I took my mom to her doctor at Pennsylvania Hospital today, in Philly. It's the oldest hospital in the country, has been there since 1751. Imagine that. It was there when there were slaves being traded a few blocks away just north of South Street. Horrifying. I was in The Worst Mood when we left there and I felt so guilty about it--just super crabby and cranky and evil and I was supposed to be taking care of my awesome mom.
When we got home and I calmed down and everything stopped seeming super fucked and terrible my mom told me she forgot to warn me. The place has serious vibes. That's when she told me how long it's been a hospital and that the first time she went there the same sort of horrible mood descended on her and she finally figured out it was just that it's been this place of intensity and suffering for a really long time.
She forgot to tell me! Jesus. I thought it was just PMS.
Anyway, then I was thoroughly cheered up by this interview with my Feminist Hero of the summer, Alan Moore. (I just finished reading From Hell in which violence in a specific place echoes through the centuries.) He talks about Lost Girls but also some about how his next novel is restricted to a few blocks in his hometown.
I, however, think that I maybe am not sticking nearly so close to mine this summer as I had originally kinda thought--apparently there's some stuff going on elsewhere I might want to check out. Oh I'm terrible but I will tell you later.
And the magic doc at the scary haunted hospital seems to have done the trick--mom is much better, thanks & knock wood. This magic doc's offices are special and have this superfabulous wood paneling and are sort of a separate wing. Weird.
xxooElizabeth