Thursday. True Grit is more like Portis's book than the old John Wayne depiction. It's definitely a Coen brothers film, nice dialogue that gets stretched a bit here and again, more difficult to pull off on the screen than in the novel form, maybe, but still quite tasty and nice. No complaints. Had the right feel to it and a proper ending. I can see why it's doing well at the box office and I could see myself saying the same thing if it were doing badly. A good film. I've seen the John Wayne version, but a long time ago now and I don't really remember all that much of it, but I'm remembering it was a little softer than this Coen brothers rendition. Which for the time it was made is no surprise. I'm curious, though, if people who particularly liked the Wayne version also like this one.

I take it you went out and saw it last night.

Got a little antsy around six, drove down by the theater to see if I'd get lucky and find a parking space. Otherwise I figured I'd keep going to the supermarket, buy some needed items (including sake) and see it another time. There was indeed a parking space right by the theater, so I parked, walked down the way for a slice of pizza and an ice cream cone before entering and settling into a second row a seat. Polished off a box of Hot Tamales candy during the previews. Whooped it up. Overdid the eating. Enjoyed myself.

When I left I headed on to the supermarket for cheese, crackers and sake, got to bed before eleven feeling fine. Ate enough for two old sots thinking this is good, life loses more than a little if the appetite totally disappears. A day at the races, now and again, keeps the blood up, particularly if you occasionally mix in a little sake. Just a little, mind you, nothing to worry about. Here in Oakland.

OK, to bed at eleven, up without the alarm after eight, to breakfast and the papers and back under a nice bright sun. Although I'd picked up a couple of the 150ml bottles of sake last night, I had but one. Managed an enjoyable buzz and decided that was nice, no need to open another. Which I'll undoubtedly get into this evening. Not something I'd have thought much about or said in the old days (the days of wine and one or two roses), but we grow older and go through change. For the better, I suspect.

B.B. King is playing at the Fox theater next month so I bought a ticket online this morning. Right down in the first orchestra section. I'll ask at the box office if they allow cameras (without flash) in the theater. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't. Either way won't matter much, although it would be nice to take some photographs.

I don't go to many concerts, but I live within walking distance of two venues here in Oakland, the Fox and the Paramount, both big old theaters from the classic era, both having gone through massive renovation to now host some of the bigger, but non-stadium drawing bands on tour. So we'll listen to a little guitar.

Later. A walk downtown under a bright sun, the air cool and crisp, a nice late morning ramble. I sat out at a table in the City Center for a while, nothing much going on, people passing, but not all that many given it was the noon hour. A walk then over to the old office building to sit out in front of Peet's with a coffee and a raspberry something or other, taking one or two pictures more out of desperation than inspiration I'm afraid. But that's OK. No rules about how the morning should go. A walk then back up Broadway, turning on Grand to wait on a bus. Home after two. Feeling good.

Yes, the sinus-upper palate thing was doing its thing, the eyes seeing double now and again as I looked to the right or the left. The idea more than the reality gets in the way. Is this something I have to live with from here on out? Does it imply, well, more? Who knows? The medicos aren't saying much other than all the tests they've run (and they've run a bunch) look good. Who knows?

Other than that I seem to be picking up energy and ambition as this year begins. Futzing with the pictures, hanging more framed photographs, feeling better about the guitar, getting out to a movie now and again (as I did last night). We'll see. I'm too prone to saying the world has turned on its axis at the slightest provocation, so I'll leave it at this, but what the hell? No reason not to enjoy these days, now that they're my days, slip some fun in before the fun cop makes it stop.

Fun cop?

Who knows? There's probably one in residence somewhere down there in the allegator brain, keeping a low profile, but poking you with a stick when you start to notice you're alive (and well, in Dingle Dell). Then again maybe we're just babbling away as we will. Here in Oakland.