Some days you get on the freeway and it's backed up for miles, and you stop for a newspaper -- any newspaper -- and they're out, and both money machines at the bank are down sorry for the inconvenience, and a two-lane road that's never jammed in the direction you're going at this time of the day suddenly is, so you say, well, at least I can take a picture, and, after a third bout of slow vehicles,
the car dealership may or may not be able to provide a loaner car in a couple of weeks -- but at least the dry cleaning's finally turned out right -- and the six-month rental for the post box is due -- but another bank machine works such that the balances look right after a few days of relative weirdness -- and a favorite Mexican restaurant is suddenly too crowded to accomodate, so
it's time to head over the water towards increasing East Bay fog,
to a long-lost Indian spot -- getting one's goat (curry) literally, and far from figuratively, with serene bansuri and sitar music against a counterpoint of Debussy First Arabesque ringtones and 93,000,000 miles sun,
heading out in the light knifing through the low stratus,
to Diablo Valley College to record instrumental version of
Esther Xerxes: VII. "If anyone"
returning home to begin the orchestration of VIII. "What is it" -- thinking yes, some days are ever with us, regardless of time and place -- no complaints...
