I'll Go Tomorrow
Saturday. Up this morning forty-five minutes later than usual, not having set the alarm, the sky crystal clear, they're saying the day and the weekend ahead are going to be uncomfortably hot. Well, the Fourth of July weekend, if not now, then when?
Getting in the car and turning the key the battery failed. More precisely it didn't put out enough power to start the engine and so I'm stranded here over the weekend. Which means I won't photograph the parade in Alameda, doesn't mean I won't photograph the jazz street festival along Fillmore in San Francisco. Hi, ho: thus and so. Excitement already, this holiday just starting.
The attitude is good. I had a short patch of “what is life all about” early last evening, but it didn't last. The old “what do we do now Mr. Natural?” questions we have now and again. Not so often anymore, but one I suspect that's lurking here, now that I'm retired, now that I've been retired for four years (it doesn't seem possible). What to do now that my life has changed? Has it changed? But you know the questions. We all know the questions.
More than enough guitar practice yesterday without setting any records. I do have my troubles making smooth and accurate changes between these chords. Not all, some are easier than others, but I'm nowhere near playing them smoothly. But we shall persevere. We have seen how other impossible tasks have dissolved into the routine given time, iteration makes perfect. Adequate.
Practice, practice. I see why people give up after a while, although I'm told I'm through the really dangerous period. Perhaps retirement is like that, you need practice to chip the scales away from the eyes, see what's right there in front of you.
Oh, and since I had to walk to breakfast this morning I was able to see the same territory in an earlier morning light, see the farmer's market setting up, but without the crowds, see the white columns set in a different set of shadows and light. Which is nice.
Later. A walk down to the morning restaurant for a grilled cheese sandwich, don't ask me why, perhaps just to get out of the apartment. This at eleven in the afternoon, a single picture of the farmer's market to get a feeling for the number of people who'd arrived since eight. A bus was coming by as I was leaving the café so I got on the bus, went home and took a nap.
Some guitar (the four fret stretch is getting easier!), lots of chord changes, some progress seems to have been made. Still doesn't sound like much, but good. Which is good. It's now three and I'm feeling fine but have no idea what I'm going to do with the rest of the day. Whatever it is it won't involve a car. I wonder if my apartment manager has a set of jumper cables? I wonder if I have a set, when's the last time I looked in my storage locker in the garage? Maybe I do know what I'm going to do for the rest of the day, at least one thing I'm going to do before the day is over. More exciting stuff!
Looking up the location of the Fillmore Jazz Festival I'm embarrassed to notice it's right across Geary from Japantown, where I've gone many times to photograph other events. Same BART station, same bus to catch. So I'll go tomorrow. I think.