Saturday. Yesterday evening played itself out working on photographs to put up at hereinoakland.com getting in little or no time on the guitar. The headphones arrived before I went down the hill for sushi and sake (probably a little more sake than wanted, but not over the line) and I plugged them into the amp. My, my. The sound was, well, not something I was expecting. Are the headphones OK? Plugged them into the CD player and they sounded fine. So we'll see. More experimenting is in order.

Up at seven thirty, the hell with the alarm. A bit thick headed. I really didn't drink all that much, although I got lost in conversation with the photographer couple and didn't pay the strictest attention to my consumption, although attention was paid. OK. Who knows? To breakfast and back, here now to see what's coming up on the list of weekend festivals and events. Something over in Union Square at eleven. Another starting today, but culminating tomorrow, also in San Francisco. Hup! Hup! Sake last night or not, a weekend has begun!

Later. I do have this “I'm feeling crappy, why would I want to go out” routine going, no doubt about it, and it came up when it was time to leave for San Francisco's Union Square this morning. Still, once out the door, camera in the backpack, camera in hand, it rolled right along, no crappy thoughts about turning back.

I don't get over to Union Square anymore, particularly on a summer weekend when the tourists and locals are both out in force. There are pictures there, but you have to work for them. Anyway, there we were, off the train, to the square, a picture or three, and that was about it.

A group was performing on interesting looking instruments, more complicated in their acquisition and mastery I would guess than, say, acquiring and then learning to play a guitar. But good. Old country stuff. The right thing for an ethnic festival, recollecting my own introduction to some of the weird shit we had at Icelandic gatherings.

Walking back I took a photograph of this sign for the hell of it wondering how the exposure would turn out when a fellow I hadn't noticed sitting farther on in the distance, bending forward with a paper cup in his hand, glaring, and then went off like a rocket as I walked by.

He was clearly way wired too tight, shouting at the top of his lungs - “why had I taken his photograph!!!” - as I walked opposite him on the sidewalk. That was it, nothing more than his shouting, but a reminder to stay alert when I'm shooting. And I'm always shooting. Some people want you to take their picture, some people want to make you eat your camera. With some it can be hard to know which one.

A BART train was pulling in as I descended the elevator, no waiting, a cup of coffee at Peet's in Oakland before checking the phone to see that a bus was arriving at the stop across the street in but one minute. I'd had the same luck going to San Francisco, no more than a minute's wait for the bus or the train, some days are like that. If I believed in fate I might have placed a bet on a horse if I knew how to place a bet on a horse.

Two o'clock so I stayed on the bus past my stop, got off at the ATM and then had a late lunch at the usual place, another bus pulling up as I finished. I'd done enough walking today, done enough walking yesterday, no need for more. There's another street festival in San Francisco tomorrow and I'd like to be in one piece when I get up.

Later still. An hour on the guitar, another in the works. I say that, but I'm not sure. To bed early after a hot bath is my guess, the day a success. I've talked about feeling better these last couple of weeks and it seems to be continuing. Not great, but better. Don't want to jinx it.