Not a good day. My car is sick. I don’t deal well with things like this.
I dropped it off at the repair shop and explained what was going on and the fellow gave me that look and said, “Sounds like transmission and really bad news.” I am to call after 7a.m. tomorrow for the verdict.
I went to the gym then (in a borrowed car) and was such a distracted mess on the way in that on the sidewalk outside I literally walked into and knocked a guy down. I was SO UPSET I started to cry and so ridiculous was my reaction he ended up apologizing to me and making sure I was okay, when, clearly, I had knocked into him. I even heard him say “Excuse me” sort of – but was so intent on the sidewalk and looking down – well, idiot. I am a fucking idiot.
Then I started watching the lighting of the tree at Rockefeller Center and this was a HUGE mistake. First of all, I really REALLY miss New York. Secondly, for reasons into which I won’t go, every time I hear Mariah Carey sing a Christmas song I want to commit acts of violence which would make me the top story on CNN and MSNBC and everywhere else for days – the culmination of which would be my much wished for gunning down by police swat-shooters. Third, Audra McDonald sang “Climb Every Mountain” on the show which was one of my aunt’s favorite songs and I was DESTROYED into a sobbing fool. Fourth, I went to Rock Center once to see the tree with a friend. And it was the end of us, really. That day. I just didn’t know it, wasn’t told until later, even though the ending seemed – in retrospect to have long been planned – by that friend – which, now, ever after, sort of ruins Rock Center and Christmas for me. And finally, all of this shit and memories and pieces of things coming at me with this whole car thing and my inability to deal with such things when everyone I see in the world is perfectly capable of getting their cars tuned up and taking care of things and getting past things and feeling okay about loss and – well I CANNOT TAKE CARE OF THINGS – and I am feeling a HUGE failure. HUGE.
And, then, I recalled I had gotten a text last night which I’d never read. I looked. It was from my friend, A, and she had sent a pic of a page from a book with this quote:
“You,” he said, “are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain.”
And I started crying all over again. And wanted to go home. Only, I don’t have one any more. Not really. And that, I am afraid, is the end. Or worse, it is not.