Read His Stuff
Tuesday. Watched movies in bed last night on the tablet, but still got to sleep not long after ten. I think. Yesterday was a good day for photographs, even though I'm not sure I managed one picture of merit. Still, as said, a good day shooting.
Awake with the alarm, the brain and the day kicking-in soon after, off to breakfast on another overcast morning. Just the slightest mist in the air, not something you'd think of as rain. Back to fumble with yesterday's entry before posting and then prepare for the guitar lesson later this afternoon. We've missed our last two lessons: one for the bad knee, one for my teacher's vacation in Peru. I'm thinking, as I'm almost always thinking on a Tuesday morning, maybe a little more practice will save the day before I set out.
Later. The usual mid-morning walk to look at the construction site, the second floor coming along and leaving fewer places from which to take photographs. The scaffolding had been removed from the wall they were building at the site entrance across from my street, and so a photograph to note their progress. A picture of green hoses in parallel lines across the floor (what are they for?) from the Bellevue side and that was it.
Home to lie down, watch the end of the marginal Netflix/Amazon flick I'd started yesterday (Amazon seems to be serious in their online movie venture) before catching a bus to the lesson. Coffee in the Rotunda building before the lesson itself (my long suffering guitar teacher was very patient, must be a shock after a week with his fiancé and her family in Peru). I stumbled through Creedence Clearwater's Fortunate Son without too much damage to the ego and then snagged the bus back to the apartment. Such was our guitar Tuesday: we survived.
Evening. Odd. Clear headed, the vision clear after what I'm now realizing was a somewhat problematic day. Feel good right now (which is good), but it puts the morning and afternoon in perspective. I wish I had some idea of what is causing all this. Be sad if it turned out to be something really obvious and (in retrospect) easy to fix (the side effects of one of the morning pills, something in the coffee I've been drinking with breakfast, sleeping on a pillow leaking chemicals?) since it really gets in the way.
Nothing on television, to bed early, maybe read more of Mr. Murikami's opus. For all my not reading much other than magazines anymore, I still seem to be able to read his stuff.