Of Fire And Rain
Saturday. To bed last night at a decent hour, up with the alarm thinking my, why was it so hard to get to sleep last night? Or did I get to sleep last night? Waking up, thinking I've not been able to sleep, looking at the clock, dropping off. How much was real, how much was not?
That was my thought all through the night anyway, but up this morning feeling fine, looking back and wondering. Did I indeed wake up a lot, just fitfully doze on and off, or did I, with all that, still get in a good night? As I said, I feel fine, ready for the day, the sun is coming up as I write, the weekend ahead looking good. We go on about “good”, but good is almost always good and we'll leave it at that.
Nothing on the calendar for things to shoot, but we can work our way around that. The Oakland Holiday Parade is coming up next Saturday, always an interesting and productive parade to photograph. Mr. P is making good progress on his artandlife re-design and it will give me something interesting to work with during these coming “down time” months. Many photographs to be separated and re-arranged under different menus and headings. Christmas is good (you may have noticed), the Chinese New Year Parade the next major event following in February. Someone with a little imagination should be able to fill those weeks in between. If I can find that little scamp. Mr. Imagination: the kid in the funny hat.
Anyway, again, a bit brisk this morning, but the sun is coming up and we'll get in a good walk if nothing else. And, if I indeed didn't get much sleep last night, I'll undoubtedly crash at some point and take a nap. Naps count to the good, here in Oakland. Good things to do. On an afternoon in June. Um, November.
Later. Nice bright sun, but nippy. With whatever's remaining of the oak leaves on the trees still having some color in them, it feels like fall. Thanksgiving weekend and it feels like fall. Not so bad, although it's taken its time to arrive.
A picture of what well may be the same Coot sitting at the same spot with his oddly webbed feet, this time taken with a camera with a longer lens. That's not quite in focus. That's, well, something to look at the next time out with a later model camera and a sharper eye. We'll nail this guy yet.
Again, feels more like fall, the Christmas tree people selling their trees, the farmer's market in full swing at nine in the morning right beside them in Splash Pad Park between the highway and the Grand Lake theater. A picture or two in passing, stopping to watch a man and woman guitar and bass player tuning up. Left handed guitar player, right handed bass player picking right along when they got it started.
Coffee and an apple turnover at the morning café. Not all that many people at nine in the morning, I'd been their only customer at seven. Not sure if that's good or bad. I've had the feeling things have been picking up these last few months, but now that I'm poisoning my mind with daily injections of bond indices I'm no longer sure. Probably best not to think about it unless it hits me right on the head in a way that even I in my bubble can't ignore.
So back from the walk, maybe a shot at a nap, maybe a session then on the guitar, see if I can still finger that four fret spread right out of the box. I admit to being curious. Be nice if I can.
Later still. An hour's nap. Just like that. It's now noon and the rest of the day, I suspect, will be more interesting in that I may actually go out again after resting, maybe go downtown and take a few photographs, something I've been fighting lately. However I've been doing it lately it seems, well, a bit stale. I'll be happy to do more marches and such as they occur, but I think I've milked the old encampment area for all it has to give this limited attention span.
Later again. It took thirty minutes for the body to start functioning again, but on the bus and downtown soon after, the sun shining quite steadily now which is nice. The bible people were still holding forth at the corner of Broadway and 14th in front of the BART entrance, the meditation group, smaller now, but holding forth at the plaza entrance as they have in the past, our man in the tree now a woman and a man in the tree, Mr. RunningWolf seems to be taking it easier now that time has gone along.
They're still not taking chances with maybe a dozen security people patrolling the plaza, which is still quite a few. I talked with one who made it a point to say hello, saying he was a three tour Iraqi vet who'd had no trouble figuring out Iraq was a U.S. disaster when he arrived, not sure about these people in the tents though, but amenable to the idea our elected representatives are bought and paid for and taking care of none other than their masters.
That's a big leap, by the way, for a security guy to be suggesting such things. Perhaps they too see what's happening from their perch at the edge of the shaft, perhaps he was just pulling my leg. Who was I, this guy with a camera? Let's find out.
But I prattle on. Lunch in the City Center out at a table, progress being made on the tree, another crepe with a little different combination of chicken and salad than the ones I've been having in the past. Comfortable, sitting there in the sun feeding rice to a lone pigeon who was vacuuming it up as fast as I was dishing it out.
So I'm tired, tired muscles this time, the head pretty clear. I could use another half hour's nap, may give it a try and then take a look at that guitar. I'm still curious about that four fret stretch which is pretty exciting stuff for a Saturday after Thanksgiving, holding onto my chair with both hands, the wind blowing by like hellhounds of fire and rain.