Wednesday. After my eight hour marathon watching the last seven episodes of The Wire last night I awoke around eight having gotten to sleep around one. I say “around” as that's about as accurate as I get anymore when I'm paying attention to time. A walk to breakfast, a walk back stopping twice to sit and watch the world pass by. The usual number of people walking and running, a large number of younger women pushing baby carriages designed, from the look of them, to be pushed while running. Baby carriages - their looks, the statement they make - are evidently a big deal and you can easily spend big bucks buying one that fits your image. Which makes sense. Not unlike buying a car. What does my car say about me? Not something, maybe, I want to overly analyze.
What kind of people drive an Element?
You mean the “Elderment”? The car designed for nineteen year olds that sells so well to people my age? I watch them drive by (and there are a lot of them here in Oakland and Berkeley) and I see all kinds of people, young and old, driving them and if I didn't like the car I'd say something snarky about the drivers I've noted and if I liked the car (which I do) I'd say something nice. Better a car than a baby carriage, though, at my age.
The Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual Transgender Historical Society is having a Dykes on Bikes exhibit that opens tomorrow in San Francisco and they've used three of my photographs for their promotional poster and postcards. The original photograph was done in color, but I think it works better in black and white. I never know how these things are going to turn out - if they'll give you credit, if they'll do a decent job - but I think the woman who put this together has delivered on all her promises and I'm looking forward to seeing the rest of the exhibit.