The Weather's Nice
Friday. PhotoShop CS2 and an exotic pole stand for the LaCie monitor arrived today and I managed to load PhotoShop and bolt the stand together. Necessary items for those who've wandered into the mind numbing never ending deluge of computer hardware, software and digital (you think you need) updates. I think it has something to do with missing out when they were explaining the meaning of life.
So today, instead of driving to Monterey, I loaded the new PhotoShop and attached the new exotic monitor to the new exotic aluminum stand and then made a half dozen prints. Oh, right. I downloaded a software upgrade for the film scanner and scanned the film I needed to make the half dozen prints. That's another manual I should read, the scanner software manual, bitching as I do about the quality of its work. The D2h, by the way, seems more colorful (cough! cough!) at higher ISOs. I wonder if it really was hardware or a camera setting and not me? I doubt it. It's another one of those devices that has a manual a foot thick.
Still, I took care of getting a blood test this morning and renewing my driver's license. I practiced taking the written test online for about a half an hour, but they didn't make me take no stinkin' tests, they just took my $25 and a picture. I believe I blinked. So it goes on a Friday in Oakland.
Saturday. OK, the alligators are still at bay, the mouth and head and sinuses still ache, but not that much. Breakfast at the usual place, a walk back to the apartment where, for some reason, I decided to take the computers apart, add back the old monitor so I now have two of them on my desk and futz with another page for artandlife. I suspect I'm avoiding developing the black and white film (which still sits accusingly on the kitchen counter). This is OK. One can jack off as long as one is honest about it. It all goes down hill when you start to lie. There is the slight problem of knowing when you're lying to yourself or not, but I find, even when I'm convinced of my sincerity, I'm still suspicious. As are you.
You don't trust your conscience?
You are not my conscience, you are but another construct of my brain, a voice in the dark. For all I know you're a registered Republican and bought a room on the cheap somewhere in the back of my brain on a lark, someplace to visit when the moon is full and you want to bug a lapsed Democrat.
That's a cruel thing to say on a Saturday.
Yeah, but the weather's nice.