I took a walk through downtown the other day. It would be the last solitary moments of the day.
Most days I have many solitary moments. That's the way it goes in this life of mine. I'm used to it. It may also be true that that's the way it has to be for what I do.
As if to serve as counterweight for my chronic solitude, I've always loved peaks of relatively intense socializing.
This day I was off to meet my son for a beer. We had an hour before he'd drive me to Bushwakker where I'd set up a rendezvous with the writers for 5:00. He was off to a show. We'd meet again in a few hours.
I don't want to tell about the rest. It was all great fun but I drank too much beer and did not eat. My friends had to look after me. When I did meet Tom later, he didn't stay and I didn't remember it.
"It's all good," as one angel/friend told me a day later. And as I indicated above, I accept the rhythm of peak experiences and the depths they imply. But man, I've been feeling ashamed. And grateful for my loved ones.