Thursday. To bed not long after nine, but it took time to get to sleep, so I turned the alarm off and slept in for an extra hour. Not sure why, not sure you're supposed to know why. Anyway, up and out to breakfast on a perfect morning, the sky clear, the sun rising, back to the apartment to get into bed and sleep again for another hour, some of the dry mouth symptoms in evidence, the head a little funky. Again, don't know why, again suspect I never will.
Still, up now as it approaches noon, we'll let the head come together and see what the rest of the day can bring. A picture or two wouldn't hurt. And I'm getting hungry, but not hungry enough to think about any of the to be avoided foods on the ocular migraine list. Not after what appeared to be a brief visit this morning.
Later. There have been a number of news programs talking about the Iraq war's tenth anniversary. I'm not sure how the mainstream media have covered it, I hear most have essentially ignored it, but news outlets such as Democracy Now have had some pretty grim recaps of the damage we've done to ourselves and to so many others.
Anyway, I went back and looked at the journal for March 15th, 2003 (the Saturday entry) to see what I'd written. Interesting times. For all my apparent upset with the coming invasion, I still hadn't participated in any of the demonstrations (and we had some very big anti-war demonstrations here), saying I was still suffering from the prostate operation I'd had in November. Nasty operation if it's three months later and you're still dragging.
Later still. A walk to the morning café for a hamburger, ice cream and lemonade. I was hungry. No cheese on the burger, so nothing (I think) on the ocular no fly list. Nice day, a bit cool, but sunny. A walk back, one or two pictures, nothing spectacular, home now to listen to (what else?) the news and think about the guitar. Playing will come later.
In picking out the photograph behind the Sole Proprietor title above, I decided it was (again) badly Photoshopped and made changes, replacing the earlier photo on artandlife. I may end up coming back many more times to adjust them again until I'm happy. Unless I'm one of those people who's never happy (but only with his photographs, certainly).
Evening. I had an avocado and Swiss cheese omelet with half the usual cheese for breakfast and the hamburger for lunch. Were they the culprits late this afternoon when the ocular migraine emerged? A light one yesterday about the same time, but this one was the real deal. It brought on all kinds of negative thoughts and feelings of mortality, made stronger by the fact I wasn't really aware it was an ocular migraine, but something more ugly until it was over.
That doesn't quite make sense.
You don't know it's happening, really, until you can look back when it's done. While you're in it you're under its control and it's no fun in ways I suspect you have to go through to understand. Or have a much better writer to convey the experience. Anyway, a bit shook up as I greeted the evening at six.
The Korean program I mentioned yesterday. I'm afraid it too is not much more than a shoot 'em up targeted at youngsters, but so far, so good. If it weren't in Korean, done by Koreans and thereby making you fit your head around the embedded culture, I'd skip right on by, but given it is, I guess it's reeled me in.
The usual. I'm watching crap, but calling it art to hide any embarrassment.
The embarrassment you're no longer governed by, now that you're older/wiser?