Chin By Ten
Saturday. To bed again not at such a great hour, but what seems to have been a decent night's sleep. Maybe a nap in a while if the need arises to make up any deficit. There's a Laotian street festival in San Francisco I want to photograph later around noon and Mr. S's band in playing later in the city this evening so a trip is in order, meeting up with Mr. E at the Rockridge BART station after seven. We'll see how that goes with this old fart's aversion to complicated travel.
Complicated travel?
Complicated to contemplate, for some reason, the actual doing of the thing being avoided generally working out just fine. A little different attitude toward the world these last years, not sure why, although in my wider less than complete understanding of this growing older business, not surprising.
My, my.
Later. A bus and then BART to the U.N. Plaza in San Francisco, a nice little area with a fountain just north of the City Hall along Market. An hour plus shooting the Laos New Year Festival, remembering last year's festival and the less than half dozen (usable) pictures I managed to get out of it, working to see what I could see and do this year to come up with a full section for artandlife. A long hour plus of shooting, a train back to Oakland to sit out in the City Center with a crepe for lunch (chicken, Gorgonzola cheese, apple slices and such: practically healthful, given my usual fare) until the bus came along. Home by three.
A call from Mr. E where we decided to drive instead of BART and bus to the gig, meeting at the Rockridge BART station north of here, parking and then taking his car over the bridge. Nice car, one of those big Mercedes with massive horsepower, deep leather seats and all the various buttons one might imagine to adjust this and track that. A peek into another world. Still, a drive to San Francisco out to the Avenues to have a Guinness or two at a pub near the Abbey Tavern where Mr. S's band was playing to meet up with Mr. & Mrs. Y before heading over to take in the show.
Danger here, of course, all that Guinness on tap, all those reality altered people milling about and drinking it down, I among them, but getting out by about eleven and on the road after but three. Pretty good, I was thinking. Back to Oakland and the Rockridge BART, back home then after maybe another ten minute drive to check the pictures and head to bed. A long day, I'd say, as I often say when the covers haven't been pulled up to my chin by ten.
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