In the midst of today's AOL gig writing kept getting phonecalls re: last Saturday's big CRASH. Got the call that They deem my car 100% totalled. All $22K shot to hell with only 2K miles on the sparkly new odometer. Oh, and Laura's Hawksley Workman cd is still in the cd player. I'll be replacing that. Tomorrow the car goes to salvage, the drunk that ran the red knocked my engine's block off, or, rather, knocked the engine off of its block. New Forester heading my direction, hopefully, next week.
Today's surrealism:
went into the dealer's body shop to fetch a receipt for picture frames for upcoming art show and bumped into my car saleslady, Caren. She, I thought, recognized me but she was talking about me as if I were not there. Yes, she said, we're looking for a new car for her... and it was too late in the dialogue to correct her so I went along with it, playing my sibling, who I assume Caren thought I was. Yes, she said as "I"/"my sister" was departing, tell Nancy that I said I hope she's doing okay and... have a Nice Day!
She also asked "my sister" if I'd/she'd like to see the totalled car. "I"/"she" did not.
Off to the Art Land, where magical exhibitionistic things happen.

Nancy's Great Entrepreneurial Idea #78:
What the world needs now (in addition to Love Sweet Love, as it's the only thing that there's just too little of... ), I have determined in my post-Crash (no ref to JG Ballard here) and enpained and ensnared situation, is a Post-Accident Coordinator. A PAC.
You are in a Crash. You hurt. You are weepy the first day. The second day, just like everyone predicts, your body is hurting like the jaws of Hell are nipping at your being, and you have to enter the bureaucratic maze of information, laced with landmines.
Here's are 2 of my fav landmine examples from yesterday:
Insurance "Agent": WHAT? You rented a car from Hertz? Oh, that was a mistake. Go get one from Enterprise. (PAC would know this and save you the wasted time and money of dealing with the Hertz nincompoops)
Enterprise Lady: WHAT? You talked to your insurance agent? You should have contacted the other party's insurance company. (PAC would spare you such inane commentary - would say on your behalf You know what Fuckhead? My client was injured, she didn't seem to have the time to chat with the other injured party about insurance matters, etc.)
The PAC would tape record your answers to all Crash-related questions, gather paperwork and run towards all the sharks whose careers are based upon accidents, momentary lapses of luck.

Took Laura, who had addressed all of my art exhibition p-cards today on her half-day off (point towards Heaven, I'd say), to Daisies for lunch and there I saw they had posted my review of their joint on the cash register. I said Oh, I wrote that. The waitress said, Wait, don't move! Then shouted into the kitchen's small window (where the circa 1972 heat lamp sits and mesmerizes me) Hey, that reviewer is here. They were so happy about the writeup. That made me happy, as did getting yet more work done on my upcoming art show. Note to self: call gallery maven to work upon his no-booze stance on openings. No vino = no saleso.

I refuse to believe that the bloody image of Andrew WK's face had a thing to do with my car crash on Saturday night/Sunday morn.
Minding my own business, heading home after a longass day of freelance work and newspaper documentation, I was broadsided (as they say in the calamity biz) by a drunk driver running a red light. Hello airbags!
Next thing I knew I was looking down a street I had not been driving on, fondling the airbags, thinking how the smell was choking and the white plastic had a neat texture and the bags an impresssive thickness.
Thanks to driving a sturdy Forester I'm writing epinw today with minor aches and pains fixable by Motrin and Oban.
The other driver +3 were taken away on stretchers. Laura, who I called as I'd just seen her, was at my side as were several empathetic emergency fixer-uppers all saying You've been in a very serious car accident, forget about the car, how are you?
After three hours in the hospital I was free to leave with a handout about head injuries/bumps on heads. Before leaving Laura said Let's take a photo of you on the hospital bed so I held up my wrist showing hospital bracelets (one bright orange telling of my PCN = penicillin allergy) and holding up the pee sample they asked for as I headed off to restroom and which nobody seemed very interested in. A nurse came in as we were taking the photo and she seemed annoyed.
Other than THAT the weekend was great, eventful, musicful, socialful, artful.
I may be the next poster person stating how Subaru completely rocks.