Tuesday. As mentioned, the dinner last night went well, I felt fine, enjoyed the conversation with everything winding up nicely. Up this morning a little later after turning off the alarm, to breakfast and back with a reasonably clear head. This is the norm, the breakfast goes well, but the later morning will then at times go to hell. Let's see how it goes this morning on this another day in June.

One of the effects is the lack of clarity when I'm writing. Don't like that, would be more embarrassed if the head were clear enough to comprehend the damage. Whatever's going on is going to continue I guess, so we'll do what we can to take notes to let the medicos have as clear a picture as I can make it on the chance it might cause a light bulb go off. You never know. Hope springs eternal, even here in the vast subterranean nightmare of back alleyways in old Oakland. Near a lake. On the run.

Later. Mid-afternoon and things are OK, not the ups and downs of yesterday, so I guess we'll stick a sock in it. A really nice day outside, the temperature warm without being too warm, one of the reasons so many of us are attracted to the place. A picture or two when I again walked down the way to the morning café for a cup of coffee out at a patio table. A decent walk, but a slow take all going on around me in as I was walking, nothing you could reasonably qualify as exercise.

Best to get on the guitar now, my lesson tomorrow. Progress, but I haven't really put enough time in to master this week's lesson, not that deforming your hand to make the four fret spread, anyway. I suspect it can't be done in only a week. Or a life. Still, I know I could have done more. We'll say it and skip the guilt.

Later still. OK, another hour's practice while watching the news. We'll get in another hour later. I'm realizing there are tricks to the stretch the fingers business and it takes time to figure them out. I've now played it at least a couple of times where it sounded halfway decent. Fairly esoteric and useless fact if you don't know guitar, but it's the only success I've had this day so I'll say it.

Evening, later. Feels like a late night weekend, an urge to put the The Concert For George on the player, sip a glass or two of Merlot and listen to the music. Brings back many a time years gone by, the music seeping into the brain like brine pickling a cucumber. The process is not altogether unpleasant. I know, old stuff, a bit icky, but when it works it really works. I even listened to the Ravi Shankar section, the daughter's performance followed by the Jeff Lynn collaboration before I cut to the songs up and through While My Guitar Gently Weeps. Sue me, I'm unrepentant.