Dancing, dancing in a row.

Sunday, Raining, December At the Door.

This day is going quickly. The rain is more serious so the Sole Proprietor went out for a quick trip to get some cat food at the local pet store and that was that. No more adventures in the rain. They were having an adopt a dog event out front under the awning with lots of nice looking dogs on leashes, all of them wearing bandannas and acting spunky and alert. The Sole Proprietor has no place for a dog in his apartment, there's just no way, yet he caught himself thinking, "I hope they all get homes, I hope...well, you know", but stopped himself and said the hell with that. No need to feel blue about something over which he has no control.

He hasn't been doing much this four day weekend. He had dinner with friends and that was nice, but basically he's been sitting here at the computer, going out for breakfast in the mornings and not much more. There's an urge to shoot some photographs so the Sole Proprietor may have to waterproof his camera and find a way to water proof himself so he doesn't freeze his butt off in the rain, but he won't. Not today.

December is an interesting month. You get a little older and you can look back and see how you've handled your Decembers past. They say its a good time to go into depression and yes, there is that, but there are other parts as well. Everyone knows about the buying frenzies, getting the gifts for whomever, getting together with family with its own little set of ups and downs and the rest. The Sole Proprietor just wonders, though, how much of this is driven by an incomprehensible human past that very quickly extends back through Medieval times through Egyptian times through Babylonian times and then drops off into some serious aeon surfing where there was "farming" and then there was "before farming" and then who knows before that?

How many modern "men/women commute to work, talk on cell phones, get flu shots, eat vitamins, travel on airplanes, get married in a big church and have 2 1/2 kids" are really wired together taking their signals and experiencing their moods based more on the experiences and fears of some ancient ancestors huddled around a fire furtively looking out into the dark than more rational events and decisions of the day that seem, but are not, the determining factors of our time.

Perhaps the mind works more like a chorus line moving across the mind's stage, each dancer an element of the whole with one vote in an ongoing election that determines the mind's mood, one dancer an ancient tribal fear, another dancer the changing of the seasons and the sun, one dancer meeting relatives and putting on a show, one dancer meeting with relatives and exchanging true heartfelt love, one dancer "there's not enough money" to buy presents for the kids, another dancer "lets go out and play in the snow", another dancer Christmas music in the park and so on, all dancing, dancing in a row.

Which means the Sole Proprietor is nuttier than a fruitcake listening to the little voices inside his head as they dance the Fandango in triple time, right?. Well, says you. You start writing one of these things and suddenly you're in over your head and rather than junk what you've already written, you wrap it up as best you can. And its not the Fandango, its the Tango in double time with Fred Astair and some ladies from the Radio City Music Hall in nothing but tights and a delicious smile.

All right.

The Sole Proprietor is going to shoot at least one picture with the lights indoors this day. He has a chess set made up of Simpson's characters, Bart is used for the pawns, Homer the king, grandpa the rook and the rest bishops, horses and queens. When he saw it in a mail order catalog, he knew he wanted to play with it in Photoshop, see what could be created for the web site. He has a program called Adobe Image Ready that has a gif construction kit buried in it somewhere and he'd like to try it. See what can be done. So the last line in this day's entry will be to announce that he's finished at least one, set up the camera, cobbled together something to hold the strobes in place (His excuse has been he needs to buy some tripods for the lights before he can shoot any of these pictures.) and run a test roll to see how it works.

(later)Ah, just like yesterday. A few hours later and Bart is safely tucked away on film. Time to get ready for tomorrow. He has some deadlines to meet, some people to placate. He'll think about that now, turn his brain on after shutting it down Wednesday afternoon for a needed rest. Is it Friday yet?

The banner photograph was taken at the Piedmont Halloween Street Fair in 1997. The Sole Proprietor arrived late when everything was winding down and the participants were all pooped and leaving.