Camera In Hand
Sunday. Today they're talking about temperatures in the nineties and hundreds, nineties for the coastal areas, hundreds inland. Nineties here in Oakland? I was warm last night, I had the bedroom window above the bed and the sliding glass doors to the balcony wide open, but nothing like what's evidently coming this afternoon.
You're fretting over a high of ninety? This is California, my bucko! This is late spring verging on summer! The sun is shining!
We are sitting here sorting out our day, now that we've had our politically correct breakfast, and it appears to be getting warmer with the humidity a little higher than I like. This could just be my genes talking, genes that learned to survive in Iceland and Denmark, two places, I'm assuming, where it doesn't get all that hot in the summers. I could be kidding myself here, but you can see why I might fall into a trap when it comes to thinking of summer temperatures; Iceland, after all. But we'll can it for the moment. There are many other things I can babble on about now that the coffee has kicked in.
Later. It is now noon, although I've already set out and returned from a downtown walk with camera to clear the head and watch for pictures. I passed by one where I became absorbed in the person without thinking of the camera. I'll remember the next time. There's not expensive, these pictures, and if they don't turn out it's easy to delete them. (Although I never delete them.) A lesson you learn over and over and over.
Not many people in downtown Oakland on a Sunday morning, by the way, at least in the areas I go walking. I'd say more than a few were pretty much off the wall looking folks if it weren't for the fact my being there made me one of them. Maybe time I found other territory to haunt except I've lived and worked in all kinds of territory by now and I can't say I've preferred any one over another. Actually, that's not true. I haven't preferred any one over the territory I live in now. What's the difference between Neiman Marcus and Walmart's when it comes to the people? Some are dressed better than the others although I'm not sure one or the other makes for better pictures from a photographer's point of view or that I, sensitive I, fit with the one more than the other. If it can be said I fit with any at all.
This seems to be going in a rather predictable direction.
No complaints, the temperature with a fan on low in the living room is quite comfortable. I'm hungry, but have no desire to go out and get something to eat. I can't think of anything I'd like to eat. I've talked about this before (and too often) but it's an odd feeling. I had a waffle and a bowl of mixed fruit for breakfast. Not hard to eat - a waffle with syrup and pieces of fruit - but nothing I would have gone out to have if it weren't part of my ever so predictable schedule. No complaints really, just interesting to see. Deedle-dee-dee.
I do have a sense if I'm not outside doing something that I'm not really doing anything. If I need a change in life then I need to get out the door. Wrong of course. How many things (other than keeping a journal) do you do indoors? Lots and lots if memory serves. What am I avoiding by thinking I need to get outside to make a mark? Something stupid and simple if I knew what it was. Something I suspect you can find in appropriate books. “The American Male and the Automobile”. I wonder if bus rides and camera walks have a chapter of their own? Maybe Greyhound buses and waterfront walks at midnight with something other than a camera in hand.