Something In Reserve
Tuesday. To bed last night to read a bit before going to sleep at a decent hour. One advantage in having nothing you want to watch on television, you're not tempted to stay up (except, of course, for my weekend Korean soap). Anyway, the day clear but for a few clouds, up with the alarm to breakfast and back now at eight. We'll get ready for our guitar lesson tomorrow and we'll probably take one or two pictures. As I did yesterday (except for the pictures) and the day, week, month and year before. Oh, and we'll see if the less than wonderful late morning double vision reappears. I'm interested in that, I believe we will. See. Two of everything.
Other than that, May looks to be soon morphing into June. The Carnaval Parade is coming up this Sunday. I can use the pictures. A haircut appointment next Tuesday, I'm thinking of going back to having it cut shorter. We've had our experiment with longer. Too much trouble, too many split ends, too many shocked looks in the morning mirror, dear-oh-dearer.
Later. Running the laundry. A bit sooner than usual, there's still plenty to wear washed and folded, but I wanted to run the six shirts I wear every day though the wash, three of them received from Land's End this month. Six identical shirts that are worn with a similar six pair of identical jeans pretty much every day. What does that say about my life? Not uncommon, no unusual, and maybe not even worth noting, but I seem to have, well, found what I like to wear and I'm wearing it.
What image does that convey? Clothes, hair, glasses, hats are forms of expression that I've not consciously thought all that much about, although I assume I've got a pretty good internal definition that describes my own strict and accountable bounds. Makes you a member of whatever group. I avoid clothing with obvious brand names and what passes for clever slogans, but that's just another set of terms you use in defining your own personal image. We do this, we don't do that. Who be we? Anyway, the shirts are in the wash, the checks are in the mail and I'm tethered here in the apartment until they're done.
Later still. One in the afternoon. A bus downtown to walk over to Peet's for coffee out on their patio, taking one picture and drinking but half the cup. No sign of double vision, the head relatively clear, the upper palate acting up but not so much as to be a bother. Hmm. I wasn't expecting that. A walk then back home picking up a bus pass for next month on the way, again, the eyes straight ahead, clear, focused. What's different? Not a drop of sake in the last two days, nothing broiled, deep fried or over easy for breakfast, a decent night's sleep last night.
I passed this by walking home. I should have stopped and taken more time in the framing, but there was someone walking toward me and I had but a second to get the photograph. Why does it make you feel sad? Me feel sad? Cute, but discarded? A small child somewhere now without it? A broken bond of some sort? An angry parent? Again, better that I'd stopped and gotten a few from different angles. I may go back and play with the cropping, the overall photograph includes much that isn't included in this picture.
So a nap, I think. More guitar later, I got in an hour or so this morning. Or was it half an hour? I'm forgetful these days: names, tasks, appointments. Not overly burdensome yet, we have a way to go before I begin to really worry, but I notice when they occur. Did I leave that cup of orange juice in the car this morning my waitress gave me as I was leaving? No. But I wondered about that earlier before I took the time to check, thinking maybe, just maybe, the orange juice sitting in the refrigerator was one she'd given me yesterday and I'd forgotten it was there, another second glass still sitting in the car.
Evening. After another couple of hours changing chords on the guitar I went down and had sushi and sake for dinner. Room temperature sake, the way I have it at home, so it doesn't blow the top of your head off twelve seconds after downing it. The day is done but for a few hours, maybe some reading after I go to bed. Feel good, better. If things go to hell in the morning I can always blame it on the sake. Always best to have something in reserve.