Anyway, another sunny day, up with the alarm to head over to breakfast and back, setting out for my guitar lesson in another half hour. Are we prepared? Yes, I have the song down, but the playing could be better. The rule is the playing could always be better, but I'm OK with the way it sits. We'll revisit this conceit when I get back.

Later. Went reasonably well. Played right through the song with but a misstep or two, my technique needing more work in the way I've been holding my picking hand, but nothing I can't mend. An old lesson reassigned for this week, Cream's Sunshine of Your Love, a simple set of progressions and chords, but never simple in the execution to make it sound like, well, Sunshine of Your Love. So good. We can do this.

A walk then to the UPS outlet to ship a now redundant lens to my sister, nice to get it done, farther on then to the morning cafe for a bun, ice cream and coffee. We're still keeping our low calorie profile for the while, I'm still dealing with those (now three) extra pounds. Easy to let it get out of hand, I have much experience from my younger days as a blimp. Maybe not a blimp, but wider than one might at the time have hoped.

Later still. Another day draws to a close. We'll do some guitar and some more prints (not sure about the prints) for my project and call it a day. The Cherry Blossom Festival tomorrow and Sunday, although my guitar teacher is presenting a concert with his students on Sunday afternoon, so I may go there instead. One long day at a festival over a weekend may well be more than enough.

My instructor found a video photographer to record the bands on Sunday, so I'm off the hook, although it would still be an opportunity to try video on the Nikon D4. I did buy the Nikon microphone in preparation, I must have had something in mind when I did it.

Evening. We skipped the Italian police procedural at six, didn't bother to see how it might start, listened to the last half of Democracy Now while making prints. I wondered if I'd get to them today, discovered, once I'd started, it took over and I became conscious again after I'd done some half dozen in a whiz.

The last can of red clam sauce with spaghetti for dinner, we'll think about it for a while before we order them again. A dozen cans consumed in a month? Every third day? Seems excessive. Can one live on red clam sauce now that the ocean is a cess pool of radioactive mercury? I suspect. It is red clam sauce. Might consider it for an epitaph.

To bed after nine. We'll see if we can't get this to bed at nine down to a science so we do in fact fall off to sleep on the dot or, if that's no longer in the cards, on the dash.