Another Chance For
Friday. Up before the alarm, having gotten to bed relatively early last night, ready for the day with what you'd think was a decent night's sleep. And we'll leave it at that (until the next paragraph). Off and back from breakfast on a cool and overcast morning, sitting here now attempting to salvage yesterday's posting. A too common task. Such is a fast paced life lived in the electrical city.
Remembering, when finishing the paragraph above, that I'd forgotten to do one last spell check before posting yesterday's entry, I returned to it again to find and correct, well, errors. Typos, misspellings, and incoherent clauses. I wonder how far this rattling descent into babble will go, how long it will take, but I only wonder sometimes as it's depressing: best not to dwell. (hup). Take another picture (and another one of the little pills, if there were such things as little pills).
The morning has started differently in the sense it's early and the laundry is in the wash. Any day I do laundry, especially on a day when I could easily have put it off for another week, is a positive sign in my book just as an overcast day, from a photographer's standpoint, is a time of good, easy to manage light. So we will see.
Later. Turned over the mattress (they say every three months, it's been at least six), made the bed, headed out for a walk, but returned in short order thinking maybe I'd go out later when I was more in the mood. A picture of four goslings off at the tail end of a grazing herd gaggle of geese, but a half hearted picture, embarrassing for the lack of effort I was willing to put into it. Another with but three.
Are we building toward more naps, another afternoon lost?
I hope not. I'll be curious to see how it goes when I head up to Portland and then Seattle for the family party late next month. Am I, in my hermetic little kingdom here, making all this up? Is the head leading the body on and in need of a wakeup?
Later still. Right, the end of the month. I need a bus pass for July, a reason to head downtown on the bus. Which I did without a second thought.
Bus pass in hand wallet, I headed by City Hall where they were having a kids fair of some kind - a great sea of kids playing in big, colorful, inflatable slides interspersed with kids shooting basketball hoops - not something I normally photograph, so on to sit at a table in the City Center for five minutes thinking what in the hell do I do now? Am I hungry? Am I not? These were once easy answered questions, not so anymore.
So on to the farmers market on 9th to find it was now two in the afternoon and they'd started tearing it down. OK, shouldn't there at least be one picture here, yet so far not a single one. Oh, well. On to the Asian Cultural Center thinking ice cream until I saw the line. My, my. I sat on a bench for a short while and, finally took a picture. On again, checking my watch, to catch the next bus home.
I have to say I was feeling crappy, as I've been feeling crappy now for a long time, so I guess I'll unload next month at my various doctor appointments. Is this something to do with that operation from years ago? Can that be? Or aging? I can still remember when I was three or four years old hearing my grandmother say more and more often my grandfather was “tired” in that month or so before he died. Or is this something else?
Not sure any of these various “symptoms” will be amenable to “fixing” as such, but if I were more hyper I'd start to worry. For the moment we'll listen to the news and crank up the guitar. We won't fiddle while Rome burns, but we may play the intro to Layla on into the night. We might.
That's a bit overly dramatic, don't you think?
The symptoms are different, but their effect is not unlike having a bad cold that, well, just lasts and lasts, on and off, off and on, not going away. It's gotten to the point where even I need to know more, if it's possible to know more, other than oh dear, it's here, too bad: “onward”, as Oat Willie said, “through the fog”.
Evening. As in past evenings all now seems to be well. I'm sitting here inside, of course, maybe that has an effect, somehow masks some part of it, but otherwise I'd say all the travails of the earlier morning and afternoon - again not terrible travails, but ongoing and unpleasant - are gone or are reduced to such a level as they appear to be gone as it has so often happened in the past.
Lots of time on the guitar, at least, a good solid two hours. I also stumbled upon and fixed a problem with HereInOakland I've had with the width of the pull down menus, easily corrected by changing a single number in Mr. P's excellent design, but one I've not addressed until now, fixing it in a matter of minutes.
And in fixing it I noticed a typo in the Art Murmur titles. “Art Murmor”. How do you do that? How did I do that? It's been sitting up there for two years? Murmur is spelled correctly all over the rest of the HTML page itself, most of it not visible on the screen, but the one very obvious error is writ large in the very title. Easy to correct? Well, yes, easy to correct, but less so in repairing one's ego.
To bed early, get up early with the alarm, have at another chance for a better day tomorrow. Hup.