Friday Morning Again

Quarter of six.

If I slept at all, it was just a shallow slumber and not very restful. Throughout, I kept hearing music by Prokofiev, like just now with Love for Three Oranges. A strange thought comes to me, the question of human instincts versus society’s expectations and industrialization. Also consumerism. “We’ve taken care of everything / The books you read, the songs you sing / The pictures that give pleasure to your eye.”

Quarter of seven. I made an early trip to the store to get Aesop’s Dog Chow and the usual stuff for me because of my lab appointment at ten o’clock. Kat’s family from inside their Dodge Caravan smiled and waved hello as we passed each other on the street. It seemed like everybody was waving at me from their car: was I seeing things? Michelle was quite gabby this morning, but for my part I feel rather tired and washed out due to poor sleep. She wished me luck with my labs today… Tomorrow would be my mother’s birthday if she were still here. But actually, it’s her birthday anyway. July 17, 1928 was when she was born. Off and on I’ll probably stop and think about her tomorrow… The band agreed to have practice Saturday at three o’clock. I’d like to take my blue Fender bass for the comfort of it. Looking forward to getting the Di Marzio pickup in the mail likely in August; but then I have to find someone to install it.

Eight thirty. The taxi will come get me after nine o’clock. Like an idiot, I drank my Snapple when I was supposed to fast for the blood draw; I totally forgot about that. It’s too late to cancel it now. Is this an example of a Freudian slip, meaning that I don’t really want to go to my appointment? I think it was just an accident. Freud claimed that there are no accidents in human behavior; we do everything intentionally. When bad things happen to us, it’s because we’re being masochistic, etc etc. I don’t believe this is very probable… The sun rises on the promise of a nice day. I ought to email Heidi today and see what’s up in her world. Someday it would be great to get together again for a bubble tea at Cal’s Donuts; celebrate old times and make a toast to the future.

Quarter of ten. I’m waiting outside of the clinic for my return ride. The phlebotomist was not very friendly, but it’s over with. Maybe that’s why I tried to sabotage this appointment, and Freud would be correct about my motives. 


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