiologist continues to stress that Lucas's heart condition is MILD. Every time we go, they always ask us if he ever turns blue (!!??!!) or sweats excessively. No, none of the above. At this point, they just want to monitor him every 6 months. The doctor always tells us to continue to treat him like a normal child, with no limitations. But, it is not recommended that he play football, wrestle or do power lifting when he's older. Oh shucks (please sense the sarcasm). In the future, he MAY require medication, and eventually (a few decades?) he MAY need to have his valve replaced, but he also may not. WE'RE NO WHERE NEAR THAT POINT. Nate's maternal grandfather had the same condition, didn't know about it until he was in his 60s, and lived into his 80s, so that gives us hope. But sitting in the cardiologist's office yesterday, with his CI processor on, I know people were thinking, "that too?" Yeah, that too. It hurts me very badly to think about it. I often want to cry when I meet new kids who are perfectly healthy. Even though I know it's ridiculous, I continue to wonder what I did wrong.
Hearing loss is not life threatening, but rather "lifestyle" threatening. The heart is a different story. But his hearing loss is a much bigger deal right now. It threatens communication, which is at the very center of human existence. We visit the audiologist at the "Center for Childhood Communication," not the "Center for Childhood Hearing." Our goal is to provide him with multiple ways to communicate, so that he doesn't miss out. That's why he has a cochlear implant. That's why we're learning to sign. That's why I'm home right now, teaching him to listen.
Progress with the CI is slow, but expected. Because of his age (13 months), I can't expect him to belt out words, considering he probably wouldn't be speaking even if he could hear! He continues to turn to loud sounds, and I constantly point to my ear and ask "Do you hear that?" I also try to talk constantly to him, to expose him to the spoken language he's missed for the past year of life, plus 8 months in the womb (he didn't spend 9 months there). I sandwich signs with words - say the word, say the word and sign it, say the word again. And, we're still meowing at the meow meows all the time (my favorite... it will never get old!). His speech therapist and teacher of the deaf are great. I look forward to speech therapy today for some new ideas.
I'm anxiously waiting for him to make more sounds though. He used to be so chatty, but it stopped around Christmas, and now (other than his crying/fussing sounds) he makes this one strange sound that's indescribable. It's a guttural sound, that sounds like he's clearing his throat, or sick, or choking or something. It's awful, and kind of embarrassing. My sister thought he was going to throw up, my grandmother thought he was choking, and others just don't know what he's doing. I can't wait until he gets rid of it.
I don't want Lucas to grow up too fast, but sometimes I wish I could see 10 years ahead, and know that everything will be alright... that he can talk, that he can walk (not quite there yet), that his CI is successful, that his heart is still on "monitor-only" status. But I know I can't, so I continue to cling to hope and lots of CI success stories to help me through.
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