Skip Out On It
Friday. To bed before eleven, up with the alarm at six, off to breakfast and back like an automaton, albeit a happy enough automaton. No complaints, the head seems clear and the attitude (as well as the weather) in pretty good shape. A picture or two of the pandoreas (two weeks ago I didn't know their name, let alone how to spell it) having first crossed the street to document the four cent a gallon gas increase. Life on the teetering edge: pandoreas in bloom and unleaded gas.
Yesterday's entry read like crap, so some time spent trying to rectify that. You can't, of course, rectify something that needs a substantial revision in thirty minutes. I can't. Turn something that reads like scribbles on paper scraps found along a shore, the writing a bit smudged and otherwise foreign. What small child scribbled this while playing on a beach somewhere out there in, well, Ripwrapistan? Eastern Ripwrapistan?
This one has gone over the edge while it's complaining about going over the edge.
I'll give it a look when I get back from the guitar lesson. At least the morning seems together, let's hope no corners are turned in the next hour before the lesson starts.
Later. Not so bad. I haven't been able to say that in a while, but the blues riff went reasonably well, the fingers getting tangled, but not too tangled. The chord sequences for Something were better, although there's still time needed to bring that up to speed. Nice tune, Something, written along with Layla for one of rock's famous ladies.
That was a long time ago.
It was and it wasn't. Best it was, perhaps, but still nice to sneak in and remember now and again.
The morning is almost over, so maybe a walk now that the sun has been out now for a while. It's felt like fall weather around here for the last week, nippy, not sure if it's going to continue. You can usually count on a fairly warm October at the beginning of the month if not at the end and I suspect it won't disappoint. But we're here right now in the third week of September, let's do what we can to make something of it. There are, after all, photo opportunities coming up these next two weekends and today marks the first day of an eat right something or other opportunity to sell people things down in Jack London Square. Not that I have any eat right issues you understand.
Later still. A walk down to the bus stop, the little smartphone app saying it couldn't find the bus, so a walk to the morning café for ice cream and a lemonade instead of going downtown, the bus the smartphone couldn't find passing by finally, running right in the middle of its posted schedule. Same with the one that followed thirty minutes later. Ah, well. Buses. A sign of the local priorities.
Anyway I think we're done with the walking. Feel OK. I did get in a short nap before heading out, but that can easily be blamed on the shorter night's sleep. I've had an urge to pick up the guitar, so we'll see where that comes from and whether it lasts.
Evening. A six o'clock and a seven o'clock Italian cops and robbers series on this evening that I've been willing to watch in the past. It's set just after the Second World War and it has that childish aspect in it that drives me up the wall about all of them. Nothing free is really free I guess.
You're worried about them seeming childish??? Who's that sitting in his (broken) chair watching it?
Now, now. Foyle's War is playing now, much easier to admit to, and I'm informed the replacement chair is on its way for this coming week.
A fair session with the guitar while I was watching, not quite two hours today, but over an hour and that's good for a day when there's a lesson. (We make up our own rules about these things and this one has faired fairly well.)
To bed early, there are two events in San Francisco over the weekend: the Autumn Moon Festival tomorrow in Chinatown and the Folsom Street Fair Sunday. The Folsom Street Fair has a weird scary edge, but the images are unique and so I won't skip out on it.