More Beautiful Than Before: A Fruitless Loop

I'm having this thing where I can't hold things in my head so they assume this all-consuming importance. I need cash, I'm out. And I live in Bed-Stuy, which is a financial services desert. Like, everyone is paying massive service fees at the bodega ATMs all the time. My usual routine is to grab cash at my Manhattan subway exit, but all routines have gone to shit. Twitter was elevating my anxiety so I took a nap but it was like a giant blinking billboard was throbbing in my brain YOU NEED CASH.

The rain cleared so I thought ok, expedition time. I will make a loop. I will walk eight-tenths of a mile to that one bodega near the Myrtle J-M stop that carries the filters I like. Yes, I smoke. I roll my own. Everyone's in panic mode so supplies, which are extremely specific, and often not to be found in the best of times, are depleted and I don't trust the supply chain, at all. So I will see if they have any more of the little sweet boxes of ultra-slim filters I use, and I will hamster-kauf the fuck out of them.

Then I will walk another half mile along Broadway to the Flushing stop and take a right to the Chase Bank where I will get out $60, which is all I can get without hitting the fee limit. Chase requires at least $1500 be in your account at all times or you get a "service fee" which means I have money, tantalizingly there, but I can never use it. Usurious fucks. I'm always on the edge.

Then I will loop back home and stop in that sweet Mexican bodega where they have plenty of Goya black bean soup, which is delicious and $1.49. The grocery is cleaned out of beans.

I brought green faux-leather gloves I got on ebay from China for like three bucks so I could put them on when using the touch pad at the ATM. All systems go.

Got out on the street. Pretty normal vibe. A bus passed with not a smaller number of people than usual for 1 pm on a Tuesday. There was a guy moving stuff around our exterior electrical cage area, and he said "Hey, you brought me a Guinness?" I said "what?" because I wasn't expecting it & then I shook my head and laughed. I love Guinness and recently discovered the economy-joy of 12-packs. Buying them, and always having beer in the house, made me feel prepared and rich, like a guy with a wine cellar. Unfortunately, two weeks after I discovered I could buy 12 for $18 at Food Town, Food Town discovered Bed-Stuy had gentrified, and it remodeled and jacked up all its prices and stopped carrying 12-packs and started charging $11.99 for a six-pack.

The fact that this guy somehow recognized me fueled a pandemic reverie of my own obituary. A reporter would come and interview people in the neighborhood. You'll be relieved to know the reporter discovers I'm a nice lady, once you get to know her.

Two blocks from my house, in front of a brownstone, alone on the sidewalk, was a pretty hardcover book. More Beautiful Than Before: How Suffering Transforms Us. The cover was pristine, but the pages had soaked up the rain and were swollen together. I put the book on top of a trash can lid.

The first bodega had the filters. I got 4 boxes, and 4 sheafs of the blue Rizla rolling papers. Small rolling papers are hard to find. All the bodegas stock only huge ones, for joints and blunts.

I walked along Broadway & saw all the little restaurants with signs imploring patrons to order takeout or call them direct for delivery. This segment of Broadway has gentrified, not in a good way. The new places are overstyled and twee, unwelcoming. Nobody ever opens up the stuff that's really needed, like shoe repair or locksmiths.

I saw a Chinese takeout place and crossed over to see if they had cold sesame noodles. For some reason none of the Chinese places around here offer cold sesame noodles. It's a specific craving, and it's just not satisfiable. No.

At the bank a few of the ATMs were out of cash. The machine grabbed my card and would not let go. "Card expired" it said. I could not exit out of a warning loop. I went in the actual bank and called out "Um hey, the machine ate my card." Then the machine released it. The woman said I had to call a toll-free number to order a new card. I said I needed cash now. She said I could get in line for a teller.

There were about 6 of us in line. Of the bank employees only one had a mask on, the kind of paper tie-on mask you see on Gray's Anatomy. Plus she had it pulled down to her chin, talking with coworkers. The line, for some reason, was displayed directly in front of us on a video monitor, like a mirror, so I had to look at myself. I am always making a statement without meaning to. My hair now is bright white, and long, and messy, and it was the focal point of the video display, this bright blotch.

I felt faint from not eating, so even though I didn't want to freak anyone out, I hunkered into a squat, My mind was "bitch better have my money" but my body was, I'd like to lie down on the floor and be fed intraveously. I can measure my true stress level by my digestive system. Nothing in, nothing out; it freezes. Then I can't eat, and then I feel woozy, and then I worry I might be getting sick, which makes me more anxious, so I can't eat.... I've lost probably about 7 pounds. I know when it started, too. It was March 2nd or so. Because my Alexander teacher emailed to cancel our session because she had a cold and I remember thinking: "oh good, now I have another week to calm down and eat something."

There was a quite old guy taking a long time at the teller, and, when someone moved in too fast once he was done, he looked everywhere around him, and then, on the other side of that person, saw his cane. I made a sympathetic face as he came past and he said "I need my stick!" and I nodded but somehow felt like crying.

When I got to the teller they told me they couldn't give me money because I didn't have valid ID. I have a lot of ID, but none of it is apparently valid. I have two expired driver's licenses, both clearly me, albeit younger. I have a credit card from this very bank. No go. They told me to "download the app." I am never downloading the app. I am never downloading anybody's app. Leave me alone.

Back on Broadway, the Flushing/Broadway intersection was crowded and dangerous, as usual. A guy went by in a sports car wearing a full-on gas mask, like loot in Player Unknown's Battlegrounds.

I passed the little Mexican bakery I'd been hoping to stop in to with my cash to get some yummy cornbread. I checked my wallet: 30 cents.

Close to home I saw a bodega with a "smoothies" sandwich board out front. Fresh juice sounded perfect, and I could use my credit card. I wanted beet, orange, celery juice. I could taste it. Went in and the only beets on offer were vinegarized slices from the salad bar.

Back home, in the elevator, there was a woman and child and a man I'd never seen before. They pushed floor 2, I pushed 15 and the guy did not push any floor. I felt a pang of anxiety. I had to squat again, which alarmed the woman so I told her I had been on a very long walk with no breakfast.

At my floor the guy let me get out first. I took a left; he followed. There are only two apartments on this side, both of us single women, and this was not a delivery guy. I stepped aside and swung to face him. He coolly walked past me and into the stairwell exit door, and went down the stairs. My heart was pounding. I felt vulnerable.

I poured myself a glass of wine and rolled a cigarette.