Escape from downtown Albuquerque

Roasted cauliflower (with a spiced marijade) and tomatoes over creamy polenta, some girl scout cookies, a coupe of whiskeys. Also I had my #2 molar root canal'ed by Dr Clark yesterday. I was downtown, I’d parked my car in a garage three days in a row, and every day it got more and more destroyed. I’m talking DESTROYED. On this third day, I go after work to get my car, by this point the windshield and back window are gone, the roof is largely bashed down into the seats. There’s a huge black roll of cloth in the back seat, like a rolled up rug, shoved in at an angle. I’m pulling it out and Alex is there and he points out that it’s probably a body. Seems too light, though. I dump it out on the dirty, trash-strewn pavement and unroll it, sure enough there is a young woman in there, dressed up and made up to look like a doll. [side note: I’m pretty sure she is a human doll version of Margaret Hoover, my favorite interview journalist that we watch religiously as part of our Friday night PBS political talk marathon. It’s not Margaret Hoover, it’s what a human who was dressed up to look like a doll of Margaret Hoover would look like.] So that’s great. Dead girl in the car. But I really need to get home. I don’t think the car works at this point, and/or maybe we called the police and it’s a crime scene, so I don’t try to drive it away. So now I have to head home on foot. Alex stays with me, now and again, but also disappears a lot. I wish he would stay with me, rather than off doing whatever it is he's doing. He's got his hands in a bit of crime maybe. Downtown is a warren, and it’s definitely dangerous. I have to pass through this sort of underpass area, and off to the right is a huge ceramic sculpture, a theater-sized set of seats which are just boxes or columns. There are two young women, teenagers, crossing through at the same time, I want to walk with them, maybe with all three of us, no single one of us will be as vulnerable, but they don’t trust me, and I can’t explain myself. Dystopian rape-gang-y assholes are starting to come up from behind the seating and fill it in, like we’re a performance, walking past. It’s not good. I accidentally touch one of the girls’ boobs with my elbow, she thinks I’ve felt her up, she thinks I’m one of them. Back in the open, a Star Wars-themed parade blocks Central. I need to get across. I need to get home. Backtrack and try again further east. I’m up around Richmond/Central now, Nob Hill. I’m so damned tired. Every step is an act of extreme willpower. I need to speed it up. I drop down to all fours and try to run, but my clothes are too tight. Misery, exhaustion.