Friday. This morning isn't a great deal different from yesterday morning except for a few important elements: I do not feel tired, the brain is clear, the attitude, if not flamboyant, is good. Good is good. To bed last night pretty much fried and exhausted at eight, up this morning with the alarm at five forty-five, a decent night's sleep. It's overcast - some slight slivers of sun in the early morning - but we're headed, the experts say, into better weather for the weekend.
We'll not make any lists today, see what transpires. I have many things to do, have had many things to do that have been languishing now for months and months, but we'll give them a break and just see what the day may hold. Nothing wrong with that, there are whole religions dedicated to the idea. Live in the present? Or am I hiding in the present, not addressing whatever it is I should be addressing? I have no idea except to note how easy it is to kid yourself, here in the wilderness of Oakland, mixing our words with other echoing voices from those who think they know what they know. Ho, ho.
Can't we at least get something here that doesn't involve you examining your navel? Some kind of half way interesting photography project in progress? Love interests in the afternoon? A trip to Disneyland?
Well, I checked today's German and Italian ten year bond interest rates, both increased. Two more steps toward doom. Pretty exciting stuff, maybe I'll add the Spanish and French ten year bonds to the list, double the fun.
OK, I give up. “Echoing voices.” We're dealing with the musings of a ten year old.
Later. A bus downtown in my bubble, dressed for the cold - a little nippy this morning - walking around the plaza area taking the usual set of pictures, the area for all practical purposes empty but for the security guards, perhaps a dozen; the fellow in the tree, still hiding from the camera; and a small group of ex-Occupiers sans tents on the sidewalk along the road.
OK, as I said, a picture or two before checking out the progress on the Christmas tree in the City Center followed by a walk over to Peet's to have a small cup of coffee out on the patio. Pretty exciting stuff, so far. Not many people around, some of the restaurants open, some of them closed, but you expect that on the Friday after Thanksgiving.
A walk to pick up two prescriptions, a walk farther on to pick up next month's bus pass (still $20 for us old farts) and then a walk taking a little different path back home, approaching along the lake from a little different direction. A good walk, for all that, for describing myself as floating along in my bubble. We often describe ourself as living in a bubble, a wire or two connecting it to the net.
Still, it's now just after noon, we still have the day ahead. I'm thinking of - well, let's not go there; I say much too often I'm thinking about something and then do nothing about it. The place is a wreck, but a comfortable wreck, why disturb any of it? During the holidays?
There are still pictures I've framed sitting along the baseboard of my bedroom that have been needing hanging now for well over a year. Pictures I'd probably replace with others if I had the energy. One nice thing about the framing kits, the pictures are easy to exchange for others. For someone, of course, who has the energy.
So let's see. We'll give a quick synopsis of the day in the next paragraph. Friday time travel on the web.
Evening. Nothing exciting to report other than the day I think has gone well, feeling pretty good, having probably spent way too much time going through my various news and opinion blogs, but the day outside is overcast and dark so it's a good day to goof off and stay inside. Remembering yesterday. The weather people said it would be partly cloudy today - not so - let's hope they're more accurate in saying partly cloudy for the weekend.
Some time finally on the guitar, I blew it off altogether yesterday on Thanksgiving. Not so motivated when I'm tired. A little better with the string bending, although that first string is still holding out. You start these things and think: hey, this is impossible! And then one day, not so many days later, you make it happen. And then, more days, more months or so later it happens all by itself as if doing it were trivial. Let's hope that holds for whatever's coming.
I've been straining to do a little blues rhythm thing that involves stretching the first and pinky fingers between four frets at the top of the fret board, where the distance between the frets is the greatest, now for months without success and suddenly, this evening, I was able to pull it off. Produce sounds that seemed close to notes you might expect from a guitar. I'm not to the point where I can do it every time, but still, tonight's progress was a very good sign. A sign practice has some effect with this thing.
I'm listening at the moment to an album I've never heard before, never knew existed, McLemore Avenue by Booker T. and the M.G.'s, an instrumental version of Abbey Road recorded and released in 1970. The CD is a German edition, the American edition is, as near as I can tell, out of print. The cover is a parody of the Beatles walking across Abbey Road on the album cover except I suspect that's Stax Records somewhere back there on McLemore Avenue. Nice. My guitar instructor turned me on to it.
And that's it?
Pretty much. Here in Oakland.