Sunday. Lights out by ten, but then awakening and spending what I'm guessing was at least an hour half asleep, too aware I wasn't asleep to call it sleep, and then awake for good just after six. A little slow getting up and getting ready to drive, but feeling clear headed and such, and so out the door on another sunny morning. Nice day. Arrived at seven to find the restaurant had just opened.

OK, Sunday papers, wade through all three. Had the single pork chop, scrambled eggs, country potatoes, toast and coffee for breakfast finishing up at close to nine. A story or two in the Times I may got back to finish on the web, but otherwise a clear day ahead. Still have the Laurel Street Fair and Pistahan Festival running here in Oakland and over in San Francisco respectively, but I'd already realized yesterday I wasn't going either day. Maybe we're in a dry period? For ambition? For photographs? Maybe, maybe, but don't know why.

But worried it has something to do with this aging business.

Not good to dwell too much on that.

Later. The PGA Tournament started on television at eleven and so watched it for about an hour before retiring to the bedroom to watch the Sunday episode of Mr. Sunshine, an odd Netflix Korean series I've been following, and then back to the tournament at one. My, my. Quite a game. Tiger's behind right now by one.

Later still. Interesting game, Tiger finishing finally in second place two strokes behind. Skipped watching most of the two Elementary episodes that for some reason started an hour early at four while futzing around on the guitar. Been a while since I've picked up the guitar, interesting to see the fingering be so accurate when I started. You'd think you'd fumble and miss when first picking it up, but instead it was tight and then deteriorated over time with playing.

Evening. The PBS stations are raising money and I usually avoid the music related programs they run as promotions, but got caught up in a Buddy Holly biography, how he influenced so many acts that followed him including many of the British invasion bands.

I remember hearing of the plane crash that killed him, he, Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper, listening to AM radio one night when I was in high school. Only learned until much later that Valens and Wayon Jennings had flipped a coin to see who would take the one last open seat on the flight.

Still have a number of the old Buddy Holly .45's. Interesting discussion by other musicians who played or were influenced by him on his technique and expression, more interesting perhaps as I was plinking along as I was listening on the guitar.