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Here In Oakland

Art & Life


May 3, 2013

If I Can Find One
Friday. I'd forgotten about Elementary last night until it turned ten and (my, my) there it was and so there I was until eleven. Sherlock Holmes as a speed freak, story lines minimized to fit as many commercials as possible into an hour, the counterweight Dr. Watson being played by the interestingly cast Ms. Liu, whom I admit I'm enjoying. I know, the Decline and Fall of the Western World encapsulated into the classic detective series. Babble here in Babylon.

Up this morning, a little slower than usual after the alarm, off to breakfast and back on another going to be a record temperature day. The pandorea vine was busy overnight, sprouting more flower and adding more clusters, showing its approval of the current weather.

Yesterday my web sites went down for six hours and getting through to my service provider proved frustrating. Two calls to be held on hold, the first for five minutes and the second for ten (before giving up), finally a call in the early evening getting through to tech support who told me by email account had been hacked and they'd shut down the sites. I needed to change my password as “someone” out there had slipped in with a stolen password and was spewing email out promoting profitable Nigerian financial adventures.

OK. They might have called me ahead of just shutting everything down. I was thinking the server had failed and all my fellow clients were tying up the phones trying to get through. At least the password was an old one, not used for any of the more important accounts and the fix took but a minute.

Later. I do live in a bubble of sorts, the guitar lesson putting in relief some of its aspects. Played through the finger picking exercises realizing I'd too early gotten into the habit of playing them from memory and my memory hadn't been all that good, leaving out notes and small phrases I originally knew how to play, had practiced in the beginning, but over time had misplaced them. And the clunky way I've been playing them when compared to the way (the sound, the rhythm, the accuracy) my instructor plays them. Not that I should play near his level, but I should at least understand what that level is and measure my progress against it.

It's now noon, it's hot out there and I'm thinking what am I doing in here? What is it I'd like to do? Lunch would be good, but what and where? Does life become more complicated as you get older or just seem so? People want to know.



Later still. We seem to have thrown off the funk. Fairly consistently around lately, this funk. No interest in going outside. Maybe just the change in the weather.

This is the first Friday of the month so there's an Art Murmur starting at five this afternoon. I suspect I'll not go so maybe my earlier ennui isn't quite over. A steak sandwich from the local burger drive-in for lunch taking me about an hour to decide, a short walk then over to the lake and up a hundred yards. An hour to put it together, ten minutes to bring it off. Decent steak sandwich, though.

Evening. Nothing I wanted to watch on television and no guitar. We'll call it a rare holiday, a vacation. Once every now and then they're good for the soul (he said). So a Netflix movie (if I can find one).

The photo up top was taken at the San Francisco How Weird Street Faire with a Nikon D4 mounted with a 70-200mm
f 2.8 VR II Nikkor lens.