The day started well enough without the alarm, up at seven to head out to breakfast at the usual place, the day ahead. Looked at yesterday's entry when I got home, futzed with it a bit and then headed for bed to lie down for a while. To close the eyes, feeling scattered, far from sharp enough to deal with the journal.

Up then near noon, another look at the journal, some attempts at CPR before giving up again and heading out to the morning café for lunch as I was hungry. I'd had the plain waffle with the sliced bananas and strawberries with coffee this morning, these along with their complementary small bowl of orange slices, watermelon and cantaloupe, none of which should have caused any trouble.

But, as said, off to have lunch, but deciding to have a waffle with butter and syrup this time along with a dish of ice cream. No grilled meats, nothing more dangerous than butter and syrup (and not that much syrup) and no coffee, none of these should have been an issue.

Another photographer, sitting at one of the patio tables, noticed the camera and came over to say hello. I hadn't seen the Nikon D600 he was carrying and we got into a conversation about what it was we'd been shooting, what with, how long - the usual stuff - but then moved on into art, life and our current human condition. Quite a long conversation, made me realize how unusual it is for me to have more than superficial “hello-goodbye” exchanges anymore.

So back to the apartment, again starting to feel a bit wiggy. Hmm?I sat down for one more go through of yesterday's entry, but realized I was fumbling and confused while posting, wasn't sure what I'd gotten up to the web site and if the links were working, did one last check, said the hell with it and spent another half hour lying down staring at the ceiling. Well, at one of the pillows.

No complaints, whatever it was went away (the intense odd feeling-tasting-hard to describe mouth this time, with the bright blotches when the eyes are closed) and so now it's four in the afternoon and things are again “normal”, if I can still remember “normal”.

But how do I blame this on diet? A second waffle? The idea of eating one right now makes me feel queasy, maybe an indication there was something unusual about it, but a waffle and (mocha chip - ha! flakes of chocolate!) ice cream? No coffee, no lemonade? Time for something radical: no more rationalizations, stop eating breakfast at the café for a while, eat nice non-adulterated cereal in the mornings (if they still make such), no eating out for lunch, clear the palate if not the head.

You mean that?

I don't know. These things come, they're unpleasant, more in the sense you need to lie down for a while, but when they're gone, they're gone and you're up again feeling better. Still, they seem to be coming along more often. Time to do something about it. Probably now. Right now.

Evening. OK, we've positively nailed one culprit. Irrationally, after this morning and afternoon, I had a shot of whiskey early in the evening that lead almost immediately to an over the top episode, so alcohol is now out. No question: to bed right away in the middle of this “hallucinatory” episode at eight, whiskey on an empty stomach. No more (he said, stamping his foot). Clearly alcohol no longer agrees with however the brain is now wired, all rationalizations to the contrary. Let's hope it's enough. Let's hope we're right, this night.