We'll finish the thumbnails for the Fruitvale photographs this morning and get them posted before getting into a session on the guitar. I need to pick up a prescription refill downtown, so no decisions to make on where we'll be going, the pharmacy and then the City Center (I suspect) for coffee and - who knows? - maybe even lunch. The week has started and, nice to see, I seem to have started right up with it, the head relatively clear and coherent. Well, clear. We do read our own undying prose. There was a certain amount of wrestling with it this morning striving for coherence, the stress more on striving, I'm afraid, than success.

Later. So, the photographs are up on HereInOakland and artandlife. A quick bus run downtown to pick up that prescription and then a bus back all the way to the morning café for lunch out on their patio: a patty melt, ice cream and coffee. I was hungry and wasn't ready to return to the apartment.

The sun has arrived at noon. Only thing I can think to do at the moment is to take a nap, the feeling seems to have snuck up on me after such an energetic start.

Later still. I've been watching/listening to the east coast storm news (after that nap). I remember a couple of hurricanes in New York, the first when the family first moved there in the mid-fifties. Wet enough where we were out in the suburbs (in Yonkers), but I get the idea this one might be even wetter than I remember.

Democracy Now has an interesting news cast and commentary on global warming, its relation to the weather we've been having and how it relates to this particular storm, although you don't hear anything about it from any of the Presidential candidates. You do from the local proles, but the California locals are all either Democrats or one or two deviant, ostracized by their party, Republicans striving for relevance.

Listening to the PBS News Hour report on the storm at the moment. They have yet to mention climate change. PBS does run Democracy Now, so maybe they relegate the controversial stuff to the off hours, they themselves conforming to the national news, the unstated but rigorously followed prohibition on upsetting the coal-oil-natural gas consortium in charge.

You're not going anywhere productive with this mindless ranting, you know.

It's fun to watch - the storm, yes - but all the unstated rules that surround it too. While I did participate in the so-called underground press in the early sixties and then again in the early seventies, I decided early on against a journalism career. I think I'd ponder harder if I were in college making the decision now.

At the age of sixty-nine?

At the age of eighteen! You're crazy enough to do anything at the age of eighteen. Certainly I was. I'm crazy enough as it is with this thing and the photography.

Evening. Ran some prints, played a little guitar, ran some more prints of photographs taken Sunday to decorate the apartment front door for Halloween. Well, actually, I just wanted to make some prints, see how they looked on paper. Decorating for Halloween didn't cross my mind until I taped an oversize zombie print to the apartment front door.

I wonder if that's an unstated invitation to trick or treaters? Should I buy candy? Should I turn out all the lights on Wednesday night and pretend I'm not here? Will I even remember it's Halloween until well after it's over? Babble, babble? We'll take that poster size print down off the apartment door. We are an adult, now. Must keep that in mind.