Thursday. Lights out and radio off by nine forty-five, to sleep soon after and awake at fifteen minutes to six: all in all a decent night's rest. Overcast, but not too cold this morning and so off to breakfast to arrive at five minutes to seven, right on schedule, the restaurant open and ready for business.

The two strips of bacon, eggs over medium, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee for no particular reason, finishing up at eight forty-five and set out for home, taking the usual series of pictures. Not sure what's happening with the tree in (for its size) the small pot. Survived after the large pot it was planted in was destroyed on this section of sidewalk?

Home, the usual selfie in the lobby, up to wrestle with yesterday's over long entry, the usual why this, why that internal dialogue. How do we get out of this rut? Maybe we don't.

More walking.

And ice cream.

Later. Somewhat similar to, but a better day today than yesterday. Another last minute decision to catch the bus and so packed a camera with a long lens in the backpack and headed for the stop, arriving two minutes ahead of the bus instead of the one minute I managed in catching it yesterday. Got off at Broadway thinking I'd check out a jazz performance I'd heard was happening at Franklin and 22nd starting at noon, as good an excuse as any to get outside.

Arrived before the group was due to start and so walked over to the nearby construction site on Valdez taking two or three pictures with the long lens camera I'd brought for the concert. Ah, well. Back to Franklin and 22nd to briefly take more pictures before walking home, the head in its screwed up fog, stopping at the burger drive-in to bring home a grilled chicken sandwich. Tired, yes, but nothing like yesterday's outing that knocked me out for the rest of the day. Still, not how you'd want to feel when you're out after pictures.

Seventy degrees here by the lake. I did get stopped and asked if I was the actor Ron Perlman as I was setting out for home. The first time anyone's asked me that in some time now, at least a year or two if memory serves, when I was asked by various people maybe a dozen times if I were the actor. Some of those people asking seemed reasonably clear-eyed and relatively sane, only proving the mind and memory can do strange things even in the relatively young.

Evening. Watched the Italian Transatlantic Ties – Part 2 at six, a police unit pursuing the Sicilian Mafia with very mixed results, the program ending with the assassination of the policeman leading the charge. Evidently based on real life events back in the 70's (80's?), as what happened to some of the characters after the assassination was described in the ending credits. At least there were no characters included for comic relief that usually make most of these Italian series unwatchable. And French series. IM(less than)HO.

Still you watched.

I did and I'm describing it in the same sloppy, not really thought through, manner needing a whole lot more effort. Figures.