I Rather Like It
Wednesday. A bright sunny day, the temperature well up into the fifties, a high of sixty-one they're saying on the web, feeling better than I have in a while just after noon having futzed with a number of kitty cat pictures to be used by friends on their Christmas card. Why have I myself not done any Christmas cards? I've had (over the years) an idea or two, nothing too exotic, for pictures that would be fun, some of them involving a female model in a Santa cap (and not much else), some of them involving reindeer, African fetish masks and corn flakes, none of which have come to fruition. Such is life during the holidays, I guess. So many things to avoid, so many years to avoid them.
Another journal start without a start number four hundred and forty-five.
I'm not counting. Then again I'm sitting here in the apartment and need (because I say I need) to get out and about for a little exercise instead of sitting here and buying additional gimcracks online to make this new lens I purchased more portable, manageable, amenable and useable.
Later. Well, I got a call from Mr. H saying he was meeting with Mr. E at Harrington's at 4:30 for a couple of beverages, would I like to join them? Well, no, but I'd keep it in mind and, when I finally left the apartment later thinking I could use the fresh air and the exercise, a bus came by just as I was walking by a local bus stop so I got on board and headed over to San Francisco on BART because that's what tends to happen here in Oakland. An excellent few glasses of Guinness, I might add, I (wonderful I) managing to leave and head back to Oakland catching the last bus back to my apartment sitting here now with my head relatively clear thinking this worked out very well given past adventures when things haven't. Does that make sense? It does to me, but I'll leave it until tomorrow morning when I can look at this with a clearer head.
I took some few pictures at Harrington's as I've done in the past. You can do this if you're not overly rude and don't put the camera in anyone's face. The bar mistress (tendress?) didn't much care, she understood that feeding people alcohol for a living can lead to off the wall behavior, and the folks who's picture I took either didn't particularly notice or care. Well, one or two, but you gain a feeling for these encounters or you stop having these encounters pretty quick, let me tell you.
What does that mean?
It means my BART shot was probably a cheap shot, although I rather like it.
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