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Here In Oakland

Art & Life


November 6, 2013

Later At Nine
Wednesday. Awake with the alarm, but up after another thirty minutes waiting on the eyes to open in bed. Getting to bed early doesn't necessarily mean you're going to awake bright and bushy-tailed in the morning. Off to breakfast and back on another nice day. Cooler, but still sunny and getting warmer. California. No problem.

Back to go over yesterday's journal entry and to post it rather too hurriedly in order to get the laundry going, only having to go back to edit and repost after what I discovered were obvious errors. Embarrassing to think anyone had read it. Most of them made in the middle of changes I'd made before heading downstairs with the laundry, so the brain is obviously not altogether clear returning from breakfast. Not worried quite yet, but we are keeping track. We are.

Later. Laundry done, hung, folded and put away: good. The same unpleasant combination of sinus and upper palate crap going on, though. Makes for avoiding going outside or doing more than lie down to clear the head. Again, who knows where this is going? I do have a neurologist's appointment coming up in another two months. Might not wait.

You'll wait. Why even mention it?

It's now afternoon, t-shirt weather, maybe a short walk in whatever direction to get some lunch. Same old “what am I willing to eat” internal conversation happening, but I guess we're used to that. Something will appeal, something will eventually go down come up.

Later still. Walk over to the lake, stopping and thinking before taking this picture. He's usually there during the day along with one other similarly older guy who's obviously been living on the street now for some time. There are others in the area, but these two seem to use this one place along the lake as their anchor point.

I've always assumed most street people sleep much of the time during the day in order to keep awake and aware at night. Not a safe and wonderful existence living out alone on the street and I feel a stab of guilt just in taking a photograph.

Anyway, a walk on along the lake and then to the morning café for lunch, a burger, ice cream and lemonade. I didn't order the ice cream, but my waitress twisted my arm and I finally gave in. I suspect she thinks I'm not eating enough. Yes or no, true or false, I certainly eat enough ice cream.

Back now to at least look at the guitar. A new song to learn, which is good, so it shouldn't be hard to start. In a minute. After a nap.

Evening. No more hamburgers or cheeseburgers at the morning café (or anywhere else). A nap of sorts around three-thirty to awaken near five (or was I already awake?), the voice on the radio going weird, getting up to glance at the photographs along the wall and seeing all the faces change shape. Strange. Very strange. Lasted all of ten minutes, knew finally what was going on (I wasn't in Kansas anymore), back now to what I perceive as reality. But boy-howdy, quite an ocular detour into the void.

So. No more meat of any kind I haven't cooked myself or yellow cheese for the rest of my life quite a while.

Nothing on at six. Watched Democracy Now to lead us into the evening, haven't picked up the guitar yet, although, with the head now back together and clear, we'll do a tune up at least and get in our practice before we head to bed (early, please). I don't think there's anything on later at nine.

The photo up top was taken at the Fruitvale Dia de los Muertos Festival with a Nikon D4 mounted with a 70-200mm f/2.8 VR II Nikkor lens.