Wednesday. Well, I continue to stumble along. The weather, again, is pretty nice as it should be on a September day in Oakland. If it were hot and humid I'd be bitching, but it's not hot and humid: breakfast at the usual place was pleasant, the walk back was pleasant, sitting here at the computer now that it's afternoon is pleasant, the fact I have no photographs in the hopper is not altogether pleasant not to mention I have not a clue where to go to shoot some, which is to say that I'm fat, dumb and happy with the rent paid and unlimited prospects out there on the horizon. Ingredients for disaster I would think. Not that this state of affairs will cause me to go out and do something, which it will, but it will probably be something off the wall, stupid and probably dangerous.
Since when have you ever done anything that's “probably dangerous”?
True. No lions, tigers or bears hidden in my uneven history, this is just an exhortation to get out the door to explore unfamiliar places. Getting out of my zip code comes under the heading of “probably dangerous” in my universe, but I can see signs of change. Which is probably why I'm pulling up the covers and taking so many naps.
You cry like a baby.
No, no. No baby I, I'm well on my way to achieving the emotional age of nine. Ten seems a bit scary yet, but who can tell how far I can go given time?