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Here In Oakland

Art & Life


December 27, 2013

All Of Them
Friday. As mentioned I was watching episodes of The Killing yesterday through the late afternoon and into the evening, quitting before finding out who done it at around ten-thirty, the Elementary episode on CBS last night a repeat and so no temptation to stay up late and screw up the morning. Which made sense. Good for me, sensible me, to bed a little late, but nothing to blow the next day out of the water.

But I couldn't sleep. Wide awake. And so I fired up the tablet and finished the episode I'd been watching. Still no resolution, still no idea who done it, although we've run through at least two suspects. Still, one more chapter to go to end the season, we're still wide awake, we'll watch it and see how it ends. Which kept me up until well after midnight. And discovering the chapter I was thinking was going to resolve the mystery was but the first chapter in a second season, many more evidently to follow before we find out. Are we ever going to find out?

Silly you.

You'd think. I still had trouble getting to sleep even that late, but up with the alarm feeling chipper to head off to breakfast and back still as sharp as a tack. Sharp as a seventy year old tack, we shouldn't exaggerate. Surely the need for sleep will come and naps will follow, right? Not getting to sleep until one? Two?

Anyway, spent a good hour trying to save yesterday's entry before posting. I never do quite save the little bastards, but believe me, whatever its condition, whatever its rambling, it's miles further along than when I started. An odd morning? I'd say so. You'd think. Somebody would think, even if I'm not thinking.

Later. More of the set in Seattle police detective program, again why, I'm not sure. An attempt to lie down for a while, see if a nap might be lurking down in there somewhere, but so far no signs of fog, no sleep needed. We'll stop saying odd, but it is odd.

The session at the document preparers shop was straightforward. I don't think I've signed my name that many times in the last year. What do we sign our names for anymore? The rent check, in my case the monthly guitar fee and, well, you get the idea. I suspect all this document preparation will be done on a smartphone in a few years, writing but a distant memory.

Home again finally feeling things slowing down. It's overcast outside, I don't think we came close to the high of sixty-seven degrees they were predicting on the news this morning. Tried another look at that Seattle detective series but stopped after about ten minutes. We'll leave that alone for the while. An hour, a day, a week? Can't tell.

Nothing in the way of pictures, one or two shots of home made posters taken mostly because I collect them and often think to take a photograph when I find one. Friday. At least there are one or two possible programs I might watch later on TV if the PBS people aren't still raising money.

Evening. Two programs on television: New Tricks, a BBC retired detectives thing, old farts tackling old cases, and Death in Paradise that I'd seen not long ago, but (of course) didn't remember the ending. So back at nine to the Netflix set in Seattle detective opus. Some twenty plus odd one hour episodes to solve one murder (all done in the rain), twenty plus hours of who in fact really done it. I must admit it looks like I'm going to watch all of them.

The photo up top was taken while crossing the street at the Grand Lake theater with a Nikon D4 mounted with a 24-120mm f/4.0 VR Nikkor lens