2/15/09

driving home from the blood run


On Sundays I do 'the blood run'. Sounds horrible doesn't it? Try as I may, substituting 'lab run' just hasn't stuck. It is THE BLOOD RUN. In the winter a small clinic is open for injured skiers and to the public in general and the taxi place is contracted to pick up 'lab samples' which are taken via a cooler to the hospital in Morrisville. I'm the person doing it. It takes me just over an hour and I make, after taxes something like $8.51. It is usually the only thing I do, no rides that day because the dispatcher and I don't understand each other and I'd rather not deal.

Today I decided to bring my camera to see if I could wake my dull self up. To see if I could find anything worthy of a photograph. I don't feel I did. I kind of did but it was harder than I thought it would be to stop and take pictures in the cab because even in rural Vermont idiots are out there driving on every road like bats out of hell. God forbid I stop and try to focus on anything. These were all taken while driving, literally. Only the first photo was at a stop but I was harried by other cars turning and being unsettled at a cabbie sticking a camera out the window. I sigh. I feel annoyance at humanity and search for beauty.


I see and feel desolation. I've never experienced a place like Vermont. After having lived here now four and a half years I am beginning to wonder where I will go next. I feel stuck here, but I might feel stuck anywhere because I am stuck in my life. How much is the dreaded pre-menopause, which I really think contributes to the flatness I feel. I hate to throw hormones into the mix but I'm 47. I've lived hard. My body is still reeling and I may be up for a bumpy ride. How much is from poverty? I made just under $7,000 last year. How much is from being stuck in my creative world, not knowing where or what. How much is from the bleakness I see everyday. The poverty. Stowe isn't real. It is a bubble filled with tourists heads floating around mixing with the uber rich 2nd home owners or hedge fund moguls. Drive just 10 miles out of town and you see the barns falling apart. The yards filled with rusted out autos, homes stuffed with debris clogging up the windows. People fighting for free clothes at the dump. I'm one of them.


And yet. People have hope and dreams. People think spring will change things. People think politicians will change things. The older I get the less I know what anything means. I'm here, I have no idea what I'm doing or what is next. But I will keep looking and experiencing whatever it is that is there in my view.

1 comment:

Horseartist said...

Whatever it is... keep it up. Your blog is refreshingly honest and real. And I'm there on some of your points too.

(ex-upstate NY artist, living on the left coast now, continually confused about which side the ocean is on...)