Go To Jail
Sunday. We did get to bed early, we did get right to sleep and we got up at seven feeling more like a human being. Just like that. Off to breakfast and back, the sun breaking through the clouds as I was returning and I'm off (I'm guessing) to the Autumn Moon Festival later in San Francisco. I really wondered if I'd be saying that yesterday, given where my head was at.
And where was your head, exactly?
Somewhere where one doesn't go traipsing afield shooting photographs in every which place, where one doesn't do much more than attempt a chain of fruitless naps. If I could express what it is in words, I would, but evidently I can't.
Which means it's unique to you? No one else has ever experienced it?
No. I suspect I'm carping fruitlessly over nothing, given the endless range of really serious maladies out there in the world. It's just something you experience directly or you don't experience it at all. One of life's simple rules - you can't really describe something like a color or a feeling with just words, a confusing concept only to the slow of wit and aging photographers.
Later. I did pack the long lens camera in the backpack, getting ready to head out for San Francisco and the Autumn Moon Festival, before looking at my watch and realizing I still had time before the bus arrived to take the camera out of the backpack, switch lenses (the 70-200mm for the 24-120mm: smaller, lighter, easy to carry), leave the backpack and still catch the bus. Which I did and so on downtown to the ATM on Broadway and then on to Old Oakland through Latham Square and the City Center to have an ice cream cone in the Asian Cultural Center rather than to BART over to San Francisco as planned.
Feel pretty good, a good day, but I obviously didn't want to take BART and walk to Grant Avenue. If I could have teleported directly I'd have gone, but somehow what is essentially a simple trip put me off as it's put me off so often now in the recent past. I can give lots of reasons, but ultimately I have no idea what it's about. The timidity of age? Could be. Then again, then again, then again.
Anyway, home now sitting in front of the fan, my usual web news sites having been read and I'm thinking about making eye contact with the guitar. No thought to go out again: not hungry, not looking to take a nap. A bath earlier this morning, so no baths for another, well, we won't go into that.
Evening. Hmm. Some Netflix, some television and a fair amount of time with the guitar. We'll see how the rest of the evening evolves. A Foyle's War at nine, the first chapter in a new season. I may watch, I may bail; I may just go to bed and not go to jail.