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Under here.

September 4, 2009

K Street?
Friday. Some coughing last night, getting to sleep just after midnight, up after eight, a walk to breakfast for a waffle, mixed fruit, coffee and the papers. Took me over an hour to finish the papers. It's ten right now, the first sign of the sun poking through, the temperature cool (hup! hup!) and the day ahead. How bout that? Just like yesterday, only without a Korean soap that's worth watching or a get together scheduled for later with the usual crew. Doodle-dee-do.

No Korean soaps?

This is the start of the weekly Friday through Sunday fallow period for my Korean soaps. The two series I've been following, each runs two new chapters each week - Monday and Tuesday evenings for the first, Wednesday and Thursday mornings for the second - and each employs many apparently required indigestible Korean cinematic conventions that usually put me off, but, when I first watched these particular two they had enough, I don't know, “stuff” to set the hook. Is that clear and coherent? “Stuff”? They've got enough “stuff”, but still demand a psychic penalty to watch? Pay to play? Hey?

Another run on set of sentences.

I've been writing them now for some time, They're fun to write but take time to edit. Being so long they're, you know, tricky. You've got to break them up and time them just right or they're gibberish. But what the hell. I've done my time learning to keep it spare, wrote a book once with Hemingway and Hammett in mind. Short, snappy and, well, in the case of the book, a wreck. But now I feel like spreading it out on the page and having some fun. I often don't have the time or clarity of mind to carry it off, but still, fun. The purpose here. Fun. While I'm around.

Just as long as you understand people won't feel the need to read it when you miss. And you miss.

Later. A forty-five minute walk toward the downtown to get out of the apartment, a stop on the way back to have a sandwich and a Cafe Mocha out at a table on the sidewalk, sitting here now listening to the News Hour in the background. A story describing how contractors in Afghanistan are paying protection money to the Taliban to lay off their infrastructure projects and thereby providing a significant portion of the Taliban's total income used in killing our troops. Only in America. Or, I guess, Afghanistan. Why does it not surprise? Why isn't my blood pressure up? Because it's Friday and there's a weekend ahead? Because we've heard it before? Because we've learned we live in a bat shit universe? All together?

Picky, picky.

I don't think we should be in Afghanistan, I don't think the Taliban is a threat the way al-Quaeda is a threat, but giving the Taliban money to kill your own people seems a bit over the top. Don't you think? As an ex-soldier myself? We have clearly been blown over the rainbow somewhere, this isn't Kansas anymore, but over the rainbow to where? K Street?

The photograph was taken at Lake Merritt in Oakland with a Nikon D3 mounted with a 70 - 200mm f 2.8 Nikkor VR lens at f 5.6 at 1/1250th second, ISO 200.