A Day in the Life

Woke up this morning 'round 6:30 and decided to greet the day*. In other words, roll out of bed, find M's Camera and stumble blearily out into the street.

Yes, this is yet another photog of the Westward Ho, but as Dr. Hannibal Lecter so succintly put it, we covet what we see. In fact, I've told M we will one day reside there, or own a business there, or maybe just go to a party, but damnit, we're getting inside! (If we could only get those pesky disabled and elderly people out of the way. Able bodied people have to live somewhere, am I right?!)

Here's a picture taken behind the abandoned building across from our place. I stuck my head in the hole, believe it or not, to see if there were any pictures worth taking inside. That and to make sure I wasn't disturbing anyone. In retrospect, popping a head into someone's domicile is probably more disturbing than a camera flash, but hindsight's always twenty-twenty. Neither photographic topics nor inhabitants were discovered, incidentally.

This was taken from across my bank, where, synchronistically**, I was headed to withdraw funds. The light you see is actually reflected off the Chase Bank Building onto this parking structure. Pretty f*cking cool, hunh?***

This fireplug is on yet another side of the bank building. I'd passed it, the went back to study it when I became aware of a short, frumpy, hispanic woman peering out at me from the bus shelter, just a few feet away. I quickly snapped the pic and moved on.

My father and his girlfriend have a tradition I was reminded of at his 60th birthday party****. They exchange postcards or photos upon which they've written numbers, referencing them to tongue-in-cheek, virtual catalog they've created . Simply put, all images refer to either the male or female sex.

"A bit phallic," said M, when she saw this pic.

"Naw," I told her, "it's an 'n'".

"'N' As in nookie?" she asked.

Which reminded me of the postcard thing.


This next photo is an ode to the tale of El Gato Perdido, which is too long to recount here, but accounts for the dissappearance and subsequent reappearance of Slacker the Cat. Just imagine yelling "Slacker!" over the fence at a bunch of construction workers all hours of the day and night and you get a hint of the sleep deprived mania gripping both M and myself.

Here's one across from our place, again. It's actually the front of the abandoned building (the one with the broken window) pictured above.

Finally, I was dozing off while trying to read "A Brief History of Time" and I looked outside to witness this sunset.





*M said I'd been beerily snoring -but- point of fact, I'd drunken nary a beer the previous evening - nothing but Captain-n-Cokes all night long, on my honor!

**Ode to my father for this word, which I'm not even sure exists.

***Yet another line lifted from my father, aka Big Bucks Buzz!

****Hey old man, look at my life! I'm a lot like you were...