In An Evening
Monday. I took a look at Bleeding Edge, Thomas Pynchon's new book earlier last night, reading the first short chapter. I'd ordered it (I plead guilty to Amazon again) along with Dave Eggers The Circle if only because I hadn't read anything by Pynchon since Vineland, his earlier books V, The Crying of Lot 49 and Gravity's Rainbow popular tomes of the sixties and seventies. It's different, not altogether coherent, at least for me at the beginning. It may take time to sync with the character's patter. For me, at least, after that first chapter.
Anyway, my reading experiment aside, to bed well before ten after bailing on the German mystery last night, up with the alarm and off to breakfast and back on another cool, but clear and sunny morning. Take a shot at the guitar soon I'd think, catch up for what little practice I put in yesterday before taking (maybe) a trip downtown. Get in the walk. Without the walks and the photography to balance all the time I spend at the computer I'd be a less than organic vegetable (with a journal). Green teeth and gums.
It's a Monday. Sometimes the engine doesn't quite start.
Later. A close to three hour nap. Surprised me, awoke with an arm that had gone to sleep. Two in the afternoon. Had it been ten or ten-thirty when I turned in? Not a bad night's sleep, last night, I was thinking earlier this morning. Not great, but not bad. Still, I needed another three hours sleep? Do we have a clue?
Anyway, a walk over to the local burger drive-in for a steak sandwich (medium, no cheese, no onions). We'll play with fire, see if it results later in a messed up head. Still mid-afternoon, moving toward four. Time for guitar. Odd that I get in most of my long practice sessions just after the lessons at the beginning of the week rather than toward the end. With a good day today we're on still on track, but still, you'd think fear of failure would turn the lengths of the sessions the other way around.
Maybe it's driven by guilt after your performance at the lesson, you tend to forget as the week rolls out.
Nice day. Clear sky. Not t-shirt weather at the moment, maybe earlier, long sleeved shirt weather now and then best to stay under the direct sun, but the lake looks nice with the migrating birds. Nicer still if I'd taken a picture.
Evening. Nothing on at six and the repeat they're showing at nine on the non France 24 channel is not only one I've seen before, but found painful at the time to watch. Good thing I'm a demographic no sensible broadcaster is interested in reaching or they'd go bankrupt. I wouldn't be interested in reaching someone with my tastes either if I were in their business, not that I'd have ever considered entering the business. Mumble.
Try a reset.
Hmm. Democracy Now and then a peek at one of the Monday-Tuesday evening Korean soaps that comes close to being palatable. They all seem to run three parallel story lines: one targeted at small children, a second targeted at young adults in their twenties, the third toward older adults still entombed in the old authoritarian top down family structure that's been passed down to them through history. The handling of the mix, however, is maddening. Rather like casting The Three Stooges as characters in among the The Sopranos.
Scott & Bailey at nine. More women who choose bad relationships with men while chasing killers in each and every episode. They do it well, though, so no complaints. I bailed on the detective show that followed it at ten. Only so many cops and killers you can take in an evening and it was past my bedtime, only so much whinging even a clear headed I can scribble in an evening without bailing. I'm bailing.