The haircut at ten-thirty, so plenty of time to look over yesterday's half finished entry. I guess they're all half finished entries, half might be giving them too much credit, but such is the way I've decided to do it, I guess, so no excuses or complaining.

Yet you do.

Just conscience, I guess.

And I'm your conscience?

No, you're Self, the observer, capable of all kinds of craziness and error, just succumbing to it less often than the scrivener.

Later. A bus to the Broadway ATM and then a walk on down Broadway to the City Center to arrive just in time for the ten-thirty appointment. Nice morning, shirt sleeve weather, a bit warmer when I returned just before noon. Well, t-shirt weather when I returned home at noon and even then....

The haircut was finished some five minutes after the bus had arrived, so over to the bagel shop for coffee and a raspberry something out at a table, people setting up for the band to begin playing at noon. Too long to stay and listen, so a walk over to the bus stop and not detouring to go by Latham Square to take a picture of the small group of workers who'd been adding additional seats and such as I'd passed them by earlier. So no pictures.

There were a couple of messages on Twitter (under #Oakland) this morning saying there were police cars all over the place on Highway 580 where it crosses Grand, then a message saying there'd been an event of some kind in the vicinity of 400 Crescent Street, a street nearby but on the other side of the highway. Which fit with the sirens and the helicopter hovering overhead.

Then, of course, returning from the haircut I checked the Tribune web site and they reported the snafu had been due to the police chasing of a stolen car that had ended with an overturned SUV on Highway 580 at Grand. A stolen car ending in a crash, but not an altercation of some kind on Crescent Street as I'd interpreted one tweet to have reported. Another Twitter morning in Oakland as it's filtered through a reader's brain.

Otherwise, it's noon. Feel pretty good, the hair much shorter, the sideburns evened out when I got home. My hair stylist doesn't have a good eye for balancing sideburns, which is nice if that's the only problem you have for a day or the week ahead. I do have a mirror and an electric razor. No complaints.

Later still. A walk to the morning restaurant for lunch, thinking, as I was taking a first bite from the cheeseburger: “isn't this one of those foods I've been carping/complaining/bitching about that causes these weird effects and hallucinations?” And I answered I guess it was, although I hadn't had the thought until it arrived.

This is to give people confidence in your firm grasp on reality?

I'm not sure. I start feeling pretty good and the memories of feeling less good seem to fade. I'm not sure of the why, just the fact that it seems to keep happening. Maybe I don't really believe it's the food, maybe my brain isn't really a brain, maybe all this is just another day's hallucination.

Still a picture or two while walking home along the lake, the bee entering the picture just as I was tripping the shutter. A city bee, no doubt. I wonder where it hangs out?

Evening. An new Swedish detective series at six, this one with another unsympathetic character who doesn't grow on you with time. Maybe in the following chapters, but not in tonight's. Still, infinitely better than the Wednesday-Thursday Korean set in ancient times soap, so no questions to which to watch. Best the family migrated from Iceland and Denmark if this was their daily fare. It seems old Ingmar Bergman movies were closer to the norm than I once liked to think.

You're just b.s.'ing.

True. We'll see if there isn't something on later to change the mood.

After: Hmm. To bed before nine.