Thursday, December 15, 2011


3:30pm, and every street locked up tight with stopped cars, so I did a u-turn in the apartment building parking lot where my former step-son once lived and where his father bought him out of his lease because he heard gunshots at night. Welcome to the city. Ho hum.

But to the point: I was enroute to yet another meeting with the Big Bank re: $$$, and, finally freed from gridlock, made a quick escape down Yesler Street, a hill which careens almost vertically into downtown Seattle, and which gives one the impression of being dumped into Elliot Bay aka The Salish Sea. Luckily I managed to hedge dunking, and zipped up 3rd Avenue, only to be greeted by a Do Not Enter 3-6pm sign: buses only. Feck!! And late, to boot.

Downtown Seattle is made up of one way streets, crazy steep streets, a freeway which slices through everything, and water. One would think that I'd have it all under my belt, having lived here since the previous millenium, but I try to avoid driving down here and WHY IN HELL DIDN'T I TAKE THE LIGHT RAIL? (Because The Bank was offering validated parking and I thought piece of cake lickety-split. Wrong.)

And then this story came onto NPR about the 1500 grebes who crashed into a snow-covered Wal-Mart parking lot at night, mistaking it for open water. I thought: I can't listen to this. It's too sad, I'm too anxious about this f---ing meeting. No stories about dead grebes. I wanted to cry.

The entrance to the free parking lot was down a one-way street on Mars, as it turned out; and after driving around first one block, then another, and driving under the freeway, encountering yet another Do Not Enter, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200, I parked on the street, grabbed the leather briefcase that my deceased mother-in-law gave me 14 years ago that I've never used, and high-tailed it down the sidewalk to the highrise (floor 17) (did I get the correct bank of elevators for god's sake?!).

Jesus Mary and Joseph: life shouldn't be this hard.

And all in vain.

(Did I mean: Life shouldn't be this hard and life shouldn't be all in vain? Maybe.)

Getting back to the car, my parking expired, I switched on the radio, and there it was again: the dead birds, trying to find safety, only to crash-dive onto Wal-Mart blacktop.

This is our world, folks.

No matter how hard you try to follow the migratory patterns proscribed by your specie, you are doomed to end up beak-down in a parking lot with a Price! Rollback! special on a Disney Cars Lightning Mcqueen Twin Bed just footsteps (or wingbeats) away.

I felt the doom of every last grebe, heading for a safe port in a storm, only to be smacked to death by corporate America, by greed.

(Now put your glasses on [this is not victory, but compromise, and so must be whispered]:

Upon returning home, I called yet another functionary of the above-mentioned Big Bank, who, months back, had offered me a see-no-evil-speak-no-evil refi, and who I'd kept on the back burner if all else failed.

Within about ten minutes I was approved: Merry X-Mas to me. Ho.
It's not as good as I wished, but for us poor slobs making less than $200k per annum, it's almost acceptable.)


  1. City life eh? Over in Coventry (UK) they had apples falling from the sky. No-one seems to know why. At least Grebes are supposed to be up there!

  2. Oy. I feel your pain and your teeny tiny writing gratitude, too.

  3. the grebes flying en masse into wal-mart to meet their doom; and you flailing your wings to the tune of the Big Banks. makes me want to blow up the world. (and yes, i have been watching a marathon of past seasons of Sons of Anarchy. highly therapeutic...). i am glad that your day ended with a teensy weensy--dont write too big or they might take it away--gold star on your side of the balance sheet.

  4. Are you superstitious as well:)?

    Glad it worked out, sort of.

  5. Sounds like the day from hell. At least you were able to pull it out of the trash at the end.

  6. Almost acceptable (don't know how to make the type smaller in comments) is sometimes a very BFD and I'm glad that it was possible. This is a process of laborious Y-turns on narrow and precarious roads. The grebe cautionary many times have I mistaken fool's gold for the real thing? You are still here, we are, and tougher for it, yet with a poet's heart and a willingness to keep trying. xo

  7. At least this particular hurdle has been crossed, however it was crossed. Sheesh.

    Love, C.

  8. Just found out yesterday that the bank cancelled, yes arbitrarily, suddenly," merry-christmas-sorry-we-don't-want-to-do-this-anymore" the insurance on our mortgage and simply said--go find something else on your own...
    Their F**king irresponsibility sickens me.

    I read an article written by a fellow writer of Hitchens on the late man yesterday. He commented that while Hitchens was talented and certainly brilliant, he (the writer) believed Hitchens had an amoral core. Sounds like H would have made the perfect human representation of The Bank.

    God bless your small type!