No More Of That
Monday. Well, last night. Not sure what happened last night. Managed to go to bed without turning off the printer and the guitar amp. Not the end of the world, but that's not something I usually forget. Didn't get to sleep until after eleven, but up with seemingly no problem to head out the door and back on an overcast cool without being cold morning.
Have no idea what the day may hold, maybe a nap starting about now, although I don't feel tired. That could easily change once the head hits the pillow and thus a worthy experiment.
Later. A bus downtown to sit out at a table in the City Center over a cup of coffee and a cookie to watch the people walk by. When there were people to be seen. A total of two pictures, but no complaints. We are, after all, an experienced shooter, capable of toughing out the occasional dry spell, morning, life.
So there needs to be a break in the routine, something different. I have no idea what, nothing seems to appeal, but something will eventually force me to go outside my self imposed perimeter. One suspects. One writes. Eventually. Maybe.
I don't have a guitar lesson for another two weeks, my instructor heading down to New Orleans to get out of his own rut. I'm not ready for New Orleans, not sure I've ever been ready for New Orleans, certainly not since the storm, but maybe a journey over a local bridge. For a day. A weekend.
The Carnaval Parade is this weekend.
Ah. Right. There's our long weekend. Push harder on the way I've always photographed it, do something out of the usual, take another step. That's about as radical as I suspect I'll get.
Later still. A nap. A real nap. Not sure how long it lasted, not all that long, but it took a good hour after getting up to bring the world back into focus. Well, focus: get the cobwebs out. First thing in the morning it takes five minutes, max. This time, well, I was still half asleep. Not complaining, just describing, but less odd for an early afternoon as time marches on.
Finished watching a Netflix movie I'd started last night. No worse than anything else I've wrapped the brain around. Odd to see how many movies are made, how hard they are to make if all these seem to be the result.
A short walk by the lake hearing drums in the distance, coming upon six guys sitting together over by the pergola white columns in a trance. Didn't take a picture.
Evening. Skipped the Don Matteo that plays on Mondays at six, so I idly went through some early slides taken in 1998 at the Cinco de Mayo parade, the year I started taking pictures after my long many decade absence. Interesting to see the damage I was doing. I had no idea then what I was after, so I took pictures of anything I thought might make sense, most of it crap. But that (in retrospect) is how you start, how you learn. So I scanned three I thought might hold promise, the focus and framing off kilter, but working with them, even the needed retouching is fun. Seems to keep me entertained. No complaints.
Other than their quality.
There's no other way to start. The digital images you can get these days with pretty much any old camera puts the film technical side to shame, but again, you have to start somewhere and that's the way you start.
We'll see if we can't get to bed right after nine. No more multiple naps. One in the morning when I get back from breakfast because I didn't get enough sleep the night before, fine, but two in a day? No more of that.