Sunday. Overcast, grey and rainy, but not a bad morning. Up and out to breakfast and back at the usual time getting up with the alarm, wondering, as I set out, if I shouldn't have checked yesterday to see if they were opening as early as they did otherwise on an Easter Sunday. They were, they did. A good way to start a day, not that it feels any different for other than attitude, which seems pretty good. Looking forward to futzing with the stuff I'm always futzing with, progress or not. Hup! Hup! And all that stuff.
I actually did do things to rearrange the apartment a bit for the head shot session yesterday. Nothing much, but my how easy it was and how much better is makes me feel for the difference. Not a lot of difference, but a small investment for a larger than you'd think emotional payoff. Nothing new in this knowledge, but odd that you have to rediscover it over and over through life. Then again, maybe useful. A nice surprise every time it happens, a jolt of energy you've experienced many times in the past but somehow managed to forget.
Later. It's now after one after a reasonably long walk starting with a bus downtown, taking the odd picture of a fence I've photographed in the past. Not great graffiti, but how to get the damned thing at an angle that shows it best? A photo in passing, the mood good. Another walk from the City Center to Jack London Square realizing today is Easter and the few cafés that are normally open on a Sunday are closed. No coffee out in front of Peet's.
Still, there's an odd kind of specialness in being out and about on an observed holiday such as Easter (or Thanksgiving or whatever), specialness in the sense there are fewer people on the streets, fewer cars on the road. A cup of mocha coffee outside at a table along Broadway (not everything was closed), a short walk through Jack London Square over to the Potomac, two people out on the fantail, the exhibit open for visitors. A photo of Jack. You really can't get a unique photo of Jack having taken so many, having seen so many that others have taken, but what the hell.
A walk then back to the City Center to catch a bus home. A photograph of that window again, the Spiderman cutout still staring out at the street, the addition of a painting between the two posters. An odd little surreal day in Oakland, feeling pretty good (and a little funky, but it seems to be a constant companion anymore), home now with most of the afternoon ahead. Maybe a little more guitar. I played for somewhat under an hour earlier before setting out and the fingertips are sensitive, but not so sensitive I can't do more.
Later still. I didn't mention I picked up a couple of bottles of sake and some cheese and crackers at Beverages & More when I was down in Jack London Square, it being Easter Sunday and all, not that there's any mandate in that, but it is a day to celebrate for those of us less clear on the subject. So the afternoon has wound itself up in fine style, another hour or so on the guitar listening to the news and sipping between riffs. Seems appropriate when playing a Strat.
Well, yes. Probably not best to use Easter as an excuse. The day, by the way, has turned out well, the sun has been shining and the sky is clear. The fingertips are still viable and we'll probably do more of those chords (they do more damage than individual notes) as we get into another of these little bottles, dear Lord.