Bankrupt & Unemployed: Actually, It's Pretty Cool

I went to bankruptcy court today. I was nervous as hell so I made sure to go out last night and drink a little too much so that I'd be all, you know, pale and shaky and hungover. I wanted to look & feel my best in preparation for the Group W bench, or, in my case, the Chapter 7 Bench.

Aside: This is why I love my city. Last night I went with my best friend J to the 48 Hour Film Project showing at Asheville Pizza & Brewing Company. She & her coworkers had made a film that was in the project. The films were all great (really. Seriously. And I was dreading it, because I was sure they would suck. I mean, you know, 12 7 minute films made by amateurs in 48 hours? Sounds godawful.) and then I went over to the Grey Eagle to see RB Morris, (who currently has the half of my heart that isn't devoted to James McMurtry) Sean Mullins and Tyler Ramsay. Free. All free, except for the beer. In what other town could you do all that on a Tuesday night and also run into some old friends you haven't seen for a while and hear new gossip and just generally have a great time? There is no other town like this. Also, PBR draft is only like $2.50 everywhere. Cigarettes are cheap as well. It's a good town to be bad in.

Return to main post: At any rate, I found the courthouse and went inside. I was running a little late and I had never read the papers my lawyer sent me (bad Fliss! Bad bad Fliss!) so I tried to skim them at red lights (more badness! augh!) but there was nothing in there I hadn't seen before. Fortunately. The security guards made me take off my shoes and walk barefoot through the metal detector (mental note: don't wear Danskos to fly; apparently they have metal in the soles) and assured me that the digital flash card in my purse would be okay. They were older and came over all fatherly, which is an effect I have on men of a certain generation. I think it has to do with being scared of authority or something. Or maybe it's my ancestral peat bog pallor. Anyway they were very sweet and gave me lots of helpful advice and directions and didn't even look scornful or shocked when I said I needed to go to bankruptcy court.

Than I sat in the courtroom and listened to all the other people going bankrupt, and there were a lot of them. I am not alone in my hideous mismanagement of money. In fact, there was a local business owner there, hmmm. Who I happen to know is holding some paintings of a friend of mine on consignment. That was a little worrisome. There were two people who didn't have lawyers: the judge found problems with their papers and sent them away. I had no problems; apparently I am completely eligible to be bankrupt and in fact my sad status elicited sighs of pity and wishes for good luck to me from the judge. I was up in front of him for less than 10 minutes and that was it: all over and I'm officially bankrupt.

It was all very undramatic. I was expecting more shame, more opprobrium, more wailing and gnashing of teeth. At the very least I thought I would be firmly scolded by the judge. But no, nothing like that. And no wigs, of course, no robes, no pageantry of any kind unless you count the ritual removal of the shoes at the entrance. It's too bad, in a way: I think court should be more like church, more like medieval church even, not modern church. The lights should be dim, there should be hooded acolytes and lots of latin. We should all be properly awed. Alas, however, this is the modern age. I did have to put my left hand on the bible & hold up my right hand and swear that I was telling the truth, just like a thousand thousand movies and TV shows. That felt strange; I think I'd rather swear on the Encyclopaedia Britannica or some book that means a bit more to me. Maybe Faulkner; I can kind of see swearing on Absalom, Absalom.

So, it's really hot and I'm bankrupt & unemployed. I think I'll make cucumber yogurt soup for dinner. Things are okay!