Go To Bed?
Sunday. To bed late only to read for another hour to finish my first Maigret mystery, Lock 14, published in 1931, the second of a series of seventy five books/novels that George Simenon would write over a period ending in 1971.
Best to skip then this never ending idea of getting to bed early.
Maybe so. A crappy day yesterday, although it ended well enough, up by six-thirty without any real effort, off to breakfast and back to then work on yesterday's entry before posting. It needed a lot of work, still does. Crappy days result in crappy writing, odd choices of words, incomplete thoughts and aimless sentences.
It seems to keep you entertained.
It does. I seem content.
The sun is out feeling pretty good after yesterday, if I were really ambitious I'd consider going over to San Francisco for this weekend's North Beach Festival.
But you won't.
That's the bet I'd make if I were one to make bets.
Later. A walk over to the lake around noon, after taking a nap, with the long lens, not a picture to be found, back to the apartment to consider my options leading to a bus downtown to the ATM on Broadway and then a walk the rest of the way to the City Center. Nothing was open, which I'd expected, so a walk on to Washington Street to sit out at a table on the sidewalk in front of a café with a cup of coffee and an almond Biscotti. I do like almond Biscotti's.
A bus back then to the apartment. I'd been wearing a light jacket this time when I'd set out (it was a bit too cool earlier without one in the wind by the lake), but it was warm enough by now to make the jacket uncomfortable. Stepped off the bus at the usual stop with the camera over the shoulder, seeing a picture.
If I'd been a little faster, had had the camera in hand, the second young woman in red to the left would have been in the frame with her arms raised in some kind of athletic stretch, but we take what we can get and remember to be ready the next time.
Home now at one-thirty hungry, but not willing to go anywhere for something to eat. To the morning restaurant? I could, but I'm not interested enough yet to walk. The local burger drive-in for another steak sandwich? Might, but not yet. You can see the earth shaking debates that go on here in Oakland, many of them resolved with time, but many of them not.
Later still. So, a walk along the lake thinking I'll just do my ten minute out and back routine unless I was able to convince myself to head on to the morning café or to the ice cream shop on Lakeshore and ended up opting for the morning café for a grilled cheese sandwich, ice cream and lemonade out at a table on the patio. Where else?
Back to the apartment catching the bus as we met at a stop to sit back and watch Spiral on Netflix starting where I'd left off late last night. My, my. So early in the day? I think I've been hooked.
Evening. Took a break from Spiral at six to watch another Irene Huss whom I mentioned I thought, after having watched last Sunday's program, that for an experienced police detective she seemed to make a lot of what you'd think were fatal moves. Similar thoughts for this evening's episode, but interesting enough I guess. I watched it through. I wonder if she's similarly portrayed in the books this series is based upon? Something to ponder, don't you think?
Watched Moyers & Company at eight because I'm addicted to the damned thing. No excuses, no complaints, he manages to push all the buttons an old ACLU'er/ex-underground magazine editor might possess, all the while playing the chord sequences for Tuesday's upcoming guitar lesson. Some progress on that.
OK, Spiral was calling, but I opted for the Inspector Lewis at nine, sitting here now at ten-thirty finishing this. There is but half an hour left on the Spiral episode I abandoned for Ms. Huss, maybe (yes, it's late) finish watching it before I go to bed?