The Story Of My Fucking Life


Posted by ilbebe on December 17, 2008

9. I stopped playing music in the winter of 2006-2007 because my collaborator was injured in a car accident. She was rear-ended on Alcatraz Avenue, and suffered mild whiplash, however, the damage to her shoulder was serious enough to prevent her from playing violin. I don’t think either of us knew at the time how much we needed our weekly jams to stay sane.

Less than two months later, I was taking an ambulance ride to a mental hospital because I thought I wanted to jump in front of a BART train. The ambulance man, bless him, told me “Look, I don’t think you want to kill yourself, you’re probably just stressed out.” He was right, but unfortunately, California law wouldn’t let him call the hospital we were en route to and tell them I was fine and then take me home to get some rest. Instead I had to spend the night with seriously disturbed people who scared the shit out of me and really made me want to kill myself. I was forced to take tranquilizers and I slept great. I dreamed of nothing.

When I was released the next afternoon, I had to take a cab from the hospital to the nearest BART station, because they apparently couldn’t let me simply walk a quarter-mile on my own. They had no problem, however, with telling the cab driver that I was going to a BART station to catch a train back to Oakland, apparently having completely forgotten my stated intentions of the previous day to KILL MYSELF BY JUMPING IN FRONT OF A BART TRAIN. You get what you pay for in this life, I guess.

Several months later, after I had cobbled the money together, I paid Kaiser Permanente the two-hundred and fifty dollar co-payment they requested for the privilege of having gone through that hellish experience. I felt good though, knowing that they’d wasted $3333.23 on our little experiment, the combined total of the bills from the ambulance and the hospital. They could have saved themselves some cash if they had in-house mental health services, but that would have required, oh, some capital investment in the future, capital that had instead been spent on executive bonuses for the previous several decades.

But I’m not angry anymore. I didn’t kill myself, and am stronger for it. If you’re ever thinking of killing yourself, don’t do it. Please don’t you do it. Don’t break my heart, PLEEEEASE don’t do it. I don’t want my biggest mistake to be having loved you too much. It’s just not possible. Luv luv luv luv luv luv luv all of yas. Don’t take yrselves out of the game. Call me anytime. I work cheap, satisfaction guaranteed. Slightly cloudy with a chance of meatballs.

Time to go steal a microphone and maybe head to church for some free wine.


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