R.I.P. My dearest Vambulance, Vanessa.

Dear Vanessa,

The last photo I saw of you was taken by a traffic cam on Queens Blvd as we blasted through a red light. Your photo was footed with identifying times and numbers resembling a mug shot! It was unbearable seeing you depicted like that. Where is the humanity. Money never really meant anything to you, and it surely doesn't now, but together, that day, we made the City of New York 50 bucks richer. Although at times things were rough, we really did have a good go of it, and you are missed. On SNL they reported that James Brown's body was not cremated, but rather donated to fix other sex machines... may your soul live on in the drivetrains of other Vambulances.

Your Captain,


May it bring you some peace that Stacey Gottlieb did a wonderful write up of our time at the Scope art scene. This is how I shall remember you, http://www.nyfa.org/nyfa_current_detail.asp?id=17&fid=1&curid=844.



LOVEJOYART said... May 4, 2010 at 2:16 AM  

Hopefully she's in a better place now. She put up a good fight.

NURSE FACTORY said... May 5, 2010 at 2:39 PM  


I film Andy trying to start Vanessa with Starter fluid for the first time. Voyeuristic? Yes. A sign of many other times when she would not start in the future? Yes. The start of a nearly two year adventure of Vambulancing around Brooklyn? Yes. RIP Vanessa. They were the best of times, they were the worst of times. Sometimes Andy blamed the fact that you would not run properly on me. He said I was bad diesel engine luck. I have lots of documentation in your memory, Here is the first video of you from the outside. When Andy punched you I know he didn't mean it. Thanks for taking one for the team. Thank you for bringing my printing press to Brooklyn for me. Thank you for always getting Andy home safely. Thanks for being so charmingly large and badass with your sweet medical edge and smooth-riding ambulance suspension. Thank you for being an ambulance. I always knew you were outside my house when I could hear your growling diesel engine turning over and purring like a giant metropolis Diesel Wildcat on Kent Street. I'm sure you saw a lot of strange events in your life and the part when I knew you was just a slice. The photographs I have of you in front of my darling Asbestolith are some of the last. You stand so regal in front of the concrete jungle where dreams are made of and the Greenpoint sewage plant. I'm so glad I could know you and your operator. Goodbye for now. Miss Medical Majestic.

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