A Woman Named Neda
Sunday. Awake early, the chest congested, but feeling better. Better means this thing has turned itself around. Better does not mean I'm going to drop by the SalmonAid Festival at Jack London Square, but it does mean that after today, I'm betting that we're back to “normal”.
As in general bitching rather than specific bitching.
Let's see, dinner next week with Ms. M and friends in Jack London Square, that will be nice. Nothing much coming up otherwise. The Gay Pride Parade this Sunday, the Dykes on Bikes contingent I've photographed now most every year for the last decade. They've always produced a pile of photographs that I like, interesting garb, attitude and showmanship (showwomanship) unaware of the camera. What would be the difference in shooting “straight” women versus “gay” women? Nothing at all when it comes to photographs. It's all show biz, people, learn to go with it. Gay women won't bite you unless they do and that's when you learn what bi- is about.
Then again there's a trip up to Portland and then Seattle for the upcoming family reunion at the end of next month. I'm going to force myself to take a three day trip up to Portland instead of doing it all in one clip and wander around here and there looking for pictures and whatever else it may be such a trip might offer. I've said I've wanted to to this, well, let's “do” it and see the results. That doesn't preclude a shorter two or three day trip before then here in California and I still have this urge to take the train to Sacramento for a baseball game, but I give that less of a chance. Maybe a local big league game here in Oakland. I could get my head around that.
Still, a celebration of sorts on the trip back to wellness, the danger of this being a more serious sort of a cold that could screw things up fading into the distance. Pretty exciting stuff for an old man here in Oakland.
Later. Occasionally the outside world shows itself a peep, even here in Oakland. I watched the video of the young woman named Neda, dying of a gun shot wound on an Iranian street earlier this morning. It's still just a series of images on a screen, but it pokes its nose under our collective tent and shows us something we're connected to as human beings but really don't want to see. I look outside the window and the sun is shining and the people on the street are doing things like walking the lake and going to church. Nobody's getting shot, at least not right now in my particular neighborhood in Oakland.
Is it too far away, even with examples such as this video, to remind us we need to pay attention and sometimes actually do something - carry a sign, speak out loud - when we see the power structure we live in shifting in some dubious direction? I'm not sure anymore and lately I've been feeling cynical, looking back over these many years, but the cynicism of old age, perhaps, not the clear-eyed hope of the young and capable.
So they should all go out and die in the streets for such as thee?
If it's convenient. I wouldn't object, sitting here in Oakland, sipping sake and acting a fool.
Later still. A bus ride downtown, a walk then to and around Jack London Square checking out the SalmonAid people as they were setting up. A good long walk, nothing in the way of photographs, but I think I can safely say, after getting a good day's walking in, that I'm home free from this cold as long as I take care of myself now that I'm back in the apartment.
Take care of yourself?
Get rid of this sweaty t-shirt, take a bath and relax.