Many Times Before
Friday. An up on time before the alarm clear headed kind of a morning, to breakfast and back, home now at eight, the sky overcast, the temperature cool. Always a surprise to be so clear headed without much going on with the sinuses-upper palate problem, reminds you of the fact there once was a time when you didn't think once, let alone twice, about things that didn't exist. Still, obviously no complaints.
Actually (come of think of it) last evening finished well too. More than the usual time on the guitar, some futzing with the apartment arrangement. Engagement with my surroundings in other words. Coming up briefly for air out of what seems to have been a very long funk. I guess. You only recognize them in retrospect? Not so much depression, just a, I don't know, funk. What's a funk? Not as bad as depression, more a shifting of gears? Might be. A shifting of gears. Settling into a significantly new routine, a different phase of life? Probably, in the spirit of just babbling on, but it sounds good. Then, come tomorrow morning, the usual stuff will be acting up and it will be back into the funk bucket again, all else forgotten. Depressing. Round and round. Around and around. Living it has drawbacks, but writing about it can be fun.
Later. A bus downtown to buy a monthly bus pass. A day late, a dollar short. A day late, as I should have bought it yesterday or earlier, as I usually do, and a dollar short as it cost me a dollar to take the bus, my September pass having expired. I was waiting, half hoping, the Clipper Card would arrive, but after reading how jammed they are with adolescent Clipper cards (they've recently forced students, those nineteen and younger, to use a Clipper card - no more 10 day student tickets, monthly passes and such), I figured I'd be lucky to get mine in the advertised two weeks. No big deal and, in this day and age, if you have to sweat a dollar you're in much bigger trouble than a Clipper card can resolve.
So, a bus pass and then a bus back and beyond to have a toasted bagel and cream cheese out in front at a sidewalk table at Noah's. Noah's. I'm not quite sure they really know what a true bagel is about, not a New York bagel anyway, but whatever they make sells well enough here on the left coast. A bagel, buy a small bottle of vitamin E to replenish the bottle I'd finished, a walk the rest of the way back to the apartment picking up a stack of envelopes along the way.
Still overcast, really overcast, the temperature cool, but just fine, thank you, some thought as to the meaning of life and how we make decisions at my age or any other age. I've been listening to science programs lately, studies where they've been analyzing human logic versus emotion, and I'm understanding how much of life is emotion driven. Not a flash out of the blue, this life and emotion business, it's just they've been doing interesting studies that give it a firmer foundation.
Buying a condo. Contemplating buying a condo. Emotion. Has nothing to do with price or what's going to happen or not happen in the future. Emotions and circumstances. But we'll leave it at that. I'm not really wrapped up in condo's these days, not that I ever was. Just now and again looking through Redfin online and noting what's on the market. Daily. Every other day. Not so often as to count.
I did order a hard drive from B&H, my camera store, deciding, if I have to upgrade this computer to a later operating system (the browser is close to hosed with all kinds of evil habits brought on by whatever it is I let into the system), I'd better do it on the cheap. Do it right, but on the cheap. I don't have any problems with computer speed once it gets going, internet speed or handling images. This old home brew box works fine. Another hard drive added to the box, another operating system upgrade and we'll go from there. If that doesn't work we'll shoot the works on one of the Dell workstations and hold our nose when the bill arrives. Too much holding of our nose, lately, could be adding to the sinus-upper palate problem.
The thing that started me on this is Succos, a Jewish holiday B&H observes by shutting down their store. I was able to place the order for the hard drive, but it won't be shipped until Sunday, which means Monday, when Succos is over, B&H being founded and owned by a Jewish family that's strict in observing the dictates of their religion.
Part of me says “damn!” of course, a week's plus delay, but another part of me admires anyone who holds a moral position and allows business to go to other firms by being religiously observant. Business is no longer moral from what I'm able to understand from the practices of banks, insurance companies, food companies, oil companies and the like. You'd think there'd be at least some blowback. If your bank treats you like shit, wouldn't you move to another bank? Unless, I guess, all the banks treat you like shit.
We'll leave it at that, but my limited experience at the board of director level, the chief executive level, reinforces my thought you'd better be very careful in pitching a proposition with moral overtones. It had better be something like “it will further cement our customers allegiance to our products and we'll make a bundle” when you're pitching a proposition that seems to favor customers over profit and even then you're venturing into very shaky ground. Better to zing them with the old hundred percent interest kicker and the double penalty whammy than give a customer a break. B&H obviously doesn't have a clue in this new most modern world. Which is one reason I give them my business. Succos. Have no idea what it is, but I hope the food is good.
I take it you've been zinged with something recently?
A bank charge some months back. I moved to another bank after, that and the fact they were charging me too much for my checking account. Not good to read the news, though, if such gets you excited. There was a time, for example, when Bank of America wasn't a member of the payday loan, charge them all the market will bear, crowd. I think. Perhaps worth a laugh, obviously naive thinking, not paying attention back in the day.
Later still. After four, back from a trip to the ATM in preparation for this evening at The Starry Plough, some thought (as mentioned) to shoot the Art Murmur this early evening before the gig starts at nine. But I'm thinking why do the Art Murmur? Feeling tired in this late afternoon, no reason to overdo it. Right? We'll see. I've said things like this many times before.