I walked in Sears today at 1:30 p.m. Brisk jazz was playing, the kind you'd hear in a Peanuts sketch. I'm on a mini-vacation, and not going anywhere special. Other than me, I wondered, "What are everyone's excuses for being strolling through the mall on a Wednesday afternoon?"
At that time I felt detached, probably due to the walking and jazz without being in a nightclub, stiff potion in hand. Maybe the energy in the jazz made me feel guilty for walking without a purpose. I shook off the feeling of lonely streetlamps and trees.
Ah, the richness of experience.
On a brighter note, I saw ultimate justice (TM) delivered after a self-absorbed idiophite female almost ran me off the road. I blared on the horn, and as lights came flashing and traffic slinkied to a halt, she was pulled over seconds later by the policeman driving in front of me, who was witness to the whole thing. Boy, that felt good.