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.
My Published Memoir
About The Writer
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"What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open " M.R.
she's precocious / and she knows just what it takes / to make the pros blush
The Mr. & Mrs.
what i thought love was is so much less than what it is
Our Pack: Dakota Wolf, Lola Moon, Ian Oliver and our baby, Ever Elizabeth
Someone may have stolen your dream when it was young and fresh and you were innocent. Anger is natural. Grief is appropriate. Healing is mandatory. Restoration is possible. -Jane Rubietta
you can stand under my umbrella
the light is on for you
My dear child, who can tell? One can only tell that, by remembering something which happened where we lived before; and as we remember nothing, we know nothing about it; and no book, and no man, can ever tell us certainly.
Some couples don’t ask much of one another after they’ve worked out the fundamentals of jobs and children. Some live separate intellectual and cultural lives, and survive, but the most intense, most fulfilling marriages need, I think, to struggle toward some kind of ideological convergence. Norman Rush
Pray For Kate McRae
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I Believe In Nationwide Health Care
E Pluribus Unum ( Out of Many, One )
"I pay no attention whatever to anybody's praise or blame. I simply follow my own feelings." - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
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