Then one night a girl I’m too in love with gives me a copy of “The Stranger,” by Camus. She found the book on the ground. It belongs to Aragon High School. Or it used to. At around midnight I go to Heidi’s Pies, a 24-hour diner in San Mateo. I look through the names signed on the front cover of the book. The first person signed it in 1998 and last person signed in 2005.
Sitting there with that book in my hand I feel as random and anonymous as well, I am.
Four other freaks are also at the front counter. Two of them are, like me, reading. One of them is playing solitaire. And one woman is in a stupor over a cup of coffee.
It’s not Beulahland, but I fit right it. After all, this is America.
I order apple pie with vanilla ice cream on top.
A few nights later I go bowling. Life is not so bad.
I cook a few healthy dinners. I go to the gym. And it is good.
Anyways, I have some plans that relate to this blog. But I won’t announce them in something called “I Feel Like Shit.” I need a new post for that
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