Feel pretty good. Cool and crisp out there, overcast, grey, but again, the attitude and the various body parts seem reasonably in order. Always good to have your various body parts in order, none of them calling out for attention, nothing overtly fuzzing the head. Not that everything is perfect, but, well, you get the drift. Not that I'm ever whiny enough to bring such things up. Of course. Not here in world wide journal land.

We'll get out for a walk this morning, we're falling behind with the walks, not something I want to become a habit.

Later. To the morning café (where else?) by way of the ATM over on Lakeshore, walking over the hill on Mandana (hup!) passing a little guy painted on wood attached to the base of a telephone pole (that I've photographed in the past) and then his brother farther on, this one beside a small companion. I don't remember if it had the small companion the last time I took its photograph. Well, when you're out there you've gotta photograph something.

Lunch was a chocolate laced pastry (more than I needed), vanilla ice cream and lemonade, my waitress charging me all of two dollars for the lot, each of these entrées on the menu costing more than two dollars. What the hell, feels good to leave a two hundred and fifty percent tip and I still come out ahead. The morning clouds had long since cleared, the sun was shining, the temperature was good, but a bus came by and hup! (I was home again.)

To take a nap. To lie down for a little while. For what reason? Well, a little tired, some evidence of something coming on toward the end, but just for a while toward the end and then it was gone and I was again up and about. So good. There's a guitar to tune to begin the day's practice and I've spent more than enough time now screwing around on the web.

Evening. Another Don Mateo playing at six, not one I can watch. I wonder if I could watch a Don Camillo again, a wonderful series of books originally written in Italian from 1950 to 1970 by Giovanni Guareschi and adapted decades ago into a TV series and one or two movies, the second and last of the movies starring Terrance Hill, the Don Mateo in this current Don Mateo thing at six. I suspect I still could. But I babble as I too often babble over nothing.

I've spent a couple of hours on the guitar with much of the evening yet ahead. The playing goes well, but not yet really listen-able. Two years of not yet really listen-able. Well, another two hours left to add to the practice if I decide to get to bed again at nine. So far this bed at nine seems to be working. No complaints.

I've gone back and forth this evening looking for a movie to watch as I've given up on TV. I still buy the occasional music CD when something comes along that peaks my interest, although I don't really listen to anything anymore on the radio and finding new music isn't easy. I've heard new things that would have interested me a lot more when I was younger, but the fire is but smoldering now after what was a red hot blast in the past. (sorry)

My relationship with the movies is even worse. When's the last one I've walked down the street to see? When's the last time I've bought one? I've never been good about watching a movie twice, although I've done so in the past when they just weren't available unless you owned them on tape or plastic, years ago buying many of the off the wall ones that I really liked.

And all this is leading to what?

Can't find a god damned movie anywhere on the shelves that I want to watch. Maybe just take one down and put it on, see what results.