Under The Sun
Sunday. To bed last night at a decent hour, feeling good, probably apparent from the sake aided description. No complaints. Up a little slowly, but up not that long after the alarm to lug three Sunday papers to breakfast at the usual place and read them over an avocado omelet. You can't say you've “read” them really in the space of a couple of hours, but read is close enough for me.
Overcast, a little cold, the weather people saying “partly cloudy”, high in the mid-sixties. Partly cloudy covers a lot of territory, some of it nice, some of it not so nice, most of it in between. We'll know soon enough. On this still problematic morning.
Later. A nap or sorts and then a walk over to the lake, the sky now clear, but still chilly after eleven and so wearing a sweater and a jacket.
The now usual collection of migratory birds out on the lake, but noticing the fountain in front of the white columns was gone. Had they taken the head in for repair? No more fountain? My, my. The fountain area was full of birds, mostly gulls, yes, but also a large number of Mallards. The three permanent residents plus a dozen others. Passing through? Here for a holiday get together? What entrées might Mallards prefer for their family Thanksgiving dinner?
Back now at the apartment. Nothing going on downtown on a Sunday, nothing I'm aware of at Jack London Square, my exploratory perimeter continues to tighten. A drive? No meters to feed, there's often parking, why not? Or BART. To San Francisco? You have no idea how leaden the idea feels. There was a time I'd head to Berkeley, walk along Telegraph near the University, have a slice of pizza, but no longer.
You do repeat yourself with your I'm hiding inside soliloquy.
I do. Maybe a trip north for Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving or Christmas. I'll do one or the other, see what's happening with the rest of the older coots contemporaries in the family. A drive or a train, one or the other. Better the drive for pictures.
Later still. Well, nothing's changed about destinations, nothing appeals. A walk outside just to get outside realizing it was time for the bus heading for the morning café to arrive, crossing the street to the lake and seeing it in the distance. Kismet. Coincidence. Whatever. A ride to the usual place.
Coffee out on the patio, not hungry after having had a bowl of cereal earlier at the apartment, back then along the lake to the apartment taking a picture of the fountain area with fewer birds this time to note the lack of the fountain. Revolutionary stuff for a Sunday, I'd say. I do wonder if it's out for repair/maintenance and will reappear this coming week. As I said: excitement.
We'll start earlier on the guitar. A good day yesterday, got down another chord change and improved the others I've been working on now in what seems like forever. But they/we are getting better. You just play them, you don't think about the fingers - which one goes where, put the one down and then the next and then the next - you just press fingers against the strings. In guitars that's progress.
A nice day. Out in a sweater earlier without the jacket, the sliding glass balcony door open at the moment, but without the fan.
Evening. Another nap and I seem to be rested. Now, rested, does that mean I won't get to sleep this evening? If I get to bed on time? Why ask with an attitude like mine?
No idea what's on television. Nothing at six, obviously, although the Italian series, Cesare Mori at nine, looks to be one I haven't seen. Now's the time for the TiVo, but it is able to see, but not receive, the station. It connects to everything else under the sun but that one. And we really would like to get up with the alarm in the morning.