Sunday. Up about an hour and a half later than usual without the alarm, overcast, off to breakfast and the papers. My waitress had brought me some pieces of foil wrapped Ghiradelli chocolate, so I had about half of what was on my plate and then finished off breakfast with the chocolate later when I got home. What the hell, she doesn't do it all that often. Nice of her. I do, evidently, tip quite well for one of her more ancient regulars.
Anyway, overcast, a slight mist like rain as I was driving home, here now listening to the blues channel on XM. I've been cancelling various services that I hardly ever use, finally getting my butt in gear, but I seem to be listening to the radio again, so maybe we'll let that one continue. I'm thinking of axing Netflix, but I do get and I do watch their movies, even if I find I let them sit sometimes for weeks, interested enough evidently to order them, not interested enough to watch most of them straight through They sit on top of the DVD player and gather dust. I'm sure Netflix loves it.
Not sure why I'm doing this, but it's been developing over a long time. I can see skipping the newer, made for a younger audience stuff; I can see why I might lose interest there, at least for the less well made ones, there are plenty of those, but I also avoid many of the ones you'd think would be more interesting to someone my age. This from a guy who's watched many a movie in his time. Makes me suspicious. Of myself.
The Clipper card didn't work yesterday, by the way. I asked the attendant whether or not she ran across many Clipper card problems or if I were the only one. She rolled her eyes. Evidently they're endemic. So I went in again this morning and set up their “automatic” payment schedule again. I did get an email right after saying the thing would activate in the next seventy-two hours, I didn't get one last week when I tried the same thing, so we'll see, maybe this one will work this coming week. Might. It's worked for others. I've seen it.
Later. A break in the rain, so a walk down the way to stick my nose in Walden Pond (books), look through their offerings, realize they were all very nice, but that I already had a million (some exaggeration here) photography books and that any I'd buy would be a matter of looking though it once before forgetting it up on a shelf. I don't need to do that anymore. I walked on then for a cup of coffee and a pastry twist (of some kind, both dry and tasteless), raining as I sat out at a table under their awning watching the people pass by. A walk then back by the theater to stand in line and see Red.
And what is Red? Well, Bruce Willis, Helen Mirren, Morgan Freeman, John Malkovich, Richard Dreyfuss and others playing at being retired CIA black ops folks who suddenly find themselves having some trouble with the old institution in that the CIA is trying to kill them. I'm sure there's a genre name for these, or, if there isn't, there will be soon. Old guys (and gals), still full of the old stuff and able to go around blowing up buildings and pounding the crap out of people (the younger the better) from morning til night.
Dangerous to go see one of these cold, given how really bad they can be when they get bad, but I'd read a positive note or two in the press and what the hell, it was a rainy Sunday afternoon, I was in the mood and I wasn't ready yet to go home.
No complaints. Not useful to analyze the thing, but your basic light hearted romp through death and destruction with bombs and Tommy guns. I enjoyed it, don't need to see it again. Probably don't need to see another out of the genre very soon again, but that's undoubtedly me just being cranky old me. We of such infinite good taste. I'm getting better at being cranky old me, even (you may have noticed) when I'm parking.
So the evening approaches, the sky still overcast but without rain, the evening ahead. A little time on the guitar later perhaps, see what's on television, finish this. Speeding along, here in Oakland.