On paper?

Well, internet paper. I still read the paper(s), but that, I suspect, is going down pretty quick, what with cutting trees and carbon and such.

Anyway, a decent breakfast at the usual place. Four or five others in the dining area having breakfast this time, youngsters in their twenties mostly, grabbing a breakfast between heading from where to where? I'm the only one reading a newspaper, but you don't expect a lot of reading when two or more people have breakfast together, the opportunity for conversation too important to sacrifice for, say, the Chronicle. I'm ambivalent about the Chronicle, but then I'm ambivalent these days about so many things.

Still, as I said, the head relatively clear. I'll get out for a walk later and we'll see if exercise and adventure (in moderation, we are not looking to duplicate yesterday's events) fog the brain. None of this five mile walking stuff. Last night, after the body had been able to rest through the afternoon, the world came back into focus, so I'm wondering (at too great length, I'm afraid) if it's just that. When you're tired you go flat, not so hard to figure out you'd think. That's why most writers write in the mornings, first thing, four hours while the brain is alive, let the rest of the day do as it will.

And the difference in your day when your head is clear? Do you find novel and interesting things to do?

Let's not go there. I can write more easily when the head is clear, from my own experience anyway. Other than that, well, I'm more likely to vacuum the rugs on a clear headed day. That's progress of some sort. I find I do the laundry under either condition, clear or cloudy, but that has to do more with socks, clean socks. There are only a few things absolutely required to face this world and clean socks is one. Clean socks and being able to tie your own shoes. You may think this trivial, clean socks after all, but what would life be like if you had to, say, run six miles before your day could begin? See?

Later. A much better walk starting with a bus downtown, a cup of coffee out on the patio at Peet's, a bus back beyond my usual stop across the street from the breakfast café, not stopping, nothing I wanted to eat or drink, running into Mr. K who was out with a camera looking for photographs. Mr. K spends many of his waking hours at Yoshi's and other jazz venues in the area absorbing the music and taking pictures. I'm envious, of course, he's able to satisfy two of his bents (jazz and photography) to his heart's content while I'm still scratching for direction and balance. No complaints, but nice to see someone making good time further down the line. I'll catch up, James, I'm just not sure how. Or when. Or if.

Bright sun, high contrast, not the greatest environment for photographs. I ran into this scene sitting in the park across from the Grand Lake theater, the both of them facing off (good naturedly) in the distance. How to take their photograph? A walk around to the side approaching from behind the palms, one or two photographs, none of them getting what I'd first hoped to capture. Still, for a late morning and afternoon, a little excitement, keeps the blood pumping.

Otherwise what? Earlier in the day, a photograph of a dirigible while sitting by the lake advertising Farmer's Insurance. We do have a bunch of these, so I guess they work. Maybe people take out their cell phones and dial Farmer's right on the spot. I took the picture for Mr. A, even though I knew it wasn't the type that had caught his interest. Still, we're sitting there with a camera in our lap and, once you've popped for the equipment, the photos are free.