OK so I know that everyone is broke and people are downright terrified and the economy and the unemployment (10%? Holy Jimmy Carter Batman!!!) and the rents are sky high and it's raining and we are out of coffee...I know.
And our partisan government is so confused and ineffective it's like watching 14 year olds on a first date ordering food at a restaurant and noticing the boy is trying add up how much $ he's got and how much he's spent and he just spilled his water and his friends are texting him images of donkey porn and he doesn't have a car or a chance....
I know.
And everyone has a cause and the seals and the climate and the zoo and the little children and the Iraq and the drugs and the gangs and unfair and the union and the harassment and Gavin's hair and the storefronts....
I know.
I know. Listen. I need you lock arms with me for a minute. Take a stroll. I have some bad news. Our friend Hollis was involved in a motorcycle accident. She might could use some help. She is in India. She has a brain injury. She’s on a respirator. A respirator is a violent affront to the human body. To say it’s un-natural is an understatement. Horrible. Horrible is a good word. It’s like a compressor, in an auto garage. The tube is big, like a garden hose. Taped to your face with white medical tape. Forcing air into your lungs. Mechanical contraption would be another good description. Infernal device. This machine keeps the blood in Hollis’ body oxygenated. It’s dealing with breathing while Hollis figgers out how to do that again. She got smacked pretty hard and forgot for a minute. There is a place that can teach her how to do this again. We would like to introduce Hollis to this place. And for this, we can use some help.
Where are the finest doctors? I ask you good people of San Francisco, the City of Art and Innovation? Why right here of course. Where would you want to live if you were the best doctor in the world. You would be at Stanford Medical Center. Of course you would be. The best of all things. Best and brightest. All here. It’s us, actually. We are the best and the brightest. If you argue with me, then you’ve just been here too long. You really need to get out more.
Hollis needs to board at Stanford Medical Center. She has been cleared to travel, and it is reasonable and prudent for her to traverse the 10,000 mile trek safely. How, you may ask, does one travel whilst hooked up to a respirator? In an ambulance. With 2 doctors. A few nurses. A guy in a gorilla suit, I dunno. But there’d better be at least one guy in a fucking bell-hop outfit for $200 LARGE. Yup. Two Hundred Thousand Dollars. You want to charter a medical air ambulance you better sell your Google stock.
I can’t begin to solve the injustice in the world. In my city. On my block. I can’t solve the injustice that occurs in my kitchen, for chrissakes. But a random stranger contacted me about the junk boats the other day, and out of the blue donated $100 to my paypal account to support the project. She is a lady that lives on a boat, and is into things that are ecologically sustainable. It always feels like a freak accident when a random stranger finds out what you doing and wants to help just because you’ve inspired them. It’s the world I wanna live in, so I’m goona donate the $100 she gave me AND I’m gonna add my $100 to it and give $200 towards the $200,000 ambulance ride for Hollis. I just wanna keep it going. Think of it as an philanthropic stimulus package. Hollis was involved in a freak accident. She fell off a rented scooter going 5 miles an hour and got the handlebar stuck in her helmet. I don’t even understand it. But when clowns have accidents of course they are “freak” accidents.
Hollis needs to come home, to get the attention she needs. Always the attention whore, that one. She needs to get on that plane. She needs help. Where are we at? Today, 4 or 5 days after the accident, already $20K has been raised. We got 10%. It can be done. It’s not going to be easy. And there are no angels anymore. All that Microsoft money and the start-up money and the VC money is gone. There is only actual money. But we are many, and Hollis is just one. We can take her. I for one want to be one of the people who helped Hollis and be part of the awesome community that came together when one of us was fucked. Fucked. I mean, she can’t breathe. She needs help.
The amount you donate is unimportant. Ya got what ya got. ANY donation, even one dollar, is important. Her mom, her boyfriend, her sisters, her roommates, her co-workers at Last Gasp, the people in her dance troupe, DPW, Vaude de Vivre… on and on… your donation is fuel that powers the beacon of our community. So what if your donation is small? God doesn’t care if you sing off key, she only cares how LOUD YOU SING!!!!! Every donation not only brings the goal closer, but also invigorates the family. So far there have been 400 unique donations. 5 days, guys. Whoa. That’s kinda crazy.
Donating is easy.
Paypal: elizastrack_at_gmail
I’m donating $200. But I’m an over-achiever. I also plan on making Hollis work the door at some events in the future to pay me back, but that’s another story.
But since I’m an over-achiever, I’m gonna commit to 4 times my $ in a match. I’m gonna commit to raising $800 more by begging my friends and family IN ADDITION to putting it out on this list here. I’m gonna send an email to my 20 closest and mostest and beg for $40. I’m gonna tell them that for $40 they can be a member of the coolest club on Earth. This new group of stellar awesomeites called: Friends of Hollis.
I’m proud to be a member.
http://friendsofhollis.blo
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