Monday. Alcohol, even small amounts, does affect one's writing, but no excuses for last night's ramblings as I was relatively clear headed this morning when I went over it and made only minor changes. Up a good hour after the alarm getting in a good night's sleep, up to drive to breakfast and back on a sunny morning in the middle of December. They're saying it will get into the sixties later.
Not sure all this babbling over a couple of drinks has anything to do with this introspective (aches and pains and strange apparitions) phase of our existence. Introspection interrupted now and then by guitar practice and photographs. Still, we're in new territory here and we'll persevere, filling it all in with alliterative adjectives and similar nonsense.
Later. A nap. A short nap, but a nap before heading out along the lake and then on to Lakeshore and the bagel shop where I had a small coffee I wasn't able to finish. Lots of people at the outside tables and walking along the sidewalk.
A walk to the nearby ATM again - what the hell, I was there, maybe it wouldn't be convenient when I really needed to do it later - and then on again by the lake and home. I'd read this morning in the Chronicle that the Audubon bird count that will be released next month is showing about half the number of birds this year over last year.
I've been wondering for a while now, hadn't there been quite a few more on the lake last year or was I, ahem, misremembering? From the article maybe not. Plenty of geese, but half the Canvasbacks, Lesser Scaups and Buffleheads. They have no idea why.
I admit to being down this morning and on through the walk for coffee. Winter blahs? The Christmas season? Holiday enervation? Feel better now, the head clearer, the weather out there nice under a warm sun. Up and down, I guess. Babble, babble. Part of the process.
Rationalize any down feelings you may have on last night's alcohol.
Blame it all on alcohol: a depressing day, this year's diminished bird population, the tilt of the sun. Five days now until the winter solstice and the sun begins rising again over the horizon on its long march toward spring. Warmer weather in a couple of months. Logical, inevitable and true, although I'm not sure that helps in the here and now, the reptile mind not overly logical.
Evening. More guitar going over the same chord changes. Over and over the same chord changes sneaking a look at another song or two for a change in pace. Best the lesson is tomorrow and we can graduate on to something new and different.
There's a Scott & Bailey at nine which I will inevitably watch, but nothing until then. Both Scott and Bailey, two women detectives (along with their female boss), are hopeless managers of their personal lives, which is interesting, but their missteps pale in comparison with the men around them.
Is it they attract, through their own not having gotten it together situations, totally defective male companions? Where did they find these guys? Hard to say. Created and written by two women who are obviously having fun with this thing. As am I.
You do babble.
I do babble. Still, you learn more about yourself in these reactions than you do about a BBC “who done it?“ created for television. I suspect.