Friday, January 27, 2006

The One Hundredth Post, The Biggest Bone of Them All

The Milestone

This is a milestone moment. This is my One Hundredth post here on the pile. In honor of this milestone, I think I will now tell you what this is about… since at the beginning I really did not have a clue where it was going.

This is, and still remains, a way for me to break the writer’s block I have been suffering from. Writing has always been an escape for me and something I have always greatly enjoyed. Not being able to do it almost drove me to insanity. I used to keep a written journal, and in fact I still do, but I needed a way to do it that was easier.

I found that way here. Where I could write snippets as my day progressed and it did not take a quiet place where I could secretly write. What have I been writing about? Well, life in general… and my life for what it is worth… is apparently filled with drama.

The Cast of My Life

There are a lot of people in my life I talk about. Here’s a basic rundown of those who have become stars of the show:

Christine- She is the one true love of my life. If there is anyone in the world I belong with… well… it would be her. We went to High School together, College together, and then she up and married her current husband Louis. Not only do Louis and I not get along because of a few things he did while they were going out (all of which made her cry), but he also assured my hating him forever by marrying her on my birthday. Currently, Christine and I are not speaking due to an incident involving Louis Christmas morning. Am I still mad at her? The man in me says hell yeah… but deep down I just really miss her and wish we could have one of our all night chats while Love Actually plays in the background.

The Steff- How do you describe this one? In two words… the best. Since I don’t have Christine, and even when I did, The Steff is by far probably my best friend. Our history goes further back than most people realize… but the cementing of our relationship occurred when she stood by me during my divorce and helped me realize that not everything was lost… and MOST importantly, she made me laugh. She gave me inspiration to become a better person overall, especially in writing… and in the meantime took a piece of my heart. She has had a crumby boyfriend the entire time I’ve known her… and he is affectionately known as Officer Crumb. On the list of things I hate, Louis and Crumb are first and second respectively. She loved/loves him with all her heart, and he seems to take pleasure in breaking it. Whenever this happens, I’d find her sitting in a chair in my office curled up in the fetal position crying… and I would do everything in my power to make things right. What’s fair is fair… she’s done the same for me and so much more.

The Nick- Nick is one of those people who both entertains you and incites you at the same time. We have huge swings in our relationship. She doesn’t have a boyfriend… in fact she claims to be a relationship phobic person. There are times when everything with The Nick is hunky dory… we’ll go have coffee… go to a bar… go see a movie even. Then there are times when everything is crappy… we’ll argue in the middle of the office… we’ll fight like cats and dogs over the phone… and we’ll even throw random articles at each other declaring how much we “love” each other… i.e. “Here babe, I love you so much, catch this fireproof safe as it drops from the second story onto your head.”

Izzy- Izzy is relatively new… well… sorta… she’s someone who I’ve been talking to for awhile online. We have a lot of common interests. We both love the 80’s, we both write, and we both have friends with issues that makes our life interesting (although, I tend to think while I have all these friends… well, she has me). She’s insanely cutely beautiful, an intellectual on par with myself (I know, that's not saying much, but it is meant as a compliment), and of course if I can mess it up… well I do… and I had her standing out in the cold for over an hour and only kissed her hand. Nice move me. So hopefully, there will be more of the Izzy… a lot more… and maybe one day... she'll show us all her true colors... and maybe... we can do a blog together... wow... isn't that like some mad romantic stuff or what??? I know... the drama...

Me- Yes… me, myself, and I are all documented heavily in this blog. Basically, I meander around New York City working on ambulances and in dispatch centers. I have a thing for writing, a love for the 80’s, an infatuation with all things disasterous, and a sarcastic biting sense of humor. Oh… and I have an uncle… and his name is Louiseville. Don't make me bring him out to play.

The Others- Of course there are the others who I may mention in passing but who really don’t get touched on as much as the others… such as Mel who is now four months preganant and still trying to figure out who daddy is… Barista who continues to torture me about my hatred of all things Starbucks and always looking for something, never sure of what, but always looking for something… and of course the Pudding who, as my ex-wife, is required to be here for those days when I decide I need to lose my mind because of whatever ambiently stupid thing she has come up with. Then of course there's my old partner X, and the Boyz at the Hillz.

How did I come up with the name?

Well, that wasn’t as hard as most people think… considering my name history. My CB handle a great number of years ago was Dog… for no other reason than that was the way I worked, like a dog. When I first became a manager, my crews began referring to me as Watchdog. Then somehow someone else was calling him that in Virginia… so I added the NYC to designate where I’m from. Now everyone has skeletons in their closets… so… I just happen to have A Pile of Dog Bones in mine…

The Finale

Finally, to cap off this One Hundreth Post… here is a sample of my writing. This comes from the novel I am currently working on:

It was around two o’clock in the morning. My partner Dial, the slim dark skinned guy you saw me with tonight, and I were curled up in the front of our ambulance casually watching the scene at Club Calypso. The doors would swing open and closed every minute or so, allowing the reggae beats to wash over us like a wave coming in and ebbing away from the shore. Under the dim streetlights below the El train its denizens would ride that wave of sound to the beaches of silence. Alternating between the flashing strobe lights inside for light hearted fun and the dark corners outside for dark deeds.

This is our holy day service. It is here that we sit to commiserate over the week past while those inside the club push the past week a little further along. Usually the high point is signaled by the sounds of gunshots or the slick silence of highly polished metal sliding through tender meat to release the red flow. Our service is one that usually culminates in pain and misery. We deliver communion to the poor wretches in the form of oxygen and bandages. We accept them into our sanctuary and deliver them with the glow of rotating lights and wailing banshees in a box to you and yours on the hill. That is how it usually goes.

But tonight our lord, our dispatcher Marcus, called down to us in his raspy voice from up above, “One David, I need you for the intox.” My partner and I both looked at the microphone, neither of us moving to take it. “One David, I know you’re out there. Answer the radio or I’m giving you the tone,” he called again.

Still staring at the microphone, my hand disobeyed my conscious mind and reached out to lift it from the cradle where it lay by instinct alone. Bringing it to my mouth, I caressed the cool plastic on the side and spoke my prayer, “Drop it on the screen.”

With that, our altar flickered to life and the bell chimed. My prayer had been answered. Clearing the top from the clutter of potato chip and peanut bags we could read that the mission set before us would be one of ill repute. It was at Continental Avenue and Queens Boulevard, inside the hole of the under dwellers. My partner shifted our iron temple into drive, bathed the street in the red and white of our rotators, and pierced the night with our siren sending us on the way.

These nightly crusades are our mission in life. To tend to the sick and care for the injured. To help those who cannot help themselves. To ease the pain and suffering that people find themselves unable to bear. All of these are noble causes. In truth it is more cab rides than saving lives out here. There are those who try to deny it, but I accept it as my task in this life. Perhaps it is yet another failed attempt to receive reconciliation for the sins of my past, but I have begun to think it is simply that the hours suit me.

So… with all that said and done… thanks for reading… thanks for being a bud and picking through the pile… and hopefully I’ll see you again at post 250… and then THAT will be the Biggest Bone of Them All.


-The NYCWatchdog
Posted by New York City's Watchdog :: 1/27/2006 01:14:00 PM :: Permalink :: 1 Bones Added to the Pile

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