Saturday. The sake seemed a comfortable enough indulgence yesterday, although in the end I guess I've decided to put off the next session for even longer than I have in the past. A change in the body chemistry? A change in the heart, in the brain? Add others to the list and then flip a coin. No complaints, mind you, just noting. Babbling.
So to sleep early enough to awaken at six, half an hour before the alarm, getting up and heading out to breakfast. No driving this morning, a ten minute at the most walk along the less crowded on a weekend sidewalk, to arrive feeling just fine after the fresh air and whatever else there is out there that pumps you up. Hup.
Back home then, checking out the Saturday farmers market as it was setting up and noting, as I was passing by the apartment house construction site, the entrance fence was open. Working on a Saturday? Taking a delivery? Bad guys in the middle of a heist?
Does it matter?
Probably just babbling. It's early, it's Saturday, we had sake last night.
Later. A walk in the late morning over by the lake and through a crowded farmers market, not stopping, not taking pictures, but heading straight to the ice cream shop on Lakeshore to have two scoops in a waffle dish. It probably has a name, but a waffle, shaped like a dish, not a cone. Wanted something crunchy with the ice cream and it tasted just right.
Home, again passing through the white pergola by the lake, taking a picture as I again passed by the apartment house construction site. The gate was still open and a car that had emerged to let a truck exit that had been parked behind it was returning back into the entrance.
All this excitement has been followed by an afternoon of naps, of listening to the news, of watching one thing or another on the tablet (pieces of the various movies I've started and restarted) and then more news about Greeks and Europeans. Tired this day after what I'd been thinking was a good night's sleep.
Maybe the sake?
Maybe it's that its a Saturday and I happen to be tired. I don't know.
Evening. Distant drumming coming in through the open balcony door. There's been a group of drummers now every weekend at the lake pergola since I can remember, a background rhythm you tune in and tune out, almost forgetting on occasion it's there. Just noting its presence sitting here, the sinuses doing a number. We'd be happy to put up with more drumming and less sinuses, let me tell you, but no one is offering the choice.
We are drifting again.
To bed and to sleep early again tonight, I think. I watched the first five minutes of Risky Business, the public television movie at eight that stars a very young Tom Cruise. Don't remember ever seeing or hearing of it before, although I hear it's a touchstone for another younger generation. I'm not ready to watch a touchstone for my own generation, let alone another's, so to bed. An end to what turns out to have been another tired day and tired writing, here in Oakland.