The Visible Woman...August 16, 2003

It's Saturday. I can really do what I want. I want to pick up some tickets to a film fest. I want to work out. We've made a vague promise to stop by the Four Seasons bar tonight.

Forrest reads the sports page and decides to go see the Longhorn football team practice. He can really do what he pleases with his day, too.

I appreciate that other people are ill, seeing others through illness, working, worrying, committed, choking on life's duties. Last year at this time I was with my mother every moment I could be. She would be gone in less than two weeks. I was working, I was worried about her and my dad. I was drowning in life's duties. I couldn't even imagine feeling this free.

I really spend my day as I please. I workout. After my shower I'm about to take a book and a notebook out to a coffee shop somewhere and, after I pick up my tickets to the upcoming film festival, I'm thinking I'll sit and eat somewhere and write and read. But FFP comes home so I switch to taking him going along. We get the tickets and then I read the paper in New World Deli while enjoying a salad and gazpacho.

At home, I sort some pictures and souvenirs from a trip of mine, I read. Dad comes over to get me to witness something and we have a little talk about plans for trips, our plan to do water aerobics next week, to take his friends out to dinner tomorrow. As he says from time to time: "It's a good life if you don't weaken."

I drift through the cleaning of my office that is really "moving stuff around." FFP embarks on a big sorting through of his clothes and 'discovers' several nice pairs of slacks and some nice shirts. I go in there and sort through some drawers and end up tossing some stuff. We have two garbage bags full of clothes that he takes to the thrift store and we throw a pile of T-Shirts into the 'rag bag.' I read. I think. I consider writing.

Yes, it's a good life. We are going to go out in the evening to sit in a favorite bar with friends, have a little food and drink, listen to music.

I know that millions of people were without electricity, that people in Baghdad have struggled without proper infrastructure for months, that people are dying everywhere. I don't have a shred of schadenfreude about this. I don't wish anyone ill. In fact, the pain of the rest of the world makes me feel a little guilty that my day was so pleasant and so much my own.

Saturday, August 16, 2003

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

Mom and Dad in Dublin, 1997	as you like it How few people really have so much freedom! It's Saturday. I can really do what I want. I want to pick up some tickets to a film fest. I want to work out. We've made a vague promise to stop by the Four Seasons bar tonight. Forrest reads the sports page and decides to go see the Longhorn football team practice. He can really do what he pleases with his day, too. I appreciate that other people are ill, seeing others through illness, working, worrying, committed, choking on life's duties. Last year at this time I was with my mother every moment I could be. She would be gone in less than two weeks. I was working, I was worried about her and my dad. I was drowning in life's duties. I couldn't even imagine feeling this free. I really spend my day as I please. I workout. After my shower I'm about to take a book and a notebook out to a coffee shop somewhere and, after I pick up my tickets to the upcoming film festival, I'm thinking I'll sit and eat somewhere and write and read. But FFP comes home so I switch to taking him going along. We get the tickets and then I read the paper in New World Deli while enjoying a salad and gazpacho. At home, I sort some pictures and souvenirs from a trip of mine, I read. Dad comes over to get me to witness something and we have a little talk about plans for trips, our plan to do water aerobics next week, to take his friends out to dinner tomorrow. As he says from time to time: "It's a good life if you don't weaken." I drift through the cleaning of my office that is really "moving stuff around." FFP embarks on a big sorting through of his clothes and 'discovers' several nice pairs of slacks and some nice shirts. I go in there and sort through some drawers and end up tossing some stuff. We have two garbage bags full of clothes that he takes to the thrift store and we throw a pile of T-Shirts into the 'rag bag.' I read. I think. I consider writing. Yes, it's a good life. We are going to go out in the evening to sit in a favorite bar with friends, have a little food and drink, listen to music. I know that millions of people were without electricity, that people in Baghdad have struggled without proper infrastructure for months, that people are dying everywhere. I don't have a shred of schadenfreude about this. I don't wish anyone ill. In fact, the pain of the rest of the world makes me feel a little guilty that my day was so pleasant and so much my own.
JUST TYPING Remarkable freedom. A big responsibility. A joy in small doses. Amazing in long draughts. But heady, too. Drunk on freedom.
		Food Diary. *About 11am* a ripe banana, a piece of provolone, a few potato chips *About 12pm* *[New World Deli]* a greek salad with tomatoes and feta cheese and olives and feta dressing and a cup of gazpacho a small bite of heavy bread *About 6:30pm* *[Westwood]* some small slices of baguette and a little butter; small Caesar salad; good-sized portion of cedar Plant Salmon with a little rice and a few asparagus spears and carrots 1/2 bottle white wine About 8pm [Jeffrey's] vodka gimlet 1/2 of a paté plate with these delicious little griddle cake things 1/2 of a two cheese plate with more delicious little toasted things [these apps weren't huge portions but tasty!] About 8:30pm [Four Seasons] diet coke, water, a couple of sugared pecans
		Time flies.... Trying to organize the stuff in my office can end up being a major time-eater. But when it's done, well, you know...I'm going to write! And I'll have all my research materials organized, too. Going out is fun but our night on the town consumed hours. Except for reading while we ate and while we waited for the festivities at Four Seasons...we didn't 'accomplish' anything but socialization. Being out with people is fun and educational, though, right?

		Reading. From the Journals of M.F.K. Fisher. I realize that the depression wasn't quite as depressing for everyone. It always amazes me to read about people who grew up in families with more means and lots of books. I read the papers. The New York Times had a Blackout Section today.
		I read some old journals...a surefire way to make sure that I don't write anything...who is that simpering fool?
		Exercise Twenty minutes on bike. Upper body (chest, back, shoulders) exercises. Twenty-five minutes on bike.
		Felt great this morning. No problems of any kind. Can't remember the last time I really felt sick. 102/65 80