I took this picture with my iPhone. I don't know, I just love random shit. It makes life more interesting sometimes, though I like what James Salter said about old money--that it had been cleansed of random behavior. That is not exactly what he said, but it was of that essence. I used to be more random in my comportment than I am now. I still say shocking things, but I like old money and the associated conduct. I like the manners and the glide. Yes. . . they glide like a big old Cadillac across rough terrain. Sure, they don't turn so quickly, but they sure are comfortable. The guy in this picture is definitely not old money. He's the jibber-jabber of the hoi-poloi. It's O.K. I like going there. I just want to come home to soft music and quiet lawns and the serenity of those who don't need the circus.
After a day back at the factory, I was bushed. I skipped doing any sort of exercise and headed to the "health food" store to buy needed concoctions, then to the grocery store for fixin's. Dinner ready by six-thirty, me asleep on the couch by eight-thirty. It is awful and pathetic, but I go down with the sun. I woke at nine and prepared for bed knowing I would wake in the middle of the night. I thought of my father coming home after a full day's work, going to the lounger in front of the t.v. after dinner and falling asleep. It was o.k. with me because I got to watch whichever of the three channels we got back then that I wanted. It wasn't so bad.
I may go out tonight and take photos of the Christmas decorations on and off the Boulevard. That is what I am thinking now. I have to do something to stay awake after dark. Falling asleep alone in the house before ten can't be a healthy good thing. No, I need to make myself go.
The sun is up, the day is moving forward. And so must I.
Not quite Robert Frost, but you know what I mean.
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