The only thing that looks interesting in the Chronicle weekend events section is the Alameda County Fair tomorrow in Pleasanton. I'm not sure that I've been to Pleasanton. Pleasant-town. I wonder what swimmingly wonderful twentieth century decade they named it in. Pleasant-town, Pleasant-ville, Pleasant-as-punch-city. Oakland has a 4th of July celebration going on in Jack London Square on the 4th, which is located a couple of miles down the street from my apartment and that might draw me out with a tripod to photograph the fireworks. Whoop! As a callow youth I was big on personal explosives, legally purchased firecrackers as a kid when I lived north of Seattle, bigger and badder and very illegal fireworks as a teenager in Yonkers, and fireworks of various weights and calibers in the army. From college age until last year I kept a tub or two of them in the closet when I finally said fuck it and gave them to the two guys who moved me into this place. Society has moved in too close and I'm getting too old to be shooting them off the back porch with one eye out for the police and one eye out for the neighbors. Ce le guerre. Time passes.

 
The photographs were taken Sunday at the San Francisco Gay Pride Parade. The quote under The Sole Proprietor title is by Oscar Wilde.