un? questionable

un? questionable. It was printed onto a magnetic sign on the side of a beat up pickup truck in the parking lot of the shady hotel in Miami, where I stayed last month. un? questionable, beneath it said, carpet cleaning.

I've had a case of writer's block lately. I've pondered the importance of what I have to say. Here I am saying it, anyway. Last night I went to Brian's benefit downtown. Several bands played, art was auctioned. The money goes towards his hospital bills. I'm not sure how much has been collected yet. I do know Brian has quite a following. I'm among them.

Brian is still in a coma, my mother has colon cancer. She seems to be doing well, she is stoic, but I've seen her breakdown when discussing the unknown. I read and hear that it's the most treatable cancer, but it's still cancer.

I keep thinking about those dreams where I yell and nothing comes out or I try to run, and I seem to be treading water. One of my favorite movies is Fellini's 8 1/2. It's about a director with director's block. The beginning of the movie, is a dream, where steam fills the inside of his car, while he sits in traffic and strange faces stare at him, or the dream about having all the women he wants, but it turns into a nightmare. The movie is very funny, disturbing too, way too close to my own life.

When I saw the un? questionable sign, I thought of some of my friends. I wish they could see this. This is the kind of entertainment we thrive on. I also thought that the person who made the sign, was probably not trying to be funny, or maybe they were. Whatever their motivation, Brian would be one of those friend's that would appreciate the attempt. I know my mother laughed when I told her about the sign.