theclowngirlfriend

[theclowngirlfriend]

Putting Myself in Situations: Retrieving my Towed Car

This past Tuesday, my car was booted by the city due to my avoiding parking ticket payments. By Wednesday morning as I went out to go to work I saw the outline of my car in trash and glass shards and knew that it had finally happened: my car had been kidnapped. I had no time to consider how I’d go about paying the ransom, as I was already on track to be a little late to entertain and educate the two year olds. The day was bright and cold and clear, which almost tricked my nerves into a sense of ease. I knew I’d have to spend the day making calls to the DMV between nap time and lunch and brief moments of free time. It’s only in these moments of profound personal stress that I sorely miss the mundanity of my usual routine and rhythms. I was mourning my morning consumption of erotic fiction and sci-fi novels and the little things that take me far away in my mind to a little transcendental place of light and independence. It didn’t help that I had just started this job the week prior, and I feared that my tear stained cheeks and erratic phone calls would make me look like an inconsistent, unreliable freak. Because, all things considered, I do not behave in that frenzied manner often, but I resented not having their benefit of the doubt. I love this new job, and the way the kidnapping of my car affected me was exacerbated by the possibility of making a poor impression on these nice but stern ladies at the daycare. 

So by Friday afternoon I had negotiated, paid, called and cried as quickly as possible, trying to squeeze the utmost hell into one three day period, so as not to spread out the personal anguish any longer than necessary. I will pay off my debt, that does not scare me. It is losing my moments of solace in the morning that I’ve learned I cannot deal with. Each day is hell in itself that I cannot do a little drifting. By Saturday I was on an hour and a half journey to an impound lot bordering Coney Island. The trip would be a long silent trek. But as I sat alone, save for one man on the second leg of the journey, I didn’t feel the sting of what had happened, but the grateful feeling of accomplishment. I had navigated the bureaucratic maze, and this pilgrimage in the rain to the middle of nowhere now filled me with an inexplicable giddiness. The sky was comically gray, my eyes swollen but healing. I couldn’t shake the feeling of reprieve like when you poop away the doom laden stomach ache. I looked at my head poking through my scarf in the reflection of the subway window, the second week of work buzzing lazily in the back of my mind, and the adult face I see on my own looks like my mother’s, and I feel one step closer to the me that I will be for the long haul. But in the very same moment, I always have been the person I will be, and that I will never stop doing things for the first time. And the next time I feel the dread and helplessness that the week has brought, it will be a duller pain, and it will be easier than this time. 

I followed my maps to the lot which was essentially a junkyard. At the junkyard was an Indian father with his two kids, picking up his SUV. The woman who checked me in with her burnt blonde hair. An older white man ushering the cars out of the lot with a black hood, work gloves and boots. The lot faced a parkway and one stand alone towering apartment building. This was a usual Saturday, and I am glad to be amongst people, despite our convoluted systems and rules. They released my car, exactly as it was before. But I look at it like Christmas morning. I like the way I feel behind the wheel. I called my mom for a long while and watched the small drops of rain on the windshield. I feel closer with her, and I can’t stop wondering if I’d be helpful to my daughter in a similar situation. 

I park on the correct side of the street when I get home, and it’s only 11:45am.

[theclowngirlfriend]

my beautiful toxic mold spore

[theclowngirlfriend]

22 Clowns From An EBay Lot