[Journal Menu]

[Home Page]


[100 Books]

[Other Sites]

Here In Oakland

Art & Life

Today at the pump

My sister!


Under here.

September 3, 2010

The Truth
Friday. Ocular migraines in the early evenings, they're consistent at least. A rip roaring O.M. last night coming on about six, the head-brain-eyes coming back together sometime after seven, kicking in hard after laying down on the bed with NPR on the radio in the background. A brief sleep, drifting off and drifting back, drifting back awakening slowly with the world seriously disconnected, the radio dialogue in the background gone weird. Where was I, what was I? Where in the sense of what dimension; what, in the sense of, well, what? I was I, but I wasn't quite sure what I was. Doesn't make sense, does it? Well, that describes the ocular migraine. Not really scary, although it should be; interesting stuff, in retrospect, looking back at it from a distance.

I talked about having cheddar cheese the night before, not a lot, but cheddar, none the less. Certainly the sake the night before and then the two Guinness that afternoon. How long does it take to take effect? When you eat the cheese, how long does it remain in your system, how long does it need before it goes into ocular migraine mode? Earlier episodes happened within an hour or two of consuming cheddar cheese and alcohol. Does the potential for an O.M. last a day or two in your system? Well, we have another appointment coming up with the neurologist. We will talk about this. I suspect.

Up early before the alarm because I got to sleep last night before nine. I figured I'd seen enough of the day with the ocular migraine experience, time to go to bed, take whatever vestiges remaining of the migraine with me to sleep. So I'm sitting here now early in the morning before setting out for breakfast killing half an hour (waiting on the newspapers to arrive) before setting out. The Tribune tends to come late.

Later. Up and down, today's it's up (hup! hup!) I hope. I feel pretty good anyway, now that I'm back from breakfast, the sky overcast (which is good, it was hotter than hell yesterday, will start warming up again later this morning when the clouds disappear), the day ahead. Some things coming up over the weekend to photograph, not as many as there were last weekend, but this weekend's are reasonably local and easy to reach.

A gay pride something or other street festival I haven't heard of before on Sunday. Maybe it's the first. Maybe the boys need to have one of their own after the Sistahs’ celebration last week, but that's just me winging it. We'll go shoot it whatever it is. Similarly something on Saturday down in San Mateo, an Asian festival of some kind. I'll go if my head is in any shape. So good, a long weekend ahead. Long weekends are nice even when you're retired.

Later still. No FedEx, of course, not in the morning, anyway. To be expected, I guess. I've gotten some guitar practice in, backed up most of last month's image files, something like ten DVD's total. I hate to think what a professional photographer has on his backup plate, her backup plate, when a month is done. Still, ten DVD's, twenty, since I need two copies, one for here, one to go off site. I have many months left to do since I've let this lag, but we'll get back on top. One way or another.

My, um, progress on the guitar is real, but I'm still an absolute beginner. Going to a new song with a different set of notes still takes time to get them right, get the sequence right, get something coming out of the little PigNose amp that sounds like music. A slow song, the rhythm ragged, but a song. Music. Like on the radio. Such is life. Interesting, these ups and downs. We're not discouraged, just appreciative of players who can play. How many hours did they spend practicing? I'm beginning to get a picture.

Later again. The iPhone arrived and my land line is now a mobile line and my t-Mobile account will be cancelled tomorrow. Or Tuesday. Can you cancel your phone on a weekend? On a holiday? I'll know soon enough.

I took a bus downtown when the thing arrived to let it charge while I visited the bus office again to apply for the Clipper card again. I'd talked with Clipper customer support and they said my current card wouldn't work the same way a Clipper card worked and I needed to get Clipper. This is what I relayed to the clerk at the bus office and she said no, my card would work and, in any case, they couldn't take an application for a “senior” card as the discounts wouldn't work. She may have just said they didn't take applications for a senior card, if there's a difference, but in reading the web site they go into detail about how a senior card takes care of the discounts and works. Bah, humbug! I believe that's the appropriate phrase. I'll call Clipper again, get the address of a transit shop that knows what they're doing and get one there. Hup! Hup!

I realize I should have spent more time with the clerk going through exactly what she was saying. The fact I'd gone online and tried to enter the serial number of my current card and the site had said no such serial number existed; the fact I'd then called Clipper Customer support and they'd entered the serial number into their computer and told me my card wasn't compatible, I had to apply for a Clipper card, neither seemed to phase the lady behind the desk. Did I clearly say to the Clipper rep I was after a “senior” card? The web site describes them in detail and I believe I did, but I should have gotten the woman at the bus office to be very clear in what she was telling me rather than giving up and folding my tent. Another Zen lesson. Step back, go over the logic with the lady, be very sure we're both clear on what's been said.

Still, no big deal. Something to take care of next week, a reason to get out of the house. A walk then back to the apartment, the iPhone having by then fully charged, read the instructions, set it up by attaching it to the computer and running iTunes (surprise: iTunes recognized the iPhone and proceeded to synch all my Outlook entries, contacts, phone numbers and the like, as well as adding all my browser links). I called the phone number they provided to activate the account and, my goodness, it worked. Seems to work.

So I walked to the AT&T store over beyond the Grand Lake theater on Lakeshore (boy, was it crowded) and bought a nice little leather iPhone case. Oh, and I set up that “where's my bus” link. Just a matter of going to the web site and bookmarking the address for my stop. An email to Ms. T to see what's she's using on her iPhone as a photo editor - there's a kind of mini Photoshop for iPhone photos you can download and edit photographs right on the device - and I should be home free.

That's why you got the damned thing! You've been jealous of the photos people have been shooting and then editing with their iPhones. You don't really care about this bus location stuff.

Actually I remembered the iPhone camera and editing software after I'd bought it, but it's a nice addition to my list of rationalizations.

You admit then to rationalizing your need for this thing, just another toy for the boy?

Most all my reasons these days are rationalizations. What in the hell do you really need anymore at my age? Scratch the surface and you'll find the truth. Strange concept: the truth.

The photograph was taken at the Chinatown Street Fest with a Nikon D3s mounted with a 70 - 200mm f 2.8 Nikkor VR II lens.