Friday, March 6, 2009

Beckett

Her: Is this Lay Stein?
Me: Uh, yes?
Her: Yes, we're trying to refill your prescription but you're out of refills. We called your doctor, but he's not there anymore.
Me: He's not there anymore?
Her: They said they don't know where he went.
Me: Did you ask them for his new number?
Her: No.
Me: Uh, let me try calling the number myself and I'll call you back.

I call the number. The doctor's receptionist answers. I feel like I'm going insane.

Me: My pharmacist says thay called and you didn't exist.
Her: (awkward laughter)

...

Some girl from my Brecht class emailed everyone to ask what she missed in the class where we talked about Waiting for Godot. That kind of thing makes me kind of angry, because it's like, um, I don't know you, why should I have to help you, but part of me wanted to write back: Life is meaningless and cruel. Sometimes we make jokes to pass the time. Then we die.

3 comments:

personage said...

You should e-mail her that!!

jonathan said...

your suicide prevention plan only allows for one class this semester, and you pick the theater of the absurd?

werner herzog said...

haha