I've run two of the naked people in the parade photographs. What a let down. I had two pictures on the roll of black and white, both of them shot from too great a distance. I remember walking through their group and (I think) shooting many more, but obviously being faced with a rag tag crowd of naked people I flaked out. This is not how industrial strength photographers are supposed to act. When the pictures start marching down the middle of the street, real photographers grab their cameras, analyze the situation (light, background, framing, exposure) and shoot before the pictures pass them by. Best I keep my day job.

As a small aside, and you can't necessarily see it from these two photographs, many of the men wore masks while none of the women did. A lady at the office commented on the chicken shit aspects of this.

There isn't much happening this weekend, so maybe I'll do a little aimless wandering to see where I end up. Maybe hop on a train or a bus and ride to the end of the line. I've been thinking of buying one of these fanny pack things you see everybody wearing to carry my film and batteries, so maybe I'll make a trip to a store I've never been to before. I don't like them for their aesthetics (well, really my aesthetics), there's a certain dorky aspect I don't like, but that's probably an old fart speaking. I'm wearing the same stuff I wore in high school. Old fart stuff. I occasionally wear jeans and a t-shirt with tennis shoes during the summer, but mostly these Docker things or Gap things with all the panache of a pancake. I still have some nice Borsalino style hats I wore in the 70's, but I don't wear them anymore (except in photographs) so otherwise I'm hopeless. Ordinary hopeless. Serious hopeless starts to get interesting again. I still know some rules about hip and not so hip, but as I get older I care less and less. There's actually a story here that I'll tell one day in the journal. Probably tomorrow if I can't come up with a better idea. So I'll buy the fanny pack. Big deal.