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Here In Oakland

Art & Life


   


Under here.

September 20, 2012

Life On The Edge
Thursday. A slow day here yesterday, as you may have noticed. They do seem to come along more often now than in the past. But still, no serious aches or complaints, just a slow day and a lot of sleep. Last night, for example, to bed before ten, up at seven, off to breakfast and back on an overcast morning that will soon break for the sun. The days, at least, behave. More than you can say about the weather in many another area of the country.

Guitar today, obviously, the lesson having been moved from Thursdays at noon to Fridays at ten-thirty. It might make a difference, my ten-thirties haven't performed for me as well as I might like, but they're well ahead of the hours around noon. I'll give them the edge on that. Odd to be comparing times of day, though, as if they were summers or years gone by. How's your ten-thirties old man? Better than the nooners and those evil 4:35's.

Later. A bus downtown to walk over to the City Center for a cup of coffee out at a table in shirt sleeves, warm enough to set out without wearing a jacket, but just. OK, so far so good. The double vision was acting up, but nothing too debilitating, just, well, disconcerting. Somewhat disconcerting as with time you tend to get used to it. More familiar with it. Makes the passing pedestrians passing in ones and twos into a small crowd.

A walk by the City Hall to photograph the progress on the new lawn. It's taken them weeks to prepare, but the sod went into place in the last few days and they've been watering now to help it take hold. Went in fast. I didn't see it, but it wouldn't surprise me if it had taken them no more than a single day to get it done.

OK, we're rolling now, more energy, the attitude better, no thought to catch the bus. A walk back home taking a dogleg by the Whole Foods Market for a quick look through during the noon hour, not the best of times to dawdle given the number of people there to pick up lunch. I realize how little I've followed the organic foods movement, how few of the brand names were in any way familiar. What exactly does it mean when they say “organic”? You read many stories. Ah, well. You've seen what I consider a diet. An ice cream cone from the local convenience store on the rest of the way back taking the odd photograph.

Some guitar now, the news running in the background. I do listen to the damned stuff, gets the blood pressure up. Maybe good these days - the blood pressure up - as it often, without a little prodding, tends to run along the edge of low. Ho, ho.

And so?

And so it seems to go.

Later still. The thought occurred the car insurance was due, so I wrote a check and walked down the way to the post office to make sure they got it by Saturday. Passing a street mail box that said pickup at 4:00 I checked the watch at 3:45, thought about it for a minute (rationalized my decision) and dropped it into the box. And then thought about pickup times posted on a mailbox. Do they ever pick up early? Does anyone ever check? Which means, if no one's watching, they come when they will, early or late, as it wouldn't make any difference (to them). So why did I not walk on the short distance to the post office? Well, OK, I'm lazy. And, if it does go out tomorrow, it will get there postmarked with a day before it's due. He said. Confidently.

Evening. I thought twice about watching the Inspector Morse episode on PBS last night that started at nine, but this one had Morse as a young man on his first assignment. I wasn't sleepy so it was worth a try. It kept my attention, but got me to bed well after ten. Such is life on the edge.

The photo up top was taken down the street on Grand with a Nikon D3s mounted with a 24-70mm f 2.8 G Nikkor lens.


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