So Be It
Saturday. To bed last night around ten, the Foyle's War episode worth pushing bedtime a bit, up this morning after turning off the alarm and then sleeping in until eight, so a reasonable number of hours last night.
I walked to breakfast rather than driving remembering why a proper photographer gets up before sunrise for the light. I might do that one day. When I drive in the mornings at six-thirty it's still dark but, well, who knows? I do admit the light was really nice.
Anyway a picture of the pandoreas again and one or two pictures of scenes I've shot many times while walking back. The farmers market was starting to roll and the day ahead looked to be nice. I'm not thinking of going to San Francisco for the Autumn Moon Festival and I suspect I won't change my mind, so a decent walk later maybe to make up.
Later. A bus to the ATM on Broadway and then a walk on to the City Hall area thinking I'd check out the City Center (another original thought) for coffee and perhaps something to eat, entering the Frank Ogawa Plaza and hearing, in the distance, someone in the middle of a harangue on a sound system at the top of his amplified lungs in front of what appeared to be, from the shouted response, a large crowd. In front of City Hall? The fences protecting the new lawn were still in place and I couldn't see a gathering of any kind near the entrance.
Ah. Something was up on 14th Street, they'd blocked it off at Broadway and there were signs and tables and people gathered around listening to what were obviously religious leaders from a temporary stage in the middle of the street. I say religious leaders as they seemed to be from various denominations and churches, clearly a come one and all event. So naturally I took pictures.
A walk beyond then into the City Center where I wasn't able to conjure up anything I'd like to eat, so a walk on to Peet's thinking I'd have coffee there on the patio and wait to catch a bus due to arrive in another twenty minutes across the street. So far, so good. I could go on to the Eat Right festival in Jack London instead, I was turning this over more than half seriously, but decided a fairly firm not.
Some thoughts over coffee on my current situation, treading water in place, comfortably treading, but indeed treading and not finding or moving in any direction that made sense. It's hard to put the various current ups and downs such as the occasional double vision episodes (people were happily walking by in two's) in perspective. How much have they as a group been keeping me hunkered down and not thinking of, let alone venturing forth over these last years? If I'm thinking I should be doing something, well, doing something probably means getting out and going to places farther away than, say, the City Center?
There's some excellent how to turn your life around shows on PBS at the moment during their fund raising drives, all of which seem to offend you more than your piddly little Italian police procedurals.
Well, yes. True. But I've sent them my (award myself a gold star) subscriptions so I'm absolved from putting up with any of that. Life is (indeed) too short when it comes to public television marathons. I can't even listen to the band concerts featuring artists all of who's records I still have sitting up on the shelves anymore. We'll stumble forward as we sit.
Anyway, a bus back to the apartment staying on beyond to the morning café where I sat out at a table and had half an egg salad sandwich, ice cream and a lemonade, remembering the comment I'd made earlier about my most excellent diet. I did think of getting back on the bus and heading on down to Jack London again as I was sitting there musing, but remembered my aversion to extended journeys and long distance travel.
Evening. Another Beck at six that I've seen before and still didn't remember who it was who done it until the very end. By “seen before” I mean within this last year. I remembered elements of the thing, but it was in many respects like watching it for the first time.
I did repeat the newly assigned blues riff for over an hour while watching, we can't complain about that, and, what the hell, I guess I enjoyed it, but it remains interesting to see this can't remember the ending thing repeat itself night after night. A swell memory defect like this and I don't take advantage of it to watch old movies? I rarely read even the very good books more than once? Well, I don't. So be it.