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Here In Oakland

Art & Life

Today at the pump


Under here.

August 31, 2010

Nasty Business
Tuesday. A good morning, I think, the sky overcast, but nothing strange about that, breakfast at the usual place getting up at six with the alarm, to bed last night at a decent hour. A haircut later this morning, my barber heading for her home in England on vacation tomorrow for six weeks. No haircut then for six weeks. Not a disaster. The hair has been growing unimpeded now for, what, four months? Something like that. I'm not sure I like it one morning, think it's OK the next, not sure how it will turn out. I'm not sure at my age you want to be perceived as a mad man with wild hair walking down the street (camera in hand), but then again, what's the harm? Maybe I'm doomed to find out.

I've been on this antibiotic now for three weeks, been taking these various inhaler drugs now for a while, are they showing any effect? The sinuses? I think I see progress (and any progress is to the good), but not enough that it couldn't be me projecting, finding benefits where none exist. Still, we'll see. Still a while to go yet. The lungs? They seem better. One of the inhalers invariably kicks them up for about a minute after absorbing whatever's in it, but otherwise they seem quiescent. Was it my poor cat who kicked it off? I hope not, but I guess I'll have to wait. I've had urges to visit a local pound, see what they may have in the way of kittens or more likely an older cat or.... Or. Slow down, my bucko, cool your jets.

And the ocular migraines? They were acting up last week, but I've not experienced one in any form for the last four days. I guess I could go back and see when I experienced one last, but what I do know is the weekend and now the first days of this week have been good. Talk about up and down, focusing on the hour, no thoughts of tomorrow's or yesterday's antics. How do you feel this morning? This afternoon? This evening? Is that the tendency, to get swallowed up in the hour, each and every hour, the new one comes along and the old one immediately disappears, forgotten in the instant? Who knows? I don't. Obviously. Interesting to watch. And write about. I guess.

This gibberish is your idea of “clear headed”?

Amazing, isn't it?

Later. I don't think I can tell any difference after getting the haircut. Balance it a bit, let it grow were my instructions. We'll see. The fashion today is good corporate short hair, head shaved bald seems to be popular, a nice tight focused ready to roll look. Which is fine, I've sported it most of my life, it's just we're trying some things that are different and to do that you need to stub your toe now and again to find your limits. Life, as in photography and hair? Hair as in life and photography? Should I be worried? Sit down and think about it for a bit?

You're cracked, but your mood is good. Mood is good will get you through times of cracked, better than cracked will get you through times of mood is bad. To paraphrase Fat Freddie.

Later still. We'll use the phrase “pulling teeth” again, getting me out of the apartment to take a bus downtown to have some lunch and walk about was like “pulling teeth”. But I did get out the door, had a Florentine crépe (sliced apples, chicken, Gorgonzola cheese and a side salad) in the City Center and then ambled back to the apartment. Stress on ambled. No heroics. No speed walking. Just, you know, cruising along taking an occasional picture I've undoubtedly taken a thousand times before. I'd make a joke about losing your memory being good in some sense for a photographer, but the condition is too scary and I don't want to go anywhere near it.

Stuck my head in to say hello to Mr. R at Somar's as I was passing, Mr. R getting the bar ready to open at four, he pointing to various places up and down Telegraph nearby where other bars, restaurants and such were in the process of opening. He's right by the Fox theater and, I suspect, is doing well now and preparing to do even better. Good. Nice to see friends succeed.

An email from AT&T saying my iPhone shipped today. They'd said seven to ten business days yesterday and I said I was OK with that, but evidently it's arriving day after tomorrow. My, my. I'm due to be in the city for lunch with some of the usual suspects Thursday when it's due to arrive and I'll probably miss the delivery, but I'm closer than I imagined to joining the faceless crowds staring into their smart phones and poking them with their fingers as they're walking. Well, staring into my iPhone. Phone calls, yes. I make as many as three or four in a month, receive as many if you don't count the one or two calls I get from people and machines trying to sell me something. And that bus app telling me when and where I missed my bus? Well, whoop! Whoop!

A couple of pictures taken on Lakeshore yesterday on the way to the AT&T shop, this flier in the window of an empty store front located beside the Meg Whitman for Governor headquarters. They've evidently had problems with people taping scurrilous signs and fliers on their windows, a video surveillance system added to survey the sidewalk in an attempt, I'm assuming, to put a stop to the problem. Not much they can do about this particular flier, though. Not very clever, a bit harsh, grating, but expressing the local commonly held attitude toward Ms. Whitman and the positions she took and the millions she's spent to gain her party's nomination. Nasty business, politics.

The photograph was taken at the Sistahs Steppin’ in Pride Parade with a Nikon D3s mounted with a 70 - 200mm f 2.8 Nikkor VR II lens.