Mar 23, 2007

Just this morning

Will Ferrell on Terry Gross, talking last year about his film, Stranger Than Fiction; about getting the gig on Saturday Night Live, about being interested in self important characters who imagine they have something all important to say or to do in the world but they don't.... Listening while crawling along 101 South, in Lane No. 1, once upon a time the fast lane, just north of the 92 interchange. It's a clear day, you can see forever, you can daydream to eternity.

Over on the right, something catches your eye. What is that? Cars stopped. A UPS van, a blue car behind that. Two men running, one after the other. One's a fat man. Where are they running to? You follow the action from left to right as you pass. They're running to another car stopped in the shoulder lane. Oh, what is that? That's a man hanging out of his car, out of the driver's side, his head is almost touching the cement. He is nearly upside down, he's not moving. A young man is all you can see. And there's something there. What is that? A little red spot in the side of his head. A little red spot. The mind puts things together this morning with the speed of a baby with an abacus. That little red spot could be from a bullet. And right away, with absolutely no evidence whatsoever, you conclude, suicide. That's the feeling. Yet you're not even sure that the red spot is a blood spot. Could be lipstick for all you know.

But it's not. It's something bad. And what a shock. And wow how it lasts. Not like these other shocks, things you just read about, and imagine, no this has got a real kick to it. A short time later you see a police car, lights fluttering, hustling up from the south. Meanwhile, the radio is still on, speed unchanged, in line dancing still in effect, exit coming up....

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