My friend inquired from her Blackberry. I wrote back that my head was fine, better than her rear-view mirror, then could not help adding:
On the outside, I mean, the outside of my head is fine. Demons are hopping around inside of it, playing rugby, by the sounds of it.
What a nice little vignette we lived in that ten minutes on S____ Avenue during the parking/jumper cables drama. As I crossed to go into my building, as you drove away, a giant white Humvee, with silver studs on the sides like a shark’s gills, paused to let me walk in front of it. A voice from inside asked “did you get it started?” and I said “yeah, thanks” without looking up. Didn’t want to get shot.
gratuitousblahg 