I wore this baseball cap today. Old torn thing I’ve had for years. The only one I own. Got to work and continued working on an iPad game that’s been out for months. They’re releasing a new update. Kept on it for a while and started feeling a soreness in my head. The early stages of a headache. I tapped on and listened to music. The Scorpions, Mötley Crüe.

“Keep on keeping on,” I said to no one in particular.

Hats for the sake of hats have not been my style for a long time. They need a purpose. Hiking in the cold, going on a long walk a ways up a mountain. Activities like that. I wasn’t going to play baseball, but I woke up late and my hair’s as thick as crab grass. Takes some taming I wasn’t in a mood for. I also missed my train, which means I missed my reading time. I finally started in on The Talented Mr. Ripley. I haven’t read a book in a while. Not a whole one. Can’t really say if I’ll finish this one any time soon, but I’m hopeful.

It’s been quiet at work on account of the time of year. Big events in the games industry. Lots of folks are out for one event or another. Giving talks, listening on with their colleagues. Something for most everyone. I’ve been in this for going on ten years and it’s a wonder the way things change. Would I still be in video games when I’m forty? What sorts of new ways to create games will there be in 2023? Kind of boggles to try and think that far ahead. It was thirty years ago that the market for this stuff just crashed out under everyone. Just as I was born, in fact. The whole thing plummtted. Lots of folks lost their jobs. They blamed greed. Lust and hunger for money. The industry bounced back when Nintendo and their strict quality controls introduced new and more advanced software. Now developers want to wrestle the controls away from the publishers and console manufacturers. Things evolve, as they say. Keep up or get left behind.

The cap is beige. A brown-colored Mario patch adorns the front and the Nintendo logo along the strap in the back. I bought a handful of them to give to my brothers and friends.

When you’re as rudderless as I am, plans are of little interest. Those too far away plans. Saving for rainy days that are sure to come but are as difficult to imagine as two seasons ahead. Surely there will be an autumn, but that is not now. Now is spring. Autumn will be accomodated when it arrives. Recently, disturbingly, I dwelt on the thought of inheritence. The certainty of material security upon the death of my elders. A sickening reliance on someone else’s hard work. The legacy ending with an old man and his brothers selling off all assets and living the remainder of their lives.

I don’t especially know what to do about headaches. I have only one cabinet that contains anything but shelving. My wines and spirits, tumblers, glasses, and bottle openers. Not even teas. I considered stopping for some on the way home, but I did not. I Did Not, perhaps.

“Victor,” said my neighbor, in Spanish, because I never introduce myself as Vic, “have this. Some cabbage and potatoes.” It was a strange moment, all the stranger when I explained that I don’t cook. I don’t even have anything in which to cook. He was puzzled for a moment, and I shrugged and added, “But, hey, if you ever have something cooked, I’ll take it.” He nodded and told me to have a good night, then. I was struck by the sincerest feeling of stupidity for what I said. Something cooked? Ass.

I removed the cap when I got home. Threw it on a big box of art I’ve collected over the years but have yet to frame or hang. When the headache worsened I took an orange and squeezed it into a tumbler, then an IPA left over from St. Partick’s Day. (An old joke that I’ve never shaken). Cooling, numbing after a few. The Mario cap was perhaps my dearest friend just then. I considered where I would wear it next. In summer, perhaps. Walking along a sun burnt ridge. The brown hills of California, from which you can see just about anywhere you’d like if you feel lost or scared about your general direction.