Errata 2 And Coronation

Happily, I have got through the worst of withdrawal and am bothered  only by occasional panic, attempts to remove my trousers over my head and a sort of fizzing sound between my ears. I believe the fizz is because my serotonin has got carbonated --like kings and queens undergo carbonation and afterward wear crowns. However, I can still think, so how important can brain chemicals really be? Hah?

Last night I decided it would be an excellent time to service our lawn mower, then got into the '71 VW Bus and disassembled its headlight and turn-signal relays which were full of brackish water from our last rain. I used watchmaker's tools, a blow-dryer, tiny scraps of emery cloth and WD-40. It worked! I was done by 3 a.m.

I just fixed the hell out of everything last night and everything worked this morning but I am well now and will not indulge in such foolishness again. My solace from this ostentation of modesty and industry is directed toward calmer joys. One of my favorite, calmest, joys is a good hotel and a good visit. So let's draw a curtain over the poor specimen above and look at some heretofore unposted recent photos:

This, I recognize as our room at Hotel Monaco in San Francisco on a very special evening last month. I was meditating and sampling the contents of a delightful cupboard at lower left. A surprisingly good sauvignon blanc occupied my attention for some time. Norma, however, was feeling enclosed --"bunchy" she calls it-- and wandered off to take Normaphotos of Normaphotos and so on until she had exhausted the possibilities of a quite attractive mirror frame.

After which, she returned to finish the glass of wine I had poured for her and thereupon retired. I stayed up a bit longer to plan our next day of business --besides, I retired nearly 6 years ago and needn't rush into it every night like it was something I forgot to do.

The phone call went like this: "Hello?"

"Hi, it's Mom."

"I hear static. Are you far away?"

"That's not static. That's the Pacific. If we were farther away we'd get wet."

I interject: "Tell him to put his shoes on and walk 2 blocks west."

"Ohmigosh! Be right there."

There was a five-minute wait, during which Normaphotoed The Ascent Of Man , followed by a lanky figure galumphing over the dunes to hug us and say, "It's so nice to run to the seashore and find my parents on it!"

Sometimes one must take one's thoughts --if not whole self-- to the continent edge to get one's bearings and I have done this, recently enough to regain mastery of myself. Coronation --or is it carbonation?-- is important and I have reclaimed my crown. The world is mine. Where ever shall I put it?