Like An Adult
Sunday. I took another (third) nap in the late afternoon yesterday just after five and awoke at six-thirty at the end of what was obviously an ocular migraine of some kind, the very apparent disassociation from reality where things are very much not as they seem. I know, hard to get your head around from the description, but that's the essence of the experience: you're in OZ, the real OZ, and all the rules of the familiar world have changed in disturbing ways.
So, again, awake at six-thirty, the senses slowly coming back into some semblance of balance and, well, I again felt the need to lie down and sleep. Nap number four. Awake again at eleven-thirty to get up and turn everything off in the living room, right back to bed to awaken again at six-thirty in the morning on what is now Daylight Savings time. How many hours is that? I have no idea, but it's a lot. Why so much sleep? I have no idea. Am I sitting here fretting, on edge? No, I don't spend much time fretting or staying on edge, but an interesting (I'd have to say) experience.
So what to do about it?
See how we do today after going to breakfast and back on a sunny California morning, sitting here now at nine feeling, well, sensible, the sinuses subdued, not thinking of taking (another?) nap.
Later. A bus downtown, arriving at the bus stop just as the bus was pulling up. A sign we made the right decision was the thought. No need to fret over a decision once it's been made, although it doesn't hurt to prop it up after with a little convenient logic. I'd been thinking it would be interesting to see if the chalk mural was still in place, if they'd cleaned it up yesterday or if they were leaving it for today.
A few pictures of the mural because how could I not? A walk then through the City Center to find it deserted, a very few people at two or three of the tables, none of the places to eat open, not even the bagel shop. I was not interested in a bagel, the one I'd had at breakfast I hadn't been able to eat, but a dessert crêpe would have been nice.
Anyway, a walk through Old Oakland again and then on to the Asian Cultural Center to have an ice cream cone (two scoops - green tea and strawberry) and to sit by the fountain for a bit. On then to take a bus to the ATM. A good sign the energy was up as I had no second thoughts about getting off the bus and then having to walk the rest of the mile or so home. A picture by the lake, a picture of the pumpkin because there was no way I wasn't going to cross the street to take one when I saw it sitting in front of the restaurant.
A stop at the 7-11 look-alike for two one liter bottles of Diet Coke (I've been out of it for a while and I do now and again like to take a sip on a warm afternoon) and one small bottles of Jack Daniels. I was serious when I said I was happy not to have had any alcohol the night before the ocular migraine, deciding against it because, if I'd had an unpleasant experience later, I would have blamed on the booze. Don't like to think what I would have taken out of last night's drama had I had a drink or two the night before, but I can now rationalize my plan for the evening.
Let's not go too far afield here, you're starting to make things up.
Make things up? Moi?. Old Man Truth, the Man Who Never Lies?
This endless discussion of your alcohol consumption, given how little it is - something you're well aware of - is stupid.
What I'd be left with would be a discussion of my toe nails and how they choose to grow.
Anyway, a walk to the morning café around two is in order: have lunch, get ready to finish the day on the guitar. Yesterday, as you may have guessed, was not my best day for time on the guitar.
Later still. Still doing fine. A bus to the morning restaurant to have a chicken salad sandwich, more ice cream and a lemonade. Seemed to be a good idea. A walk then back to the apartment, the weather people saying it hit eighty-four today. I believe it. Still, a nice eighty-four, the humidity not too high, wearing a cotton pullover. We'll all pay through the nose for this good weather, I suspect, when the earthquake comes.
Let's see how much we can get done on the guitar. I don't really want to listen to more election news, I've sent in my ballot. I did think twice in passing a bar on the way home advertising an election coverage - victory party this Tuesday. I usually listen to these things alone at home and look forward to it this Tuesday. Maybe best to not mix politics and alcohol in a crowd.
Evening. A relatively brief lie down on the bed at four-thirty, wondering if I was starting to experience some of the same symptoms we had yesterday afternoon at the same time, but no, fortunately not. A bit of a dip and then the head cleared up. Awake now to watch another of the idiotic Italian police procedurals at six with no apparent deleterious effects - you never know what this stuff is doing to your brain - playing guitar, the finger picking coming along.
And I did have the three shots of whiskey I bought earlier today. We'll see how that goes, what the morning brings. It is the weekend, a drink or two is in order, right?
Stop that crap.
True, but we still know the difference and we use whatever juvenile stuff is available to aid the writing.
The evening is cooling down, which is good, we'll get to bed early. The whiskey seems to have cleared the head as it has in the past (which is probably an illusion, given our history when we were young) and the evening continues. There doesn't seem to be anything on television, so maybe we will. Get to bed early. Behave like an adult.