|Hard To Wash, Though|
I looked at about 50 works of pottery, and the winner is to the left, I would just hate to have to wash it.
Last night, the temperature drove me away from my spot, by 9 pm. It was probably around freezing.
I had been joined briefly by a guy who plays trumpet but; he seemed to become discouraged, either by the fact that I was tuning up to his horn and taking my time doing it, or by the fact that nobody was walking by at the time.
The reason I was tuning so meticulously was that there was nobody walking by.
I went to my sleeping spot and ate two cans of soup and a sleeve of Saltine crackers, and went to sleep.
I woke up at one point and gulped down some V8 juice. I had only had a half pint of vodka the previous evening, and I had shared some of that with Alan From Las Vegas. The beer that the guy who plays trumpet gave me was still in my bag this morning, untouched.
Alan appeared to be offended when I walked off, after telling him that I had things to do. I pretty much had anticipated him being like that, which made me feel pressured to hang out, and so I left, because I don't like feeling pressured.
And that is all that matters on this Saturday, January 22nd, at 2pm.
Since I haven't really given you much, I will make up for it by including one more picture.