Cross Your Mind
Tuesday. Awake at seven, to breakfast and back by eight-thirty, jumper cable start the car with the aid of my apartment manager and then over to the Honda dealer's service building by nine-thirty; a walk up to the hospital for a Protime (blood thinner test), a walk over to a coffee shop with an outdoor patio for a cup of coffee at ten and back to the service shop by ten-thirty to wait for an hour. Or more.
OK, a new battery, an oil change and the car is now functional. Too long to wait, too much to pay for a car battery, but that's to be expected when you use the dealer's shop. Home now just after noon. And no, I didn't even pick up the David Foster Wallace book last night, but went right to sleep instead. Sleep was better, let me tell you.
So that's it for Infinite Jest?
I would think. We'll let all that play out as it will. I do read this and that, mostly magazines and newspapers these days, but it will handle itself. My own question is if it's a facet of getting into a retiree funk or a facet of having your interests change as you grow older (and wiser). Yes, I know, I'm not on the scrap heap yet, we'll talk about scrap heaps in another ten or twenty years if I live another ten or twenty years. Men do that, they just haven't done it in my family yet. Best to let that take care of itself as well.
For the nonce we'll look forward to driving up the coast to Portland soon next week to see the sister and put in an appearance at the family get together in Seattle. As one of the outlying cousins - never married, no family to introduce around - it's nice to put in an appearance to remember who's still with us, what they're up to, a reminiscence of days long gone. Good days, no complaints, but I suspect there are other things I should have on my plate.
Well, the photography goes up and down, but it does hold true. Can't build a life on a camera alone without some amount of damage, you need other supports and I'm not quite sure what they should be for me. The pictures, the journal, the various little web sites and such I consider part and parcel of the same set of interests, hobbies or a hobby that keeps my attention and allows me to spend some quite pleasant time. Similarly with the guitar, all of them solo pursuits.
I suspect they need other supports to keep the head in balance. People do say such. The upper palate-sinus aching head of mine, which I'd like to see get better, doesn't want to cooperate, but it isn't enough to make life stop. A different place to live where I'd fit in better? More than one appealing morning restaurant? Probably. Get out of the house, travel, explore? I'm not sure. I've avoided it, at least the thought of travelling on my own. People ask you: don't you want to travel, see Italy, see Spain? Actually not, although spending, say, three or four months in a single place, taking time to look around sounds nice.
As in a house on the Riviera? Another perched on a beach in the nicer islands?
I don't have the wherewithal, but an approximation of that. Rent a small place here (or more accurately there) and see what's what. But then that's me talking, I'm good at it. I'm not even willing to put together a gallery show, let alone pack a bag and make a trip.
All this came out after buying a car battery?
A pain in the ass, that.
Later. A walk down and around ending up at the morning café for a late lunch-dinner feeling sore and tired. Maybe a little more than a mile walk and the back is aching? I guess. Some days you go on and on, some days you don't. It's made me look forward to playing the guitar, though, no aching back from that. Well, the fingers will ache after a while, but the back stays nice and slack.
An eighty degree day today, but I'd say it falls on the livable side. I like the livable side. Having the car available in the garage is nice. Not that I'd use it, but having it available should I, oh, want to take a trip to say a local beverage store for a bottle of sake, say, having it there is nice. Even though you don't make the trip. Without it there's a certain feeling of loss, of helplessness, of being hemmed in. Some word similar but more accurate doesn't seem to come to mind. The option of not having a car giving you pause when, with one, it wouldn't cross your mind.