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Here In Oakland

Art & Life


March 1, 2014

Better Tomorrow
Saturday. To bed reasonably early although no sleep until after eleven, Netflix taking over that last hour as if it owned it. The series season I'm watching started well, but the plots are becoming ever more bizarre with all the detective characters seeming to suffer from neuroses, former acts of idiocy and actions too cartoonish to elicit sympathy. If these were real cops we'd be in trouble. More trouble.

Still, up not long after the alarm to head out to breakfast, without the Chronicle that didn't arrive until much later, to have the scrambled eggs, country potatoes, toast and coffee. I believe I've mentioned I've often thought their scrambled eggs may lead to an ocular incident similar to the one's brought on by the pork chop, sandwich Swiss cheese and ice cream I'd had recently. We'll stop thinking I can find any valid connections to foods and just describe the incidents as they happen.

And then just eat what appeals?

And then just eat what appeals.

Any other decisions?

Devotion of better thought and editing of these entries, but that is pretty obviously not going to happen.

Later. Another chalk mark up on the “things we learn as we grow older board” under the memory section: Justin Herman Plaza is in front of the San Francisco City Hall and not the Oakland City Hall where Frank Ogawa Plaza (aka Oscar Grant Plaza) holds sway. A bus downtown thinking I was going to photograph a demonstration against corporate influence in elections bringing this fact home.

So a muffin and a cup of coffee out in front of the bagel shop, a walk then along Broadway to Grand and a bus home. This on top of having forgotten to run the Protime blood test yesterday, remembering this as I awoke this morning. Hi, ho. We'll start writing these things down on the kitchen calendar, something I haven't had to do to remember them in the past.

Anyway, home now in the early afternoon under an overcast sky. No rain, but dark. They're saying no rain and some sun most of the day tomorrow.

Would I have taken BART to San Francisco if I'd gotten my plazas straight? Probably not. I had to cajole myself just a bit to go downtown, I suspect San Francisco would have elicited a decision against, although I felt pretty good once I'd gotten out of the house and the head cleared. More lessons. How to keep track?

You've remembered to write the rent check?

Ah, right. We're really in trouble if we have to write that one down.

Later still. Finished the series I've been watching on Netflix. Hmm. I'm not sure a well lived life includes a whole lot of movies on Netflix or, for that matter, on the local movie screen(s). Not something I would have said thirty years ago. Ten, more likely, looking back now with clearer vision.

Evening. To bed early. Nothing I can see that will be of interest on television, what with the public stations in the middle of raising money mode and the one or two foreign stations I watch having dissolved into high fructose cuteness.

Bitch, moan.

Well, there are such things as unread and unfinished books in the bedroom. Do you suppose you can coax back the reading habit? Was losing it due to a case of book burnout, as it was with movies, or a long period of working for a living where the working outweighed the living?

We seem to be entering a down spiral here.

No, we're just babbling on, playing out, filling space, drifting. Feel OK, but I'd guess I'll feel much better tomorrow.

The photo up top was taken yesterday along Grand near the Highway 580 overpass with a Nikon D4 mounted with an 24-120mm f/4.0 VR Nikkor lens.