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The What It Means to Live in Berkeley parade.
November 3rd, 1999

Be Careful
I received a set of yellow filters for my 135mm lens today, the filters that photographers use with black and white film to increase picture contrast. Useful little devils. Many people have seen a comparison of two pictures, one taken with the filter and one taken without, usually of a spectacular cloud formation. Big difference. So with my purchase I now have the use of my 135mm lens with a yellow filter and I went out at lunch today looking for a sandwich and suitable subjects. This lens is a big bore bring that nose right up against the glass Nikon daddy and for someone who likes to shoot people's faces, this is a necessary item. (Slight digression here on the contention of certain street shooting purists who feel anything other than a 50 or 55mm lens is nonsense for reasons both technical and romantic. There is also a contention that one should only shoot with a small manual 35. I am not convinced by their arguments, although I use that kind of equipment too.)

And as luck would have it they were having a Warriors basketball team promotion at the City Center, a band playing for the crowd and some promotional materials set out on tables being manned by two of the Warrior cheer leaders. I shot pictures of the band and wandered through the crowd getting, I thought, one or two nice candid shots of interesting looking onlookers. Odd how good that made me feel. One or two shots (that may or may not turn out) and I've made my day, stirred up the juices. I treated myself to a tuna fish sandwich and a Coke, reading a paper at one of the tables.

This is maybe an odd comment. Xeney evidently got an email from some turd that caused her to take down her Halloween journal entry. Wavy Gravy at the What It Means to Live in Berkeley parade. The whys and wherefores you can read in her November 1st posting. My thought in reading it was how well she writes when she's pissed. A good writer, and she is easily one of the two or three queen bee writers in this journal business, she obviously gets down and roars when she's feeling peckish, and Xeney, for whatever reason, was feeling peckish. As an outsider, just another reader of the many hundreds, it's nice to read writing that gets the blood pumping. Nice rhythmic too fast to see the blade not only peel the apple, but cut, slash, burn, trounce and skwush the motherfucker. One does not trade bullets with Jesse James, my son, but one does not pass up an opportunity to watch some other idiot learn that lesson. Or read about it. I might have used Annie Oakley as the example, but Jesse's the better model. Annie could shoot a cigarette out of your mouth at forty paces or clip one of your buttons with a bullet, but Jesse would kill you. Emailer be smart, and, if you can't be smart, which of course you can't, be careful.

The photographs were taken at the What It Means to Live in Berkeley parade.