Played His Toady
Sunday. To bed fairly early, but then reading (looking at the pictures in) three photography magazines that arrived this last week before getting to sleep. Not sure why I subscribe to any of them, other than some of the technical pieces, how to do this or that in Photoshop and such, but it also gives me an idea of what people are talking about, what images are considered interesting. Best not to be totally in the dark about what's considered photography out there in the real world (he said).
Which means I got to sleep after ten again, up without having set an alarm (it's Sunday, after all) at six forty-five, off to breakfast and back on a cool overcast looking like it could conceivably rain morning. They've been saying something about the possibility of rain for the last few days, late today through Tuesday. Not good if you were planning on shooting the full moon this morning when it's at perigee, the closest it is to the earth for the year.
Something you were going to photograph?
On Sunday mornings I go to breakfast and read the papers.
Later. Definitely overcast, looking a little more ominous toward the west (if my sense of direction is right), so a walk out the door to cross the street to the lake noting the geese, noting is was colder than I'd thought and I really should have brought along a jacket if I were going to stay out and so returned to the apartment checking the nextbus app. Seven minutes.
Up to the apartment, on with a jacket, back down the stairs and out the door. Three minutes left. Arrived at the stop, the bus arriving some forty-five seconds later. Good. We're obviously supposed to be doing this, overcast or not.
I was curious what had happened last night with the protest by Frank Ogawa Plaza at 14th and Broadway and found what seems to have survived the night. A “Chalkupy” mural, good; various other chalk signs, one or two people who seemed crazier than batshit, but harmless enough near noon on an overcast morning in downtown Oakland with plenty of security people about. So a picture or two.
On then to Old Oakland on Washington to again have two almond Biscotti and a small cup of coffee, everyone huddled inside the small café, your's truly out at a table on the sidewalk. It was more than warm enough and I do like outside tables for reasons I'm not altogether clear about.
A walk then back through the City Center and over to Broadway, running into one of the people who'd been at the chalk mural. “Take my photograph!” Of course. The fellow in the background commented “this is so Oakland”. Oakland or no, a good walk and a good outing.
Took the bus to the morning restaurant for ice cream and coffee, a walk back to the apartment, still overcast; just the slightest mist, not quite rain, starting as I arrived. Time to futz with the pictures and think about starting early on guitar. I was less that responsible with yesterday's practice.
Evening. Another Irene Huss at six. A similar string of improbable events, but I seem to watch things with strings of improbable events. She at least didn't get herself shot in this one, but she came close enough through her own efforts. Ah, well. I suspect none of the writers or producers are worried about my opinion.
Some time on the guitar, at least, actually seem to have come close to raising a blister on the side of my ring finger. It should have been tough enough through earlier practice as it has in the past. Another reason to go through all the chords on a daily basis.
You're starting to babble.
Indeed. There's an Inspector Lewis on at nine, so I'll probably watch it. Like these more than I liked the Inspector Morse series where Lewis played his toady.