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The Sole Prop's Sister?


Under here.

April 11, 2010

These Things Go
Sunday. Things don't seem to have gotten any better, different, but not better. Plenty of sleep, up two hours later than normal, to breakfast two hours later, back to take an hour's nap around ten. It's raining, supposed to rain through the end of the day tomorrow, so nothing lost in the way of outside adventure, but again, the day continues as the days have been doing since Monday: feverish, but not too feverish, in bed, out of bed; coughing.

I've had people say, yes, this has been going around, this is one that takes a long time to go away. OK. Makes you think though, as I'm laying there staring at the wall, what it might mean to live in another country, another neighborhood and not have a roof over your head, a log on the fire and something in the refrigerator when the grut strikes and you have to hunker down and wait for the crap to pass.

I'm not sitting here worried about where this is going, although I will get that chest x-ray next week, but you'd never know what the beginnings of a cough might mean if you lived in a place where you couldn't keep the rain from coming in and the doctors all lived in the big city down south. Haiti comes to mind. But I'm wandering again, not even keeping it between the lines, as I often wander, I'm afraid, even when the head is screwed on tight and the eyes are clear. Oh, the leaking eyes. There're gone, they've evidently taken care of themselves, so some progress can be reported. Progress is good. Progress, the American Way and all.

Later. I hadn't realized Ms. C had been close to Frank Zappa from the very early days throughout his life, learning this listening to an interview she did this afternoon on a New York radio station doing a Frank Zappa marathon. What little contact I had with the music industry was a with a different part, so nothing she discussed was related to anything in my experience, but I found listening to some of the stories a bit like coming in from a long afternoon run. Just sitting there, listening, seemed like a workout. Is that an aspect of age as well, the stories, other people's stories, bring both the highs and lows of your own? If so, I hope this doesn't get worse as time passes. Hard to listen to the old music anymore as it is.

Later still. The day mostly done. I won't list what I just ate for dinner except to say it was comfort food. To bed and sleep early, I hope, the temperature a little closer to normal, the cough that much further into the background. These things come and these things (mostly) go.

The photograph was taken on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley with a Nikon D3s mounted with an 85mm f 1.4 Nikkor AF lens at f 8 at 1/100th second, ISO 200.