Silly you.

Silly me.

They're saying cooler today than it was yesterday, but the sun came out as I arrived home from breakfast and I suspect a bit cooler still means it will reach eighty degrees. So we'll assume t-shirt weather and act accordingly (but after a nap).

Later. And so a nap. Not a lot of sleep, but evidently enough, the radio program I had turned down low fading out and then suddenly coming to life well into the hour. Thirty minutes? Forty-five? Seems enough. Up and finally out the door to the lake with a camera mounted with a long lens.

Not much going on. A shot of birds out on the lake, coots in the foreground, gulls at the back, more than there've been, but not many more. A shot of a coot. Hard to get the eyes. A shot of another photographer winding up a photo session with two models at the white pergola. What you can comfortably steal grab from a distance without being rude when you're skulking about out with a long camera lens.

And now back to the apartment in the early afternoon considering another nap. Maybe go by the BART negotiations later to see if I can nail at least one picture I like. This idea seems to generate interest where heading downtown to have a cup of coffee or whatever simply doesn't. Things happening tomorrow and the weekend to lure me out, but nothing so far this week has done the trick.

Bored? Stale?

By a change in the weather? Winter on the way? Too many waffles for breakfast, not enough vitamin D? Take your pick. Perhaps this living like a hermit has consequences we might not like? Reality intrudes, again? On a Thursday?

Later still. A walk rather than a bus to the Broadway ATM - I'd managed to miss the bus by setting out too late - to turn around and walk back to the AC Transit building to survey the various news crews who were still camping, waiting, on the BART strike negotiations to end. The group seemed somewhat larger today, although I suspect no one really believed they'd hear anything until later after dark.

The guy carrying the banish BART strike posters got into a brief tiff with one of the men standing near the main door, maybe a union member, maybe not, and I caught a picture. I was watching the video guys as I was shooting, one of them aware enough to pick up his camera and move to get a shot, but not quickly enough and nothing ultimately transpiring that would warrant the evening news.

Anyway, walk down the way for a cup of coffee and a bun sitting out at a table by the church fountain, a walk back thinking I'd catch the bus (as it was due) only to see the bus depart without me and so took more pictures before finally walking home, picking up an ice cream cone at the 7-11 look-alike along the way.

It's turned into a decent afternoon after a stale morning. A long day, a long walk, a couple of pictures. We'll chalk this one up on the right side of the score card as we head into another weekend.

Evening. Braquo, a new French series at six about (what else?) less than wonderful cops doing what less than wonderful television French cops do. Fictional cops. One hopes real cops (other than a very psychotic few) don't operate quite like this group.

Ah, episode two that followed at seven continued with the gruesome four-some (originally a five-some) scattering bodies about. If all the cops in France behaved as these behave there wouldn't be a cop left in France in six months. Maigret's they're not. I'm sure the French police establishment is every bit as trustworthy as any other in the developed world (including ours here in the bleeding heart of Oakland).

You're blathering.

Nothing on at eight or nine so more guitar and then to bed to continue with Mr. Eggers. The evening has cooled down and I can shut the balcony door and turn off the fan. It seems to have come together at day's end.