Call It A Wash
Saturday. Up with the alarm after a decent night's sleep. Seemed to be, anyway, from what I can remember. Off to breakfast and back to hurriedly futz with yesterday's entry before heading over to the Saint Patrick's Day Parade, gambling I'd be warm without being too warm in a sweater and a light jacket.
And yes, I went through my familiar routine: did I want to go? Did I really want to go? I've never really had all that much luck shooting this parade, would it be such a loss if I indeed were to pass?
Anyway, a bus downtown taking the standard two cameras, one in the backpack, one over the shoulder, a train then to the Montgomery Street Station, getting off at 2nd where the parade was forming. I'd left at nine, thinking, if it started at eleven, it would give me about an hour and a half's shooting, cutting it close, but less chance of having it wear me too far down if I started to get tired.
Turned out the parade didn't start until noon, two and a half instead of one an a half hours of shooting, but still, no more than a minor muscle or two suggesting they were ready any time I was to stop.
Again, for whatever reason, I found it hard to find photographs, more because I wasn't sharp enough than anything inherent in the parade. Once the parade was well under way I took BART back to Oakland, a train arriving just as I was descending on the San Francisco escalator, a bus arriving just as I was emerging right at the stop from the Oakland escalator. Not worth mentioning unless you recall all the times you've missed a train or a bus by a minute and then waited. And waited. So you do remember and say thanks.
Later. A quick look at the photographs. Nothing great, most of them just marginally good. I was worried about that, but we have enough for a section or two on artandlife. Let them sit and stew for a bit while we head over to the morning café and take care of lunch.
The sweater with the light jacket worked well in San Francisco, but the fog had now burned off and so out the door in but a long sleeved shirt, the temperature pushing seventy. A bus came by as I was leaving (yes, I'd checked the time, knew the schedule so not so surprising, we'd already had enough exercise), so a bus to the café for a patty melt and a lemonade out on their patio, a walk then back to the apartment. A bit tired, but not all that tired, a good day without any of the usual symptoms, a gift I could easily learn to live with.
Evening. The rest of the afternoon spent working on the artandlife sections, two sections of photographs, still haven't decided if they're any good. Takes time. Not a lot, but you have to mull over your impressions and, even then, impressions change (as we like to say here in photo-ville) because the eye becomes more discerning over time. But then we say a lot of stuff.
The set in Venice, done in German, police procedural at six is a repeat of one from last week. Or from last month. So I didn't watch. Checked a Korean thing for a while before switching to House. Easy to listen to House at the computer working on the photographs, something you can't do when you need to be in front of the screen to read the subtitles.
And the photographs?
Still not sure how I feel about them. One or two I like, the two up top, for example, although the top picture is a no miss “cute dog” no brainer, nice, but not a candid portrait of the kind I'm after. The young woman behind the title is closer, although there's a good argument it's more an attractive (very) young lady photo than one catching an introspective moment. But again, time will tell when you're able to hear.
House until ten, but no need to get up early and so set the alarm. We'll call it a wash.