it snowed and snowed. it was like….a foot of snow. it was wonderful for a few days. it accented the christmas decorations on the houses. out where i live, they suspended alternate-side-of-the-street parking on sunday and monday and tuesday.
wednesday, in my neighborhood, there is none.
i mistakenly assumed, along with a whole lot of other new yorkers, that with the eve of the holiday, christmas day suspension of parking regulations on friday and the large snowfall still impacting so much of the outer-borough streets, that time would be the best weapon against such natural forces.
that, the impending thaw and rain forecast for the weekend…..it would be, in a word, a “wash.”
so when i walked to my car to begin my christmas eve journey to staten island, like the christmas demon from hell that came to shit on my windshield, there sat the orange envelope, snug as a knife planted firmly in the back – payable to the nyc department of finance.
in a time of economic disaster (to many of us), it made my knees grow weak as i lifted it from under the wiper blade, rolled it gently in my hand and got into my car. i made one of those sighs, the one that steals the breath from your lungs just a little. the one that makes you try to connect a hastily-formed inventory centering upon reasons to be grateful, generally started with, “well, i DID wake up this morning, and THAT’S a good thing and my car that has had 152,152 miles on it for the past five years managed to start just now,” seems to get me on track to keep my blood from boiling, but like billy bob thorton’s character in BAD SANTA, a character i believe i knew (and still know) quite intimately, the happy list was being overshadowed by the dark, WHAT-THE-FUCK list and it was like the broken shoelace that started a nuclear attack in the mythical land of HOW DARE YOU, YOU TWISTED, CRUEL, PETTY, LESS-THAN-MINOR CIVIL SERVANT EXTORTIONISTS….and as the engine warmed up, so did i.
i had thrown the ticket onto the passenger seat and as i sat for a moment or two, my eyes were magnetically drawn to it again and again and i could feel the resentment rising like within me like krakatoa east of java;
i was going to post the movie i remember seeing in the 60’s but this looked more brutal and it’s french, a recurring theme with me lately.
as i drove away from broadway, heading for the BQE at the flushing ave. entrance it started with, “you (the editorial “you” i believe) fuck. you piss-ant douchebag mutherfucking son-of-a-pap-smear scab-faced asswipe scumbag. you lousy, heartless, meanspirited cretin fuckface goat- shit-eating weasel who should find yourself on the wrong end of a psychomutherfucker’s saturday-night special, you low-down scum-sucking maggot, you no account excuse for a human fucking being, meanest piece of “i’m just doin’ my job” shit in the dingleberried asshole of the universe, you motherfucker you; i can just see the fucking glee in your eyes, you lowball piss-stain skidmarked moustache douchebag son of a syphilitic cocksucking whore bastard, you and your ski parka fuzzboy-hat, you fucking fuck son of a fucking scumbag fuck you fucking fuck…and fucking so on….”
i think i was able to keep the stream of pointed and mindless expletives going all the way down park street until i turned down by where flushing avenue meets and goes under the manhattan/verrazano bridge-directed traffic, my way to family, friends and the meaning of christmas.
i was a touch dizzy after the prolonged outburst. i haven’t let loose like that in i don’t know how long.
it still can’t believe they did this. i saw something about it on the news where some talking head of the city sang some song about how they “needed to do it to facilitate snow clearing around the city.”
they “needed” to sneak in one day of tickets in a nine-day span.
shame on them all.
what it DID do however, was relight the artistic fire that was lit almost three years ago here and what was going to be brought back a few months ago but got caught up in the web up here (i’m pointing to my right temple at the moment).
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