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Taken at the Rip Off Press in the 1970's

February 21st, 2002

A Camera Geek
I got off the bus this afternoon after five and it was still light, that soft late afternoon light, the sun low on the horizon, deep gold where you can still see it up high on the buildings, the air nothing less than wonderful. This is good. This is very good. Spring is coming. I think of late afternoons in college, the sun, the air, the world exactly as it was this afternoon, the world practically oozing adventure. In college, you're looking for adventure. At my age, what I once called boredom is now called adventure and what I then called boredom - well, I was never bored, just occasionally distracted. Maybe this is too long a way to say I'm feeling good this evening.

And clear headed. A long ferocious day, but clear headed, no time to fog out and vegetate.

I received a package from Land's End yesterday, a pair of denim pants (one size smaller!), a nice shirt (for me a nice shirt) that looked just fine and two dark blue t-shirts, medium. I wore these to work today. The dark blue t-shirt looks OK, but it's one of those things that makes me think when I look in the mirror: "Who is this guy? What might I think if I were meeting him for the first time? Is all his taste in his mouth? Superficial?"  Nah, what the hell. I'm such a damned conservative dresser that explaining my idea of raucous would rightly set me up for ridicule. I'll still be turning over this idea of blue t-shirts when I'm ordering more of them.

Rien would think me an idiot, which is another way to say if I had a pair, I'd wear black: You're in or you're out. I have similar feelings about denim. I occasionally run into some old long haired guy in full hippie regalia: Denim shirt, denim jacket, denim pants and cowboy boots, bopping along as if it were still the sixties, and I think shit! He looks ridiculous. Which may be another way to wonder at my own slide back into denim. No denim jackets, you understand, you need something with real pockets when you're packing a camera, but pants and shirts sans cowboy boots.

The mind wanders and I rattle on, a cross between an old(er) ex-hippie and a camera geek.

The banner photograph was taken at the Rip Off Press in San Francisco during the 1970's when we were doing a magazine called The Rip Off Review of Western Culture. I don't remember his name (deteriorating memory on my part), but we worked together producing comix in days of wine(whine) and roses.