Thanksgiving Day, All Day.

The Sole Proprietor slept in this morning, getting up and going out onto the road around nine thirty or ten. He thought he'd go to a supermarket, but thinking about the lines and the crowds was depressing so he drove up Telegraph to see if the restaurant he'd found last weekend was open on Thanksgiving. It was.

Nice. He went to a Versateller up the street, turned back down to the corner to buy a copy of the Chronicle and had a mushroom and cheese omlette while he read the paper and drank his coffee.

Telegraph, usually filled to overflowing with people at tables selling necessary items like t-shirts, bumper stickers, candle holders, incense and all manner of jewelry, some of it actually made by hand, to crowds of people flowing along the sidewalks, was empty, except for small widely scattered groups of street people who were strangely absorbed in their own affairs and conversations. Its as if the street had been drained away from them like water from fish except they weren't flopping about on the pavement, but carrying on unconcerned and unaffected.

The Sole Proprietor walked down to a bakery after breakfast and bought a fresh loaf of bread then backtracked to a small store near the restaurant and bought a can of white tuna packed in water, a flat can of baby clams in oil, two Coca-Colas and a New York Times. Life was looking better. A good breakfast, a good late afternoon meal and a long day to meddle with the workings of his web site. This is a good Thanksgiving? Well, yes. How many days do you get in this life where time is on a kind of holiday suspension and you can potter around the place playing with toys, eating pretty much what you want, watching the ball game if that's the idea or listening to a CD? Not very often and when the opportunity comes you grab it.

Two CDs the Sole Proprietor ordered arrived at the office yesterday and he's looking forward to playing them. The Bob Dylan Live 1966 CD so much talked about, and Pink Flag by Wire, a band the Sole Proprietor is unfamiliar with, but one mentioned as a favorite by Rien Post in his journal.

One resolution, though, on the way back home. The Sole Proprietor will buy a digital camera. That empty Telegraph Avenue would have made a good picture with this journal entry. He had one of his Nikons with him, he is usually never without it, but they take pictures in blocks of 36 before you can have them processed and even with a one hour shop, standing outside the door in the rain with your cash in hand, it still takes a day to get them together and on Thanksgiving, well forget it. Black and white you can process yourself, but so what? Thirty six pictures before you can drop it in the soup and half the day is over. Better a digital photograph, bam!, its in the computer and on the web, no mess, no bother.

So lets see. His resolution to put more pictures in these journals is flagging and if that can be fixed by spending money, even money he doesn't really have, well then let's have at it.

San Francisco photographed off the end of the Rockridge BART station platform in December, 1997.