Dykes On Bikes
Sunday. I am indeed very tired, sore muscles tired, but the kind of tired that makes you feel pretty good about the day. Up after seven, pack the cameras, drive downtown to park at the 11th Street BART entrance, catch the first train of the day at eight-thirty, the train standing room only until I got lucky and grabbed a seat when it stopped at the West Oakland station. Lots of people heading for the parade, one or two I noticed (how could I not) costumed out to the nines getting off at the Embarcadero station where the parade forms up for a ten-thirty start. I made it through about ten oh five before getting on BART again to ride back to Oakland, hop in the car and drive to my usual place for breakfast.
Boy-howdy was I tired, but tired in that good way where the back muscles and maybe the legs are telling you you've been stretching, getting out there in the middle of things without keeling over and dying (a little exaggeration here, if you don't mind, for literary purposes). I had this odd thought maybe I should put together an exercise program, get my butt in shape so I could last longer and cart heavier equipment in these outings, but only for a moment. One must not go overboard on a Sunday as sunny and warm as this one. Somewhere over there across the bay in San Francisco a million people are acting out their fantasies, some coming from god knows how far away to participate, and I am thinking in terms of a nap here in Oakland. Life is good. Everything in its place.
I did run into Mr. Y when I first arrived. He put together the San Francisco Street shooters club on Facebook and has been kind enough to turn me on to upcoming events I'd not been aware of in the past. Part of his putting the club together, of course, but nice of him none the less. He seems much more of a photography fanatic than I, probably due to the fact he's much younger and retains some of that good 'ol up and at 'em energy you hear about in television ads. Either that or he's developed a seriously wretched amphetamine habit. Another Nikon shooter. We talked for all of two minutes before going our separate ways to continue shooting, both of us understanding what we'd come there for. Did I get anything worth talking about? Who knows, but I did shoot a bunch of pictures, more than I've gotten in any recent outing and I'm considering it (including the aching muscles) a successful day (in June).
Later. I was able to extract twenty-one photographs from this morning's lot (link above). Some I like more than others, some I like less. They all seem to match what my inner eye is looking for, whatever that may be, but to do better I need to work harder (and stay longer) and that doesn't seem to be happening. But it might. You never know.
I spent most of yesterday working on the wireless webcam problem. It won't take an IP address. No IP address, no working camera. I'll get on the phone tomorrow. The thing has my dander up. I can see adding more of these cameras after I get this one working, why I'm not sure.
A good weekend, better than many. There still seems to be some liquid in the lungs, but I assume it will go away before the week is up. Makes me cough when I lie down, rattles in the wind pipe and the chest, sometimes lying on one side, sometimes lying on the other. I bet I wouldn't have these issues with a working wireless webcam in the apartment! I'm thinkin’.