Thursday. Although I got to bed at a decent hour after some reading last night, I didn't get up until eight, still feeling tired. So I obviously needed a good night's sleep. To breakfast at eight-thirty and then over to the hospital area to have my annual physical. A standard sort of a physical, no pregnant pauses where one or another facts need time to seep in, we seem to be in decent shape in the sense of nothing more has developed requiring additional tests. Good. We're indeed good with that.

So the morning is overcast, which is good for the picture taking, none of the evil levels of contrast yet we'll get with an afternoon sun. I'll take another swing by the Occupy Wall Street encampment, work on the pictures I've already taken and put them up on artandlife. They total about two hundred now, quite a few. Not all of them are particularly good, but we're interesting in the signs, the positions people are taking and, from by particular bent, the faces as I find them. I can see, had I been doing this as a younger man, this could have developed into an obsession.

And it's not an obsession now?

There's obsession and there's obsession. I know the difference. This is not obsession; this is, for the most part, out there with a camera having fun.

Later. How long has it been since I've had a full blown ocular migraine? It's been a long time, but one came on just as I began shooting pictures at the Occupy Wall Street encampment. One walk around the circumference was enough, let me tell you. I'd just missed the bus, so I walked down Broadway until I got to 20th opposite the Sears store and decided that was as far as I needed to go, I'd sit on the bench and wait.

For whatever reason, maybe there was a subtle difference in the way I was acting, the way I looked on that walk down Broadway, as a woman who didn't speak English all that well asked me two questions about hearts and lungs. I know that sounds weird (how often does that happen to you in your travels?), but it wasn't the migraine, it was a woman asking about the number of hearts and lungs, as if someone had recently told her differently and she needed an answer, and here was this fellow (in a white Panama hat, dark glasses and carrying two gigantic cameras) who undoubtedly knew the answer.

I think I said one heart, I know I said two lungs, the heart question wasn't all that clear. Was she really asking that? She was an older woman closer to my age than not, Asian-American, but she needed to know about hearts and lungs. Does that sound off the wall? Sounds off the wall to me, but it gives you a feel for what goes on in the world when you're experiencing one of these things. I wasn't frightened or even worried, although people no longer quite seemed the same out there in passing, any odd occurrence could lead to, well, something.

Anyway, an ocular migraine, home to crawl in bed and sleep for some part of two hours. I have an appointment coming up next month with the neurologist. Maybe I needed something to tell him, couldn't say they'd gone away, now, could I? Would have been nice, though, to think I'd seen the last of them. I had some sake last night. I've had a bit of cheese, not overly much, but it could be that combination. Ah, well.

Back now, I think, to getting the photographs finished. I didn't take all that many earlier for obvious reason, so maybe we'll catch up. Could. Might. On a Thursday.

Later still. Well, hell, what a day. Might as well end with with sushi and sake down at the bottom of the street, see how that affects the synapses and nerves. And watch a little television aided and abetted by guitar. We'll get back to reality tomorrow.