Blown lunch date today. I won't be sure until I get back and check my e-mail whether I waited for 45 minutes outside the wrong BART entrance (5th and Market) or if Michael (accidentally, I presume) stood me up. It's possible that I misremembered the rendezvous. It's my old MUNI stop, where I used to get off the N-Judah to do my job as a flunky in an architecture firm. Maybe I fixated on that entrance when Michael actually had proposed another. Instead of heading right back under the bay to downtown Oakland, I killed some time in my seamy old stomping grounds, vaguely depressed when I started and still disaffected now that I am on BART under water as I write.

Somehow this experience reminds me of an unsettling feeling of time wasted, slipping away, frittered or consciously squandered. What won't I get done today? That seems to be the theme. How far (downwards) must I readjust my expectations of myself once again? It sound harsh but that's how the feeling goes.