The Entire Business
Tunneling out of sleep, turning over the idea this was Monday and I had to go into the office, finally realizing it was Sunday, finally realizing my plan from the night before of having breakfast, parking downtown by the BART entrance and spending a couple of hours at work, then BARTing to Pleasanton and the Alameda Country fair, was crazy. I don't think I can handle two hours at the office on a Sunday anymore, why do I even think about it? Dream about it? Have climbing out of sleep nightmares about it?
Cause that's what people do, my man. Have nightmares on Sunday mornings when the work isn't going well. Shake it off. Think about the Pleasanton fair. You could use the photographs and the fresh air. You could use another subject.
OK, OK. No more office for a couple of paragraphs, no more religious screeds. We'll play guy and his camera for a while, the one where the guy meets the model from Petaluma and they live happily ever after crafting double page spreads for Victoria's Secret in velvet toned black and white up in the cabin in the woods with DSL and a view of the ocean.
So it's later and there's a load of laundry in the wash and I'm thinking Pleasanton isn't in the cards, even though I'm assured by someone who's been there in the last week that I can take BART to Pleasanton, take the special bus laid on for the County Fair and shoot to my heart's content. Since it's hot with a bright sun, the light won't really be right until late this afternoon and I don't want to get back here late on a Sunday for what reason I'm not sure, but I don't, so I won't. I'll go somewhere else, maybe over to Emeryville for lunch, take a camera (of course), maybe drive somewhere else just to get out of the house. Drive up to Napa? Maybe. We'll know with the next paragraph.
Early afternoon after a Caesar salad and a glass of lemonade downtown on the cool shaded patio of a delightful if deserted restaurant. I have been playing some Reality Asylum for the last hour, media terrorists ltd 1988/1990 and Rienz14, a collection put together by the mad Nederlander, his ode to an alien nation. Good thing the day is warm and sunny and the little birdies are singing, all three of them, cause without the warmth and fuzzies the weasels would be closing in. Do you understand now why some of us had to move to California?
Perhaps I am bored with Oakland, perhaps I am bored with myself, perhaps I am ready to do something irresponsible, something way off the edge like tripping downtown to get some of that outrageous barbeque from a well know establishment. Somehow this qualifies as way off the edge irresponsible now that I have reached an age of old guy enlightenment. Good thing I don't know where to score anymore. Where is this going? Other than California?
I can feel the pieces coming home to the roost, circling like crows ready to make a landing. If a three out of four day vacation can get me this far, the coming vacation may well do the entire business and I'm ready for the entire business.
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