Fried, But Fried
Tuesday. I spent quite a bit of time last night working on older Dykes on Bikes photographs taken in 2006 and 2007 that I, for some reason, never put up on artandlife. They're not ready yet, but I have enough for another page of twenty or so that I'll be putting up. My sister is coming over in about an hour to go out shooting, so I'll not be getting to them right away, but interesting to see how I'm filling in my time these days. Every now and again I've been going back to an old photograph on artandlife and re-running it through Photoshop again, cleaning it up with an older and different eye, making it one hopes better. Seems to keep me entertained.
Up at six with the alarm, to breakfast and back before eight. The papers say we seem to be at war in Libya, no coherent reason given yet as to what we're really up to or why attacking is a critical national interest. One day you've got two wars plus some messing around in Pakistan on your hands and the next day you've got three. Deedle-dee-dee. I can see why so many artists comment on the meaningless of things, the lack of purpose, the absolute banality in most of life's tragedies, death by dumb. But we do ramble. Let's hope that I'm the one who's dumb.
The weather looks good. Clouds, but a fair amount of sun. Looks like good weather to go out shooting with one's sister.
As with cameras.
As with cameras.
Later. I managed to put together a day with my sister that pretty much covers what my day looks like on any given day, except we crammed pretty much everything into it. A walk along the lake by the bird sanctuary; a bus to Grand and Broadway to walk then to the City Center passing the Paramount, the Fox and other sites of (incredible) interest; a walk in front of City Hall; a walk through the City Center, a cup of coffee out in front of Peet's, a shuttle bus to Jack London Square to photograph the usual suspects; a bus and then another bus back to the stop opposite my morning café where we had lunch and then a walk back to the apartment. I'm tired, anyway, my sister seems to have held up better.
I'll be skipping out on my guitar lesson tomorrow, but getting in my practice for the day later this afternoon. A good week for practice: longer sessions, the fingertips telling me to stop at a couple of points before they do something. Not sure what that something might be, other than to tell me I'm a good boy for my excellent efforts and I should be awarded a gold star. Or a raspberry. One understands they're both equally appropriate after these many tears and years.
A bit maudlin, don't you think? “Tears and years”?
I was thinking of writing “tears and beers and years”, realizing at that point I really was, if not tired, then fried. Not totally fried, but fried.