I am the best friend a drunk on a skateboard can have.
I saw two rollover accidents yesterday. One was on the 15 South. A small black car was flipped over. A few other slightly bashed cars were parked around it while the police and ambulance filled out paperwork. A well-dressed young woman was screaming and sobbing on the shoulder. As I drove by she collapsed into the arms of a man who had run up to her. It was really odd to observe such a personal and emotional moments from the fish bowl safety of my car. It made my heart hurt. On the way to Coronado yesterday C and I saw a convertible that had flipped over on the Coronado bridge. I am really into my seatbelt.
We critiqued my essay in my memoir class last night. I had to read the entire nine pages aloud. I was surprised to get laughs in places I didn't even think were funny. I received a lot of good feedback and ideas. Apparently I put too much work into too small a space. The instructor even said each page could be a chapter. Yikes! A chapter? I had hoped this memoir would be a long essay, my 10,000 words max. But maybe I am under-ambitious.
I want to dance to this song at night in the middle of nowhere where no one can see me. That is my mood.