And you?

Home last night, as I mentioned, bright eyed and modestly coherent just in time to watch my Japanese soaps, the first two of which were as dumb as ever, the third getting more interesting as the now eighteen year old Princess Atsu has met for the first time the man she's to marry in another month learning, somewhat to her consternation, he's a complete flip city whacko.

A harmless enough flip city whacko we've known about for some time now as viewers, but still your basic damaged goods “life is not on your side” whacko who must, given the fact he's the Shogun, be treated pretty damned seriously. A little jolting at any age to learn this guy is going to be your husband, I would think, Shogun or no. Now Princess Atsu is a famous character in Japanese history, so we suspect she's going to work it out with her whacko and do whatever's necessary to save the country. Again though, as I said, the series is interesting.

You understand your enthusiasm for Asian soaps, some without English subtitles, makes you a whacko in some people's eyes?

My friend, enthusiasms of any kind cause people pause.

Later. I had the usual need to get out of the apartment earlier so I talked myself into taking a bus downtown for a cup of coffee out on the veranda in front of Peet's Coffee followed by a twenty minute aimless walk along the bus route before hopping on a bus and coming home. I always feel better the moment I walk out the front door, no matter how I believe I'll feel before leaving, then I'll do whatever it is I'm going to do before running out of gas, usually sooner than later, before turning back and coming home.

So is this sinus-head thing better today, my prognosis brighter? For the moment I'll say yes, although who really knows when you have to throw the age thing into the calculation? So I've shrugged, taken one of the swell little pills they've prescribed and I'll see pretty soon if it goes away in say another hour for as much as an hour. I don't believe it's ever gone away for an hour except while I'm sleeping. Hi, ho. Maybe a nap now, similar to the nap I took earlier this morning after breakfast. The excitement. The excitement. The wind is just rushing by.

You're feeling sorry for yourself.

I shift gears too easily or maybe I downshift too easily and adjust to whatever's going on. I do rather enjoy my existence, but I seem to enjoy it as an observer without my life being of any more relevance to me than a movie, a movie that's interesting for the fact I'm the central character, the world is by itself, after all, a fascinating place, but it doesn't seem to matter if I'm vegetating at a computer here or white water rafting there, having my way with Ms. X, the eight hundred mile an hour woman or driving that dented fender Datsun. You'd think there'd be a difference. (There's a difference.)

The hurting head gets in the way of this or that? Well, we'll adjust and do something more manageable. Of course life as a movie is useful in keeping a journal, I suppose; useful to an artist as long their movie gets them excited enough or mad enough to do the crap required to actually write, paint or juggle in the ways the artist chooses.

What's the difference between your little realization and throwing in the towel?

I suspect that's what people are really asking when they suggest I'm too comfortably settled into my “rut” and I've generally been willing to think about what they're asking, turn it over again that one more time, judge it as a valid question. And it is a valid question, really, yet nobody seems willing to believe my answer.

And you believe your answer?

Dangerous to believe everything you say on any given day in Oakland.