Thursday. Everything has shifted an hour forward this morning, getting to bed last night an hour later than I like, up this morning a hour later, back home at nine instead of eight.

I enjoyed the concert last night, finding that I'd bought a ticket up in the mezzanine area to the far left, thinking for some reason until I arrived I'd gotten a seat in the orchestra. Should have looked more closely at the ticket. I bought it online the minute I heard is was available, but the show was obviously close to sold out when I connected, my one hundred fifty dollar seat just one of the many back up in the bleachers compared to the two hundred and fifty dollar seats near the stage.

No complaints. No, really, a good evening, a good time, not the end all and be all of concerts, but then I have never gone to that many concerts and have no way to compare. It brought back memories, many memories, and reminded me of the present: we are as a generation heading toward our last stand. Not bad. You can run with that. Odd to say better we end with a joke than a whimper.

Later. The usual need to get outside kicked in so I walked over by the lake noting the number of geese vacuuming the lawn. The larger goslings seemed to be in place, the four of them seemingly flourishing, but I noticed there were now but two of the smaller brood. Bite size was the thought that wanted to intrude. Maybe there's a third back home at the nest with a chest cold, but somehow I suspect there isn't and goose life goes on. Here in the roasted goose galleries of the Oakland hills. In the shade of the Oakland hills where the people live.

But that's sounding a little blue. A walk on then around the area ending up at the usual place for a bagel with cream cheese and a small coffee. I've been having them cut the coffee with hot water. I drink about the same amount, but it goes down more easily. So a sit out at one of their tables, the head still in its brain salad a bit too much vinegar phase, a bus then back home to sit here now at the computer. I suspect the afternoon will get better just as the weather seems to have improved, the sun breaking through white grey edged clouds.

Later still. It's now six. My, my. Just like that. I've spent a couple of hours now on the guitar playing barre chords (and here I thought getting between regular A, B, C chords on the beat was a challenge) and learning a simple tune to play against a recorded rhythm track. What the hell, just play my bucko, practice, let the days roll by and watch it all happen. I'm still on my play every day for two years before I even think of complaining plan, we're only half way there. Hup! hup! (and the rest of that stuff).

You're fighting it?

Not really, but there's at least one of the barre chords that's going to require a callous on the side of my ring finger if it's going to be even halfway comfortable to play. Callouses take time. They do. I know. They're still gaining territory on my fingertips. (Hup! Hup!)

You're bragging.

I've been thinking I've finished developing callouses on my fingertips now for, well, a year, saying “hooray for me!” and yet they continue to prove me wrong as they continue to grow harder and thicker. They don't look weird yet, but you can see them now, hard little pits and depressions on the fingertips. My guess is there's still a good way to go before I can say they're finished and I can start bragging, but I'll certainly let you know when they do.

Evening. So much for getting my monthly blood thinner test tomorrow morning. I could go, but they sent me another blood test to go along with it and it requires fasting for twelve hours before and no alcohol for twenty-four. I was prepped, I'd prepared, but then I realized what I really needed in this life was another sushi dinner and a large flask of their sake, this being a Thursday you understand. What the hell. I've now done more guitar, more than enough for the day, the attitude good. With or without sake, the late afternoons and evenings seem to go so much better than the late mornings and early afternoons with the exception of the occasional ocular migraine, something I've said before.

So you fuzzed it with sake.

So I fuzzed this early evening with sake, got a second wind on the guitar, played a bit of this and that and now that it's approaching nine and I'm feeling fine (and the sake has pretty much worn off). I'm ready to turn in early for a good night's sleep. We are into treating ourself well, these days, no telling how many good ones we may have left, so I say enjoy.

All the children's stories ever written or told suggest your attitude will lead to a bad end. Close your ears, children, don't listen to this man.

It's only the Puritans who read their children such stories after tucking them into a cold bed between starched sheets; our old Norse ancestors told us to loose the boats and set sail - storm, sun; midday, midnight; drunk, sober - with a song in our heart, a sword in our hand and don't worry about the morrow.

I suspect that sake hasn't quite quit for the evening.