I spent quite a bit of time going over yesterday's entry. This really is becoming a habit. You might say spend more time editing during the day, but it doesn't seem to make them any better when viewed with a clear head in the morning.

So, saying that, you've decided not to spend time editing during the day when you're writing?

Well, no. The days become fuzzier as they progress. Fuzzy doesn't make for good edits. I'm sure it helps, maybe I'm just not remembering how bad it was reading the day before on the morning after. I'm a morning writer, but my clear headed mornings have shrunk down to about an hour, by ten the walls are vibrating and conversing in tongues. Those later morning walks are there for a reason.

Maybe a picture or two later at the farmer's market. I say that and then never push myself hard enough to follow though with a decent attempt. All those people, all that potential, and yet I talk and make no effort.

There's another dance being held tomorrow in front of the Lake Merritt white columns and I'll go over and photograph it. Some of the first set of pictures from last month turned out well and I'd like to experiment more with slow shutter speeds and blurred movement. This one tomorrow is described as a Salsa class, I don't think it's the same ecstatic dance group that held the dance I photographed in June, but dancing is dancing, slow shutter speeds are slow shutter speeds and you can get blurred pictures almost anywhere you want.

Later. A walk over by the white columns, the Capoeira group, just three of them this time, was practicing their routines. I'm impressed by their dedication, the moves look complex and yes, I had to look it up again on the web as I'd forgotten its origins. Brazil, big country, somewhere south of here I seem to recall.

One picture at the farmer's market to underline my earlier comment, something about the market slows me down and at the same time scoots me right along through the market and on to the café (for ice cream and a lemonade). Probably better if I developed a habit of buying multi-colored beans and leafy greens at the market and skipped café fare altogether. So say the PBS people I've been listening to in the afternoons.

Evening. A nap, a lot of guitar, some futzing around with the pictures and now it's eight in the evening. The Saturday night police procedural at six is the Beck series they've started repeating again and I've seen this evening's episode, so I've added more guitar. We're good so far with the guitar. To bed as early as I can I think, unless something more comes along on television. This Saturday evening.