After A Nap
Saturday. Breakfast at the usual place at seven, an hour before the meters start working, parking right in front. A ride downtown on the bus later, a walk then to Jack London Square to photograph the sailing ship harbored there through the 5th, few people in evidence at eight-thirty in the morning when I arrived. A good night's sleep, but tired for all that. One reason for the walk. Need to do the walking if these next few years are going to be, um, “productive”.
Productive?
Well, there was this thin old dude on the bus coming back talking continuously to all who might listen, commenting on anything and everything we passed, letting us know the exact hour, day and year of his birth (he's six years younger than I); the street and number where he lived; the fact the Kaiser building on the lake was the highest building west of the Mississippi river until fifteen years back (I certainly don't believe that) and I was thinking, as this was going on (my Zen lesson for the day, by the way) I didn't want to get where he was any sooner than required and if more walking would put that day off, then walking it would be.
Now the specificity of what he was saying - the numbers, the streets, what he passed to us as facts, facts, facts - is probably due to a syndrome of some kind he's had his entire life, but the Zen lesson learned was: one, what was it about his chatter that got me even mildly upset, what did that upset say about me and, whether his rambling was related to hard living and age or a mis-wired brain, why not use the experience as an impetus to keep me huffing and puffing along the local streets? A free session with an analyst provided by A.C. Transit for the price of a ticket and the garrulous Mr. X.
Don't you have a party to attend later this afternoon? The Kentucky Derby?
Yes, but after a nap.
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