Before It's Too Late
Wednesday. Up this morning at seven after turning off the alarm. Another getting to bed well after ten night. For good reason, I thought at the time, but then the time wasn't at five-forty five this morning when my opinion on staying up late might have been very different. Such is life. To breakfast and back and then off to the guitar lesson where my own lesson was in seeing someone manage extreme patience with a pupil. I wonder if there are old guitar instructors or do they fall out of the profession as old age crankiness sets in? Stop teaching lest they break a guitar over someone's head? All these musings on a Wednesday morning.
Oh, Nikon now says the D3 is now “in shop” so I suspect it will be finished and on the way back by the end of the week and I can send them the D3s. Probably tomorrow. Hup.
I think a nap, now. I have some prints to send out just after noon, no reason not to get in a short nap to, um, revitalize the batteries on this fine sunny morning/day, here in the vast guitar orchestra of melodic Oakland.
Does hip hop use a lot of guitar?
You know, I've been wondering about that.
Later. Dead down tired, I'm afraid, but off to pick up a mailing tube, then package and mail some photographs. Off then from the post office to the morning café for an egg salad sandwich, potato salad and diet Coke. I was hungry, although not able to finish the potato salad. Or all of the sandwich. A different reality, this getting older.
Still, back to the apartment for a nap, feel better now that it's approaching three. Maybe pick up the guitar and, if not to practice, then to change the strings. Sounded not right, this morning, even beyond my mis-fingering notes and chords. Why did I decide to learn the thing again?
You are joking?
Oh, yeah. We're not quite awake yet.
Later still. Restrung and tuned the guitar: good. Played a bit to loosen up the strings and then tuned it again: good. I've let it go for a month now and that's too long as it really does sound better. Now maybe get out the door for another walk as the day outside looks really nice and I'm feeling more like an actual human being.
I'm grumbling in the back of my mind about the various prescription drugs they've got me on - do I really need this inhaler, for example? - but that's the norm. We go in cycles. Now that walk. Maybe an ice cream cone. I haven't had an ice cream cone yet today. No need to go without and endanger my ever so well balanced diet.
Evening. OK, maybe this is just one of those funky days. I seem to recall one or two somewhat like this in the not too distant past. Brought on by what, I don't know, but they pass along and they don't seem to come very often. One hopes “not very often” remains in the description. Ho, hum. At least there are no double vision issues, no geraniums growing out of the ears of passing strangers, rats in the walls or strange lights flickering in the room next door. One must be thankful. I mean really, a good night's sleep is what's needed to turn it around.
So, out the door to walk to the ATM, stopping at the ice cream shop on the way back. A decent walk on top of the morning walk, although I sat a little longer than I might otherwise at the shop while finishing my two scoops in a cup and then sat down for a second breather at a bench beside the white columns on the lake, not physically tired, but just kind of burned out. I wouldn't mind a little sake later, but won't have the gumption to go out and get it. Which I guess is for the best.
The guitar is restrung, tuned and sitting looking at me from across the room. Maybe spend a little more time with it later, watch television and get to bed early. I don't see any reason why this funky sort of bump along day needs to extend into tomorrow. Please.
Bed. Better, tomorrow will indeed be better, best to get my bitching in now before it's too late.