The Visible Woman...August 1, 2003

Anniversaries of things (including birthdays) are just an opportunity to remember. Really rather arbitrary, right?

When the calendar rolls around again, why is that an opportunity for remembering? I guess we just need a time to do it.

This is the month for it. August 1, 1966. Forrest escapes a mass murder. My birthday is in August. (I usually celebrate a whole month, especially for ones that end in zero of five. What's up with that? Something about this one makes me realize that, one day, I'm going to be sixty, probably, with luck. That's scary.) Several good and great friends have August birthdays, too. Mine is the same day as a good friend's, although she is one year younger. Her mom was one year younger, exactly, than mine, they were born on the same day, too. Both are gone. Mom left us last year on August 28, her sister's birthday. And on and on. It isn't fraught with significance in a real sense these calendar references. But still we remember things this way. 9/11. Enough said.

Tonight at dinner a friend mentioned that tomorrow was the tenth anniversary of his mother's death. Yep, we do remember things this way. Set aside a block on the calendar to do it.

Friday, August 1, 2003

A Journal from Austin, Texas. A Project of LBFFP Stealth Publishing.
food	reading	writing	time	exercise	health and mood

. himself, August 2, 1966, the first day after the day he came so close	remembering dates Anniversaries of things (including birthdays) are just an opportunity to remember. Really rather arbitrary, right? When the calendar rolls around again, why is that an opportunity for remembering? I guess we just need a time to do it. This is the month for it. August 1, 1966. Forrest escapes a mass murder. My birthday is in August. (I usually celebrate a whole month, especially for ones that end in zero of five. What's up with that? Something about this one makes me realize that, one day, I'm going to be sixty, probably, with luck. That's scary.) Several good and great friends have August birthdays, too. Mine is the same day as a good friend's, although she is one year younger. Her mom was one year younger, exactly, than mine, they were born on the same day, too. Both are gone. Mom left us last year on August 28, her sister's birthday. And on and on. It isn't fraught with significance in a real sense these calendar references. But still we remember things this way. 9/11. Enough said. Tonight at dinner a friend mentioned that tomorrow was the tenth anniversary of his mother's death. Yep, we do remember things this way. Set aside a block on the calendar to do it.
JUST TYPING Dates Today is a place on man's calendar. That repeats. After a fashion. Or not at all.
		Food Diary. Large black coffee from the Capresso. Small black coffee from Capresso. Mixed green salad with walnuts, bleu cheese. Smoked salmon and greens pizza. (NXNW Brew Pub.) Black coffee. ...below from Zoot.... Champagne. Burgundy. A chilled cumcumber dill soup. Ridge Geyserville Zin. Sweetbreads. A shared cheese plate with not all that much cheese.
		Time flies.... I'm once again groggy in the morning and hot almost from an exhausting dream. But I perk up. Not that my time doesn't disappear down a rabbit hole. Eating meals out will do that. Especially dining. It takes time to go to the club and get through my program and get home and shower. Laundry sucks time as do trips to the bank and to pick up tickets.

		Reading. The Fearless Diner by Richard Sterling. The guy is a bit chauvinistic (but isn't the world?). He lists a ton of possible reads in the back including books on famine and starvation and dumpster diving (Austin's own Lars Eighner's Travels with Lizbeth.) It isn't a bad book to keep at ready for reference. Now what to read next???
		I have my excuses.
		Exercise Sixteen minutes on the bike to nowhere. Lower body and arm exercises. Twenty minutes biking to nowhere.
		Physically feel good after waking up. Mood is pretty good, too. Every time I step outside the heat takes my breath away. Texas is like that.