Friday. To bed again early enough, to sleep after ten, up with the alarm and off to breakfast at the usual time, being sure to have the plain waffle with fruit with sliced strawberries on top (they were out of bananas) to see if that didn't eliminate the dry mouth and such when I got home. Which it seems to have done.

Are you going to remember to repeat this again tomorrow?

Who knows about me anymore? Certainly not I.

Later. Another slow tired morning started with lots of lying down and listening to the radio, broken by a short walk over to the construction site to take the usual pictures. It's now one in the afternoon, the head having come back together and all is unexpectedly well. Overly warm out there, but now clear headed, awake and feeling fine. Go figure. I certainly can't.

There's another annual APL reunion get together for drinks going on at at restaurant at five-thirty in the old building and all through this morning I've been thinking of flaking out, but now that the world is back in focus I'm thinking I very well might. There's also a Ferguson support demonstration-march forming up two short blocks away at six that might be interesting to photograph, so you can see I really do feel better now that the morning has passed. Go figure. I certainly can't.

You're happy enough to be feeling this way, though, right?

Oh, indeed. We certainly are.

Later still. Still clear headed, still feel just fine, even picked up the guitar and ran through the last series of lessons. Strange. And nice.

Evening. And so a bus downtown to go by the APL reunion, the buses off schedule and half of them not tracking on the smartphone app, but having good luck in right away finding one heading down and then on the way back.

It was scheduled to start at 5:30 and I, of course, arrived maybe ten minutes after that. I'm always too early, almost always arriving at the specified hour. Anyway, a look at the people who were gathered in the restaurant, maybe a dozen had indeed arrived, but no one I particularly wanted to see, so back outside to have a cup of coffee (small, half water, drank about a third before dumping it so we can get to sleep this night) out at a table in front of Peet's. Where we took the picture up above.

The demonstration march announced for six was located just a hundred yards down Broadway on 14th, but all the police cars and crowd in the picture at 12th had to do with a couple shouting at one another on the corner and attracting a crowd. Nothing to do with the march, but not the sort of thing you want to pull, you'd think, with all these police hanging around.

Another look into the restaurant to see who'd arrived, didn't yet see anyone I wanted to see and so a walk over to 14th to check if a crowd was forming for a march. Plenty of local security people and police had arrived, but nothing in the way of a crowd. Of course there was a helicopter overhead. Around here there's almost always a helicopter overhead. Another look into the restaurant before deciding to catch a bus at the stop across the street and go home. Been six years since we all worked together at APL. A long time now, another era, another time. Home by seven.

So we really have become a hermit?

Who knows? Probably so. Still, a good afternoon and evening, the head still clear, the energy good, even if I did flake out and not wait for more people to arrive at the reunion. Didn't really want to take pictures, which, given my history, they would have wanted. It would have been nice to say hello to the people I was looking forward to seeing who'd said they were going, but such is life. My life. Go figure. I certainly can't.