Tuesday. To bed at a decent hour, although I can't quite remember exactly when, and getting what I'm pretty sure was a good night's rest, awakening at quarter to six. A comfortable walk to breakfast, passing the now painted black temporary door to the building that fronts the (soon?) to be two residential buildings that are scheduled for construction behind it. Why this is of interest I have no idea.
But, whatever reason, you'll continue to comment and take pictures.
The oatmeal, toast, fruit cup and coffee for breakfast. No ill effects from yesterday's breakfast, but this is what appealed this morning , not because it was safe, but because it was what I wanted. So good, I guess. Read the papers and headed back to the apartment taking the usual pictures. And then more of the usual pictures.
Later. A walk to the Lakeshore ATM starting out along the lake and then back to have a turkey sandwich and coffee at the café near the fitness center. Tired after the walk and so watched the news in front of the fan and vaguely wondered if I'll ever get a walking act together. Not fretting, just sitting there wondering.
Later still. Listened to the news about Trump's firing of James Comey. May you live in interesting times. Have we ever lived in other than interesting times? I'd say we need another Hunter Thompson to report this administration in its proper Gonzo context except just the straight reporting puts it in Gonzo context.
Then a post on Facebook reporting Charlie Pritchard had died. I knew him in San Francisco in the early seventies, didn't know him well, but we shared many mutual friends who'd come by the old house on Arkansas Street (aka the Rip Off Ranch) with Charlie to shoot pool in the late afternoons. Sad to hear, more so than I might have thought.
Gilbert Shelton modeled his Fat Freddie Freak Brothers character on Charlie, although he was best known as the Texas Music Hall of Fame guitarist who played with the Texas bands Conqueroo and Cat Mother. It was something like my third week in San Francisco when I tagged along with Don Taylor who was setting up their equipment at a San Francisco club where Cat Mother was playing that evening.
Evening. Spent more time with the news and finished two movies I've been wading through for the last week on the tablet. Checked out Charlie Rose at eight, watched for five minutes and then turned out the lights.