Later. An hour and a half nap. My, my. And still tired.

A walk then to the morning café for a half egg salad sandwich, ice cream and a glass of lemonade. Taking my time walking, passing by the farmers market in full sway, noting the Women In Black in front of the theater, stopping on the way back to sit by the lake for a few minutes, a bride and groom and their photographers in the middle of a session along the lake. Too far away to take a picture, which is fine, as I don't believe in sticking my nose into a commercial session without an invitation. To click or not to click is always the question.

I hate to say it, but I think I'll take a crack at another nap. Just tired, none of the other unwelcome symptoms, but, you know, regular tired supercharged with a few steroids mixed in. Hmm. Nice day out there though, hope it holds through tomorrow.

Later still. Another hour's nap. An hour and a half, actually. Odd, but not something that hasn't happened in the past. Let's hope it doesn't last for more than a day, let's hope it's up and gone by tonight. Let's hope.

Started the guitar. Progress is slow, you mostly don't notice it from day to day except occasionally when there seems to be a jump. Not a large jump, but suddenly that chord change you've bungled so many times occurs on the beat. Or noticeably closer to the beat. Jump. Not a large jump, but a recognizable jump. No jumps so far this afternoon, but you never know.

OK, things go better. Some time futzing with images in Photoshop, stumbling across this taken in the early seventies of the stereo system in my one bedroom apartment overlooking San Francisco up on Twin Peaks.

I do remember the apartment. The washed out overexposed window overlooked the city from its position on the hill on out to the bay and beyond. I spent many an evening sitting on the couch watching the elaborate electric (now long gone) Hamms beer sign go through its paces. It was nice, that apartment, but nice during a period of stress - the job, the life, the “where in the hell am I going, what in the hell am I doing here” business - and not a time or a place I necessarily want to recall. Still, good to have the one image, funky as it is.

I suspect no one in the future will be without a ton of pictures to record their passage, what with digital technology and smart phones, no way to bury it forever in the past.

Evening. A repeat of a Swedish police procedural at six, watched it anyway while playing the guitar, nothing much on television through the rest of the evening, no particular desire to watch something online. So I went to bed just after nine.