I was biking home around midnight from some place called The Beer Garden on Telegraph . . . people I barely know had invited me, and I went along because I thought maybe something strange would happen to me.
Nothing happened. I probably sounded like a bitter jerk who doesn’t like anything. I sat there at a picnic table wearing my stupid scarf and drinking a beer that was so bad it made me angry.
But at midnight . . . midnight, midnight . . . I turned onto my street feeling rotten as hell and I flew past a group of people and I swear I heard a guy shout at me: “When’d you lose your mind, man?”
And I thought, jesus, they’re really going to kill me one of these days.
Make it sooner than later, I thought.
Lose my mind? When?
“Ten god damn years ago!” I should have said. Instead I said nothing. I’m not even sure if he was real.