Couple Of Years
Sunday. To bed before ten, up finally after seven, off to breakfast and back on a morning that appears to be leaking some sun. No rain on the Saint Patrick's Day parade yesterday and a relatively clear day today? I've got to stop believing the weather reports. We'll see how the head is glued together later as the mornings often start well and then degenerate before noon. Still, today, a good breakfast. Maybe it's the sitting down at this journal after that drains the soul, nothing to do with sake or Guinness or any of those other suspects.
Talked to Mr. E just now about heading for Dublin, he's tied up this afternoon when Mr. S's band is scheduled to play. They're playing right now as I'm writing according to the schedule, although it seems awfully early for a band to be playing a gig. Vaguely illicit, if not illegal, asking a musician to be up and conscious at nine in the morning, in the old days at least.
Later. A walk along the lake and then on to the morning restaurant for a BLT, potato salad and coffee, the sun bright, the wind brisk, the air quite cool. Still, comfortable enough to sit out on the patio and enjoy spending the time in the sun, my waitresses bringing along a small take along with me bag containing two pieces of cake. They're sitting in the refrigerator now and I suspect I'll remember them later for dinner.
So what to say other than better than yesterday, none of the not quite definable “tiredness” I went on about. I had an hour's nap before setting out this morning of course, needed that, but feel in the mood for another foray later, even after the walk. So good. I'm sure we've learned nothing after all the bitching about sake and cheddar cheese and three drinks after dinner, but what the hell? When has life been any different? The wool is made to be pulled over our eyes, it's a vital escape hatch built, I'm sure, right into the genetic code.
Later still. Well, no walk as yet, but some futzing with the photographs, part of which was changing the splash page for artandlife. It works, I think. A good balance. It is a sign of better energy though, this futzing around with this and that. Now if I can apply it to the guitar....
We will, we will.
Evening. Another Italian police series was playing at six I find I'm unable to watch, so a news program followed by a Korean historical soap I'd given up on some time ago. As in months ago. The same characters now having moved through various battles, political intrigues and similar such, all after one another's throat. At least the women are attractive. The warning at the beginning says not suitable for children under fifteen. I've never been quite certain who it might be over the age of fifteen who might want to watch. There's no sex whatsoever, no words stronger than “dang!” and, although the various battles and violence might not make it to Sesame Street, they'd be considered suitably tame for everything else.
There is the cultural difference.
Indeed, I know. What seems to be driving this is I'm one of those older than fifteen years of age viewers who've been caught watching.
It's an historical (and without design, hysterical) drama. I'm learning about the various tribes and countries and cities and such of ancient Korea, I am. And, as I may have mentioned, the ladies are attractive.
I have been working with the guitar. I seem to be good for about fifteen minutes and then stop. Now if I can do five or six of these I'm fine and today I think I've managed the six, but odd to watch this little drama play itself out. I'm liking it, I am, but again, interesting to see how I approach the guitar. Still working on Layla, of course, and figure I'll have it nailed in, oh, another couple of years.