Tuesday. To bed before ten, awakening a couple of times during the night, which has become the norm I guess, up at eight and off (walking) to breakfast and back. The upper palate-sinuses were aching like crazy when I awoke, something to do with the pressure of the head sleeping on a pillow I guess, but an additional one of the little Tramadol pills seems to have taken care of that. So I'm sitting here on a very sunny morning after ten contemplating the day ahead. We'll do something no doubt, but what? Mystery on a Tuesday morning in Oakland!
Cringe. I hope it's out of your system now after that.
Who knows in this world? The attitude is good, though, or I'd have erased it all and started again.
They expanded the “shelter in place” to include all of Oakland and most of the east bay yesterday, lifting it around midnight, so it was best to have closed the windows and such, if only for the psychological benefit. Was I really worried about particulates in my lungs? Well, enough to make the effort to shut a couple of windows that I usually leave open at night.
If I had young children I'd have had a different reaction. The embarrassment of reacting a bit over the top would be nothing compared to the downside should this have turned out to be the real thing. I wouldn't want to live by that refinery with children. I have similar thoughts about living beside a nuclear plant, but then who ultimately doesn't?
At least I can get out today for my walk. Or walks.
Later. A bus downtown, a walk around the City Center and City Hall to end up sitting at a table over a cup of coffee and snapping one or two pictures. The mood good, although I was experiencing some of the usual double vision and slightly off kilter head, as if the brain had just been poured from a cocktail shaker.
The double vision, cocktail shaker finished its visit as I was on the bus heading back to the morning restaurant to have a BLT, ice cream and diet Coke, just as it seems to go away and the head settles in whenever I get into the mid-afternoon now for these last many days, weeks and months. We have our appointment with the neurologist this coming Thursday. Hmm. This Thursday, the day I now have my guitar lesson. There might be something I have to do about that.
Home now feeling mellow. I got in quite a bit of time on the guitar yesterday, enough to catch up some on the time I lost over the weekend, we'll see if we can't do as well today. A feeling we're at the edge of moving up soon to another level on the guitar. I can feel it coming, we're approaching a place where my playing will sound more like a guitar player picking out a tune than someone who's picked up and is strumming someone else's guitar for the first time in his life. Not quite that, but close. In my head, anyway. Sounds right.
Later still. A fair amount of guitar as it approaches six. I seem to be making progress in getting between the three chords we're playing in the current assignment. Getting between the chords is the problem, getting from one to the next on the beat. And it takes time to get right. It does. But progress is made, just not as quickly as we'd like.
I believe you've mentioned this about a million times.
That's about the number of iterations it takes to get these chords down tight.
Evening. More guitar, a Maigret at six (interesting), more guitar, a lie down on the bed for half an hour to let something familiar pass through, feeling not at all happy it continues to remain familiar, up now feeling better to notice I missed the Night Out scheduled this evening going on right down below my window on the street. Hi, ho. Why have I never attended a Night Out, never gone out to meet more of my neighbors? I'm not sure and I suspect in a better world I should think about it, but tomorrow when the sun is up.
What does any of that mean?
It's now after nine and I'm tired and I probably shouldn't attempt to think, let alone write, when I'm tired. Doesn't seem to affect my guitar playing, but then very little including practice does.