Sunday. I seem to have “tripped” into ocular migraine territory later last evening as I was working on the series of photographs I'd taken at my morning breakfast café, sitting there thinking my goodness, but the room and the head and reality itself seem to have changed in some weird way, I wonder if.... So, to bed, a good night's sleep, up at seven, to breakfast by seven-thirty, home before nine.
I'm not sure if it was diet, sitting staring at a computer screen, watching two reasonably bad movies from Netflix, who knows? So many causes to consider, so little information to guess. But a good start for today, I'm thinking, heating up the printer for the first time in a while. We'll see how the day goes. It's overcast as it's most often overcast, the sun to come, no doubt, a good day ahead. A Sunday, here in the wilds of Oakland, a last Sunday in July.
Later. OK, quite a bit more work printing out a series of photographs taken Saturday morning at breakfast, the two ladies having a conversation and their facial expressions of interest to the photographer, printing out some twenty or so 8 x 10's to see what kind of a shorter series I might make of them. Might be something there, might not. Remember my framing project? No? Well, I haven't forgotten and progress is being made.
A touch of the ocular migraine started coming on I thought as I was working on the prints, so I lay down and rested for maybe twenty minutes. A head's up of some kind, I suppose. Otherwise I walked down to the theater and saw Leo DiCaprio in Inception, not sure from reading the reviews what I was in for, finding it a bit long, but more than good enough for all the hoopla.
A theme I first became familiar with in reading Stanislaw Lem's The Futurological Congress, layers of reality, which might you be skating on? Gives you things to think about without having to deal with fantasies as far along as those laid out here, plenty of odd places to find your head without going to a movie and realize it's nowhere close to the ground, nowhere tethered to a foundation, but, you know, just out there inventing it as it goes along. You don't think so? Think some more, here in the 21st Internet Century, in the days of Sarah and Rush (to Judgement) and such.
But I digress, as I often digress. A walk then to have a bagel with cream cheese and coffee at the breakfast place, a walk back to the apartment stopping to sit and take a picture of the weekly at three on Sunday afternoons peace march being led (as it happens) by my upstairs neighbor. Not so very people marching I'm afraid. Perhaps I should have added one more to the group, but the thought of walking the lake seemed, well, tiring. One does not want to become tired in the name of peace. Outraged in the name of peace, now that's a thought. Outrage and peace. Somehow they seem to fit, here in Oakland.
You have a Seagull screed to write.
Why my goodness. I believe you're right.