Wednesday. To bed at a decent hour sometime after nine, up at seven, still a bit tired; to breakfast and back, my guitar lesson coming up now at ten. The sky grey, a very light intermittent rain.
Later. I will not describe the lesson, as going through it created enough angst for one day. I'm not sure how painful it may have been for my instructor, but he didn't flinch. Have I said this before? I have. We shall do better next week? We shall. Have I said this before? I have. Am I getting tired of it, as tired perhaps as others exposed to this nonsense? I suspect. Even I. Here lost in the vast marshes of Oakland, pale in the reflected light of the Rainbow City across the Bay.
That's pretty nauseating.
The point I'm trying to get across. Grey or nay, we're going to turn the corner one day, even if I, the man with the immaculate record for following through on his promises, am the one saying it. (hup)
Later still. So, out the door to catch the bus and head for the ATM, thinking I'd check the lake as we passed, and see if the Occupy Cottage was still afloat. And it was, so, cash in pocket, I walked back to the lake and took the necessary photos. A walk then to the 7-11 look-alike for an ice cream cone and back to the apartment, no signs of ocular migraines within a hundred miles. Or ten, for that matter.
I'd copied and then modified the Occupy Wall Street files and images from ArtAndLife and moved them to HereInOakland before I left for the bus and started an FTP session as I was leaving. It had timed out by the time I got home, but they're now all finally up needing but one or two minor modifications for completion. Still, sixteen hundred pictures, somewhat more than I was thinking when I said “a thousand or so” yesterday. Busy, busy. I'll have to talk with Mr. P about one or two final tweaks, but Houston, we are up and running.
More guitar now, I haven't forgotten what I took from this morning's lesson.
Evening. Sushi at the local restaurant down the hill. Not sure why. Something to slow me down? Whatever it was, it was nice, walked across the street and took a couple of pictures of the light on the lake after I'd finished, back then to the apartment to watch another Scandinavian police procedural, this one set in Sweden during French Revolutionary times, followed then by another set in contemporary Australia. You begin to understand how it becomes much easier, while watching these things, to talk myself into practicing the guitar. Guerilla tactics. All's fair.