Unable to sleep, watching Transparent with a heating pad on my back and two cats on my stomach, rising at midnight for GMO free chips and a Trader Joe's dip, diet ginger ale; trying to force the fatigue, I turned off Transparent to take a quick look at Facebook before reading and saw that David Bowie died. I have a hard time of letting go of anything that has hung around for long enough, clutter, boyfriends, workmates I don't even really like. When a musician or an actor or a poet or a novelist or an artist dies that has been in and out of my life for most of my life, then part of the story of my life has died. We die a million deaths before we die, just as we live a million moments. David Bowie wasn't my favorite artist, or even one of my favorites, but he was always there, and always a joy to watch and hear, so talented, fierce, unique.
My mom just bought a new used car for us. I'm 41 and my mom bought me a new used car. It is what it is. We are very lucky to have that kind of support, and we aren't the kind of people who feel demeaned in accepting it. My mom will receive the same as she ages, as my children will as Ed and I age. We only have (had) one car: a black small jeep-ish car where the air conditioner no longer works, the CD player only works if you insert the CD eight times, and there are five holes in various parts of the engine so that the mechanic- an old friend of mine whom I trust- said it would cost three times as much as the car is worth to repair. So we've driven this small black car around town for the last year or more, while it steadily steams and hisses and jolts and leaks oil, and Ed has ridden his bike to work. We have had a very good attitude about this, being faced with much worse in the past, and currently. However, it has sucked. In order to go anywhere on the freeway, we'd have to borrow a car from someone, which did feel demeaning. We turned down many invitations because of our car situation. Instead, we now have a new used 2010 Chevy Equinox in a beautiful darkish blue sitting in our garage, and Ed parked our old beat up car down the street, off our cul-de-sac, as if it were a disobedient child who we have finally grown tired of and put into a long time-out.
But I miss that car.