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A Better Reason Altogether Friday, my son, is written up in The Book Of Good Stuff in the first chapter right after sex and baseball. (And, I must admit, in some esoteric cultures, just after New York pizza and politics.) With no reason to get up early Saturday morning you can have a drink after work with friends, go to a movie that starts later than 6:00 or sip a Scotch Whiskey with water while you scratch your head and wonder what it was you did today that anyone wants to know about. My sister arrived in San Jose last night and swam in two events today at the Santa Clara International Swim Center. I'll go down tomorrow to say hello and watch. I assume I can just walk up to the door and buy a ticket. This isn't Star Wars, after all, and swimming meets aren't even mentioned in The Book Of Good Stuff until well after the last Appendix.
Friday evening just became Saturday morning. Up at 5:30, take a
bath, go grocery shopping at Lucky Stores at 6:30 (two people shopping,
The Bay to Breakers race is running tomorrow. If I get up at 5:00, I can be there at 7:00 to shoot pictures. They've been running this race since I can remember and tens of thousands of people participate. People wear costumes, promote schemes, tout charities, drink Vodka and Cranberry juice cocktails. So I'm going to attend with my cameras unless I fail to awaken at 5:30 in the morning, in which case I will celebrate over breakfast for a better reason altogether. |
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everyone else stocking shelves), buy the newspapers at 7-11 on the way to
breakfast at the usual place in Berkeley. I need to try another routine.
A routine that doesn't start at 5:00 in the morning. The one
other shopper checking out in front of me was a guy in his late twenties,
two or three day growth of beard buying a quart of vodka and some Cranberry
juice in a big bottle. Gave me the hit of a guy on a party jag that started
sometime last September with a girl friend waiting back at the apartment, both
of them pacing themselves for the next Millenium. I didn't get a hit
of riding down to death and destruction, but a hit of young and what the
fuck. I remember young and what the fuck, although I don't remember
buying Vodka in a grocery store at six in the morning. Could have been
that I grew up in the State of Washington. You can't buy Vodka in a grocery
store in the State of Washington. It's against the law. One of the reasons
we partied in this Millenium.