Saturday. I talk about cruddy days, both for the overcast and for how the various maladies are treating me, and I guess this is another one. Slept in again until eight, drove to breakfast and back after nine, lay down to listen to the radio and take it easy for another hour or so before getting in gear again. Such has the morning been.

We'll leave it at that. I'll get out for a walk later just to see how I feel as generally they do me a lot of good, clear out the cobwebs, get the mind on other matters. There's a Moveon.org meeting down the way by the lake this morning at eleven, although I'm not sure what it is or if it might lend itself to photographs, particularly since it's twelve noon now as I write, an hour late and a camera short. We'll not worry about it.

So, what to say? The day has started, I'm hunkered down here inside, there's an afternoon ahead. I'm not sure what more can be said.

Later. A walk down through the farmer's market passing the white columns on the lake where, what I assume a wedding group was having their pictures taken, although I didn't see any sign of the bride or the groom. I often pass this fellow who's sitting in the corner of the picture practicing on his horn (Tibetan?). I usually say, well, he can't practice at home if he has thin walls and too many neighbors with an outfit like that, but I suspect there's a certain exhibitionist tendency adding to the mix. As have we all I guess.

Anyway, nothing else in the way of photographs, a Coke at the café, hopping on a bus home instead of walking, here now thinking of a nap although I'm not all that tired. Not a good day? Well, it's not over yet, we'll see.

Later still. Not tired? I believed that and then lay down for just a minute to listen to the radio and dropped into a good solid hour's sleep. Up now, the sky having cleared, the sun out, the news mumbling in the background. Maybe now play some guitar, we're falling behind letting it go so late (after three), but we'll see. The sun out, another walk? I suspect not.

Evening. With the evening arriving I admit I do feel better as most evenings seem to give me a pick up. I have no idea why. A bit of sake while playing the guitar, not a lot, but enough to ease the edges of the sinus-upper palate thing. The feeling better doesn't come from the sake and if I do overdo the sake it detracts, but a little goes a long way toward making things nice and round and, well, better. So good.

You know how that sounds, right? Sitting there bitching about the day until the late afternoon when it all starts to come together after a slug or three of cheap sake? How many old coots sit around drinking rum and then blame their inability to function on their age and errant children?

Well, that's what I'm doing, sitting here typing away between quick looks at Facebook. I'm getting old, but I'm not electronically illiterate. I do partake of one or two of the latest addictions. One does not pass up a good addiction merely because it's new, nor does one give up old destructive habits merely because they're dangerous if not watched. Not yet. It is cheap sake, though. Thank god for that.