Thursday. Another clear headed morning from the looks of it. To breakfast and the papers and back at the usual hour having gotten to bed at ten, up before six. The sun is streaming in through the windows just after eight, they're saying the temperatures will be in the high sixties well through the weekend. The mornings are cooler now, but the days seem just right. We're definitely feeling we're heading into the holidays here in Oakland. All of which means what?

Christmas decorations? A holiday special bottle of sake to celebrate the evening?

I haven't been putting up a Christmas tree or doing any decorating in years and years. Some say this is not good, these things lighten the spirit in the depressing dark days of winter. One does not want to get caught in one's own “humbug” after all. And I've always given respect to this thinking, but then again, I've not been putting up a tree. Or decorations. I have ornaments. I have the things a tree needs to stand and glow just as a good Christmas tree should. But I haven't been putting one up. Don't know if that's good, don't know if that's bad, but as you can see, I'm suspicious. Maybe think about it more in the coming weeks. While I'm practicing guitar. (Hup! Hup!)

Later. Even for someone as dense as I can often be, the picture up top has a certain phallic quality to it. I wonder if trimming all the branches off as they've done harms the tree or do the fronds come back in spring? Palms with their fronds in place, as the ones beside it behind the logo below the picture still retain, don't really elicit a phallic image for me, although I suspect if I were more knowledgeable or sensitive to say French ticklers, they might. Palm trees, French ticklers. Seems a stretch. I guess you learn no matter how old you get.

A bus downtown and then a walk or, more precisely, a meander through the downtown area for a couple of hours, taking the occasional picture before walking on back. More doors. Doorways. A picture or two of a building I've photographed many times in the past. Another building I haven't photographed before, really nice old weathered brick and graffiti. What more could a photographer ask?

Some thinking, as I was walking. As I do. I'm in a rut, as many are in a rut, get themselves into a rut, and I need, if I'm honest, to actively look for a way out. Not that the world would end if I continue as I have, I'm relatively comfortable here, but this place is a place for a chapter now ended and another place is needed for the future. Assuming, always, there is a future. We are not being depressing here, just, you know, mentioning the obvious.

I'll leave it at that as I always have. I've lived in San Francisco when I was younger, in Napa when I was older, living now here in Oakland. Where else? What else? I suspect if the photography should lead to something of real interest it wouldn't matter where I lived, but what do I mean by leading to something of more interest? A project that takes off? A job? A project makes sense, all photographers eventually get into projects: little ones, big ones; my building doors are an experimentation with a project of sorts. But take off? Do doors fly?

Perfectly valid, perfectly good, my doors. A job doesn't make much sense at my age and current inclinations. Something for charity, sure. You could call that a job. I could see that. But what? The ever present what? I wonder if I'll notice it should I run across it? Ah, well.

A plan to go by Harrington's in the city to meet with the usual crew. It's Thursday, after all. I'm ambivalent about it at the moment, but suspect I'll be less so as the afternoon wanes and the energy quickens.