About Three Years
Friday. To bed not long after ten, having discovered the Elementary episode last night was a repeat of one I'd seen. I'd also found the French Braquo program listed at nine was not a repeat of an earlier episode but the first episode in a second season.
I'd watched the first series with both interest and discomfort, the characters not altogether appealing. Cops who, well, practiced bad habits such as murder, theft and extortion. The murder, theft and extortion of not very nice people, but I'm pretty firmly on the side of our still less than perfect system of laws and procedures in judging and punishing whomever it might need to be punished in this beating, robbing and killing business. Our crew seems to have taken on these decisions for themselves and to make a bit of profit in the process.
It's just a television program, you know.
And a sign of the times.
Anyway, that lead me to ten where I found the Elementary episode was a repeat of an earlier episode giving me an excuse to go to bed. Like a good little boy. Up with the alarm feeling just fine, all those nice clean shirts, newly washed, hanging there ready to wear in the closet, off to breakfast and back under a clear sky. My, my. Another good start to a day in December.
Back now still feeling frisky. Frisky when compared to recent times, anyway, ready for the day. After a nap, of course. Hup! We shall not play with fire.
How much coffee did you have with breakfast?
No more than usual. Why do you ask?
Later. No need for a nap evidently, so off to take a bus downtown, track down a Christmas card (finding it) and pick up two necessary items at the pharmacy, only one of which was in stock. We can use this as an excuse to wander by again next week, so no complaints.
A nice day out there, reasonably warm one day before Saturday's solstice, we're ready to see the sun start rising higher again. A croissant and coffee out at a table in the City Center, the table in the sun. A bus home to see if we weren't ready now to do something about that nap. Or a bath. A bath and a nap.
Later still. Spent doing little or nothing, surfing the web, playing some guitar and checking the television schedules. No nap, no bath. I'd say “bah humbug!” if I had the energy or interest.
Evening. Ah, well. To bed early. One or two programs on television worth watching and so playing along with them on the guitar in ten minute segments, ten minutes of playing, fifteen of watching whatever it was on television before again picking up the guitar. It's the over and over repetition of the chord changes. You get to the point you can manage them without (you think) problem or error, over and over, but then burning out fairly quickly and putting it down.
Of course that's the secret. Practice makes for precision and speed, the more time spent playing, the better the precision and speed and I, well, I could be doing more than I have so far. Yes. I admit it.
Which means it's taken you longer than six months to achieve rock and roll super-stardom?
By about three years.