Just back from a walk downtown.  Stared at the river for a bit.  Stopped in at Last Exit Books.  Thought about browsing acoustic guitars at Woodsy's.  Decided I couldn't afford the temptation.  Got a slice of cheese pizza from Guy's.  Ate it on a bench at the corner of South Water and Erie.  Walked home, writing this poem along the way:

I’m a fossil.

We all are.

One’s a record

of one’s experience,

but more than

just experience’s sum.

Not nothing, but

next to it.

Not some thing,

but something else.

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Had another guitar lesson last night.  It was intense.  The hour passed in a flash.  I was tired, though, at the end of it.  Later, at home, practiced so not to forget.  Barb said I sounded good as I returned the instrument to its case.  I replied that I was really frustrated.  And I was because I just couldn't remember aspects of the 4 part exercise Jim had taught me.  I think some of it came back this morning, but I'm confused.  Getting my regular old memory and my muscle memory in synch is gonna be some kind of experience.  Don't know how much time I have to figure it out.  My guitar goal is to learn to play one blues song to my own satisfaction sometime before I die.  After I die, maybe I'll take up the piano.

*