Don't You Think?
Went by the blues concert given on Wednesday nights near the office. There was another photographer shooting medium format film. We didn't exchange glances, let alone words. I shot some pictures and retired to Pacific Coast Brewery, a haunt I know from earlier days. There were people there I knew. I joined them and had a Guinness. And then another. And then another still.
Returned home after eight. Mr. Wuss was waiting at the door, although I'd climbed the stairs
instead of taking the elevator. Had he been waiting by the door these last few hours or did he somehow know I'd arrived and was climbing the stairs? Hard to tell. They've done some studies with dogs that seem to indicate they know the instant their masters decide to return home no matter their location. Interesting series of experiments that most people would rather not think about. I'm ambivalent on the subject. Maybe they know, maybe they don't. Either way, Wuss was ready and waiting for dinner. He is lying across my lap at the moment, two or three refills of his dish into the evening. I am two or three sheets into the evening myself. Some things strike a balance. Cat and owner. Owner and human. Hard to tell.
Today I accomplished little, other than a good lunch at Tin's, ten of us for Dim Sum. What does that say about the day when lunch is the main attraction? In a civilized society, much. In a multi-tasking society, hard to say. You read other people's opinions on these things and you nod your head or you don't. What day is a good day anymore? How do you tell? Was it a good lunch? Yes, it was, but how to measure? The food? The company? The bill?
My guess is I'm going to get a good night's sleep this evening, drive into work tomorrow and shoot whoever is playing at the City Center concert late tomorrow afternoon. Have another drink. Keep it to one. Shoot more pictures. Home by six. Life is exciting, don't you think?
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