Or Something
OK, April 1st, the Fool's Day, my day, and tomorrow, my bucko's, is the first day of a five day vacation. I believe there is a Saint Stupid's Day parade in San Francisco, which I have successfully missed these last few years, and an anti-war parade just down the street in Oakland. If I feel as well as I've felt today, I plan to shoot pictures. Or does that jinx it? Saying it out loud? Haven't had many days of not being dizzy and I'm looking forward to pampering myself, seeing how naps and long morning breakfasts at the cafe down the street might affect my head.
And, I don't know, pay some bills, look at cars, fix ArtandLife. If you've looked at it using Netscape and it doesn't display, it means I haven't fixed it yet. I may one day fix the journal here for Netscape users, but not this week, not over this long weekend and, who knows, maybe never. Cause I'm lazy. And unrepentant.
Incompetent?
Nah. Never incompetent. Unrepentant. A mixture of not much interested beyond achieving modest success mixed with a little BS. I find life spreads more easily when it's mixed with a little BS. There is an opinion, shared by some, that true success in your art, in your life, whatever your art or your life might be - and by success I mean good art and a good life rather than fame or money - requires long hours and mind numbing dedication. My own approach is to take a stab at it after breakfast, see how it goes, think about it over lunch a little before making social plans for dinner. "Modest success."
This is going around in circles. You started saying you were taking some time off for a needed rest. Where'd this "BS and modest success" come from?
Well, I stopped off at the local 7-11 look alike on the way home and bought a large bottle of Corona Extra cerveza (mas fina) to celebrate. I wasn't so much in the mood as I felt it a necessary, or, at least, a traditional way to celebrate. Corona Extra cerveza (mas fina) can make you lose your line of thought, particularly if you're trying to pin it down on paper. So I'm drifting.
We'll see. These five days will go by quickly. I'm going to sleep in as late as I'm able for five days, take my time doing things, no need to do anything. I say I'm going to shoot St. Stupid's and the Oakland ant-war demonstration, but I'm going to do it if I have the energy and the desire. St. Stupid's will require a trip to San Francisco and walking to North Beach, so who knows if I'll get it together, but the anti-war demonstration is just down the street and if I can't get it together for that, then maybe I'll know more than I want to know about my current condition. An upbeat dude would see it as a sign to fly to Hawaii immediately and spend the month sitting on a beach drinking party colored liquids, a downbeat dude would, well, I'll let you know. I have to admit, this 24 ounce bottle of beer I've just drunk doesn't make me feel all that good. The idea's nice, but the reality ruins the writing. Or the beer ruins the reality. Or something.
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