Sunday, 28 September 2014

Week Forty-Two: Idea Flight

Hard to come up with an intro for this week. So hard I didn't even do it when I first posted this thing. But as I am being overrun at the moment by a cat who talks in his sleep (who knew cats were dreamers?) and who thinks I am his personal bean bag, I figured I'd go back and do it right. Or at least as right as one can with subject matter that so defies categorisation. So consider this week introduced.

Day 1 (288): 22nd of September
Have you ever waited for a thing for a long time, and wanted that thing, and then one day realised that thing had long gone out of reach? You build it up in your mind for what seems like ages, then find that Life did whatever it had always intended to do. What is that about Life happening whilst we make plans? I think it prefers to just ram through those plans, squealing with laughter. Or so I think. My plans usually consist of "if I had my druthers..." and little else. Big scary fence. At night. Kind of slanty.

Scary wavy weed trees. At night. Not too bad an execution on this one. Didn't even use the tripod. Just my thick skull propped against the wall. It's almost October, so I guess the Dark and Stormy thing works.

Day 2 (289): 23rd of September
Today was angry music Tuesday. Just needed to hear a little shouting on the music box, so out came Halestorm radio. While it occasionally hits the odd christian metal song, there's only a rare need to hit the down thumb. Have you ever noticed that the only time things get really clear is when we are dreaming? Makes sense, then, that we can never really clearly remember our dreams; the only thing that is easy to grasp is that maybe things made sense for a minute. Jabba the Hutt makes no sense. Neither does this photo that was poorly captured and more poorly edited. Not terribly clear at all. Too dark.

Day 3 (290): 24th of September
An old friend of mine recently suffered one of the worst tragedies that a person can experience. His 23-year-old son was killed in an accident. As someone who has no kids and likely never will, I was left speechless (rare for this gobby, opinionated, somethingorother). Now it is taking up rather a lot of real estate in my brain. Wish I could do more for them. Really, knowing what to say to people who've been clobbered like that has never been my strength. All I know to do is to be there and hope I keep my foot out of my mouth long enough to be of a tiny bit of help. I only kind of knew the boy, but he was such a good kid, and had just gotten into the groove of following in his old man's naval footsteps. Golly. Any rate, following the theme from yesterday, got a better pic of a conversation no one ever thought happened.

And then got this sunset. Didn't even tweak more than the exposure a little bit. All but the sun itself came out alright.

Day 4 (291): 25th of September
What's the cure for a brain out of whack? I really wish I knew. Knowing the things need done, but finding it nearly impossible to dig in and bloody well do them. Stayed far too late at the office today because I stuck around to get homework done and forgot to put the "CLOSED" sign out on the door (and was dumb enough to answer my phone when it rang). Real highlight though was getting home to find the internet finally functioning. Thank the Wee Man. Realising as I post this that the following picture is a bit serial killer-esque. But no matter. Playing around with an old lens for this one.

Another killer sunset that needed no editing at all. Makes my work easier.

Another rose. What can I say. They are not my favourite flower (not my least, either), but they are everywhere, so I photograph them. If there were lilies out here, they'd be featured far more. Who doesn't love lilies?

Day 5 (292): 26th of September
End to a dragging on week. Brain still feels like someone is jangling keys somewhere just out of sight, which is incessantly distracting. Temporary ADD, I think. brought on by madness in the surrounds and an uncertain future. By the time one is thirty, these things ought not be issues any longer. The ubiquitous "they" say directionlessness is a thing for twentysomethings. Liars.

Day 6 (293): 27th of September
One can be in a strange mood all day (week?) and never know the cause. There are a great many Things Needing Done, but only a rather small number will see the light of completion. Not because there's no time, but rather because there is no inclination. I watched a cat get in an epic battle with a blue Beanie penguin wearing a santa hat (the penguin wore the hat). Then later, to get out of my funk, I threw Under the Table and Dreaming into the car CD player and got so lost in the perfect that I drove nearly three miles past my exit before I realised I was going in completely the wrong direction. Came home to find that it is the 20th anniversary of that very album. In honour of spending far too much time with a fool feline, here he is in classic repose. Gosh I need a dog.

Pretty scenery, though. If you squint, you can just see the islands.

Day 7 (294): 28th of September
Got to do the school. The midterm, any rate. Gave myself a few hours for fannying about this morning, but now it's time for Important Things. To do with this. There is currently a ginger feline form lolling about on it, decidedly not helping. Gosh I need a dog.

Crazy. But that's how it goes...


  1. Flew to San Diego for the 23 yr. old's memorial when I heard the news... Just needed to be there.

    Was good to see Gary's eyes light up with surprise for a moment when he saw me. It was a change in his look from what was there previously and maybe a small respite.

    Hugged Jane Ellen and shook the younger brother's hand. Also looked in that boy's eyes and told him he was now doing the work of two. He had, and has, the hardest job of anyone.

    Strange and sad...

    Because I fond myself wondering if that lost 23 yr. old would have been a friend to another certain 22 yr. old if they had both reported to the same submarine years ago? The other boy thinks that the answer would have been "yes," and knows that he would have been privileged to have known the 23 yr. old.

    After all of this, I stood in the parking lot across from the chapel and reflected on the barracks that once housed a room for a slightly older sailor who had once called a company of sailors and Marines to order on that very spot.

    That sailor was bereft of his submarine and saddled with the thankless job of company exec.

    Many times he wondered if he was fit enough for the task as he lay on his rack in the barracks at night gnawing over the many failures and few successes of a day at the prep academy.

    On cue, just as so many times before on this very spot, an airliner lifting off from Lindbergh Field drowned it all out..

    Anyway, Nice blog.

    You get many points for having an old and thoughtful soul.

    Not many people have them, and they are only handed out to the most deserving.

  2. Thanks for the comment. Good you got to visit with the Colemans. Wish I could have done so.