Thursday. Got to sleep a little earlier last night than I have recently, got up this morning at six-thirty, breakfast at the usual place, a drive over to the hospital where the RN's are picketing to have a routine blood test, the day's tasks done by nine, the day bright, the attitude good. No pictures in the hopper, but plenty of cameras about. I'm thinking of developing that old black and white. Exciting stuff and it isn't even Friday night.
Wasn't there something about another thing this evening in San Francisco?
Yes, I believe there was, but I'm hoping after Tuesday night they're all crapping out. I can only do these so many times in a month (or in a life) before the little animals start nibbling at my brain and I lose whatever anchors still remain. Of course it's morning. Who can tell what my attitude might be tonight?
Later. Much later. Yes, I went into the city. Yes, I'm home after eleven. I feel pretty good. I've had some good conversations with the usual crew. Yes, I've had some Guinness. Yes, I've had two or three shots of whiskey without slurring. We'll see if this condition carries forward to the morrow. I'm upbeat. I see light at the end of the tunnel. Something, if you've been following all this crap, that hasn't been my usual condition. This is good. No, really. And why not? Here in Oakland.