It Were The Sake
Thursday. Bright sun. They're saying a humongous size storm starting Friday, but today it's clear and sunny. Humongous, by the way, is Texan for really big, at least I learned it from transplanted Texans in the early seventies, it could have originated elsewhere.
So a decent night's sleep, up a little early on purpose at five forty-five to give me more time to finish the papers by eight over breakfast, back now listening to the Deep Tracks channel on XM radio. I've been listening to their blues channel now for the last couple of months, but think I'll try the Deep Tracks channel again. It's not as “deep” as I might like, but the mix is reasonably good from my own rock and roll era. My rock and roll era. Little reminders we really are getting to be an old fart. My era, as such, if not my interest, probably ended with the punks, but now it seems like some earlier century when people wore long hair and strange clothes.
It was the last century and people did wear long hair and strange clothes.
Like the clothes I'm wearing today? Essentially denim and t-shirts?
At least you got rid of the boots.
A lot of the Texans went to tennis shoes when they arrived in San Francisco. For some reason I went to cowboy boots. Plain brown leather boots bought, I seem to recall, at the Gap. Nothing too over the top, but boots none the less. Not had a thought to wear them again, let me tell you.
Later. Maybe I should avoid really long walks. Well, longer than what I consider a normal walk. I was tired this morning, took a brief nap and then hopped a bus downtown to walk around the Old Oakland area where I had a sandwich before walking on through Chinatown taking the odd picture of interesting doors, building fronts and such. Which I've done in the past. You may have noticed.
The walk through Old Oakland and Chinatown ended up in my walking back to the apartment, maybe a total distance of four miles when you add it all in and that's maybe a mile or so too long, I'm thinking. It doesn't feel that way when I'm actually out there walking, but now I'm back and I'm just tired, sitting here in the mid afternoon, futzing with photographs on the computer. The muscles aren't tired, a slight soreness in the back more than anything, but tired without being able to sleep tired. Old man tired.
What's old man tired?
The kind of tired you get when you're my age. Those ten and twenty years older may snigger, but I'm paying no attention. Slightly aching muscles, tired and fuzzy headed, so I'm going with age and that extra two miles. I'd say age, too much walking and sake, but I haven't had any sake. In addition to sake's many excellent qualities, it allows you to blame it for any old thing you might have in your hopper. Doesn't have to be limited to headaches and hangovers. Any malady will do: “It were the sake, sir! Did us in it did!”