I wonder what about this plant attracts Japanese Beetles. As my wife and I walked along Georgia Street, in our San Diego neighborhood, my motion stopped and head turned in response to distinctly familiar buzzing. I knew which Coleoptera that was.
But where I expected to see one Japanese Beetle, there were several. Two are visible in the Featured Image—captured using Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra. Vitals: f/2.4, ISO 50, 1/2500 sec, 70mm (film equivalent); 8:56 a.m. PDT, today.
On the block of the same street where fruit falls to waste, another residence is ready to gather the bounty, as you can see from the Featured Image. Yes, the homeowners have placed blankets to catch the apples—something done without worry because rain is rare this time of year.
Exceptions occur, and today is one of them. Thunderstorm is just ending, so those blankies are probably soggy now. But, obviously, they were dry yesterday, when captured by Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra. Vitals: f/1.7, ISO 12, 1/1250 sec, 70mm (film equivalent); 9:46 a.m. PDT.
For the first time this month, I hauled down to Old Trolley Barn Park for the third Friday night of summer concerts. Performing this evening: San Diego Funk All Stars. I more or less sauntered through, taking a few quickies using Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra.
I carry Leica Q2 less often than ever and seriously consider selling it. I love the camera, but the smartphone is convenient and the photos are increasingly good enough, particularly as artificial intelligence-enhanced software makes magic happen to most any shot.
We return to the Allagash, Aroostook County, Northern Maine, and the single-cabin camp that my Uncle Glenn rented from one of the timbering companies—for $100 a year, back in the 1970s. He and my father stand near center in the Featured Image, which my cousin presumably captured.
Real outdoorsmen, real hunters. Yeah, there are too many beer guts, but the brothers were nevertheless hearty and strong. My uncle, the bigger and better-natured man, was about nine years older than his jealous, surly sibling. I often wondered how they could ever be blood relations, because dispositions so differed.
Now that I am (cough, cough) sixty-five, shock and awe rankle me. I always thought of people this age as being old; ancient, really. Now, here I am—one of them. I don’t feel old, but age is apparent from my reflection in the mirror or when walking outside. What seems like a fast pace to me can’t keep up with that of the younger folks; not even close.
Sometime recently, Ron Howard-directed Cocoon came to be available on one of the streaming services. The film released in summer 1985, and I was 25 at the time. I easily identified with the Twenty- and Thirty-something aliens, and I chuckled at the absurdity of the elderly folks hoping to regain some youthful vitality. Gasp. Now I am their age, and that realization caused eerie, queasy emotions while rewatching Cocoon.
The Featured Image, taken by an unknown photographer, puts me on a New York City street in either the summer of 1980 or `81—I don’t recall which. That would make me 21 or 22 years-old, with hair!
Good friend Andy Morris looks on. My recollection of him is his infectious, and friendly, smile. Where is it, Andy? Was I that boring? Looking at how stiff I appear to be, maybe I wasn’t so good a street preacher.
As I write, the first Presidential debate, between presumptive candidates Joseph Biden and Donald Trump, is underway. For now, my intention is not to watch. Later, I will start with clips and possibly peek at a recorded version through which I can fast-forward and pause. The live event promises to be pure poison.
Or stated differently: Various manifestations of elder abuse. Seriously? You ask. Yes, Biden for his sheer presence and demand to stand and be mentally present for 90 minutes or so. Trump, for the abrasive handling by the hostile CNN moderators.
Neither I nor my wife looked back with much regret when we escaped the Apple socialist computing lifestyle and adopted Android smartphones and Windows PCs. Can you say freedom?
In December 2022, I bought Surface Laptop Studio for me. Config: 14.4-inch touchscreen (2400 x 1600 resolution); quad-core 11th-generation Intel Core H35 i7-11370H processor; 4GB Nvidia GeForce RTX 3050 Ti graphics; 32GB RAM; 2TB SSD. She got Surface Laptop 5. Config: 13.5-inch touchscreen (2256 x 1504 resolution); 12th-generation Intel Core i7-1255U processor; 16GB RAM; 512GB SSD.
The crazy thing about San Diego is the way flowers, plants, and trees grow. Anywhere. Everywhere. Unexpected places. Along an alley across from fencing where grapes grow, I passed passion fruit today. That’s two different neighbors’ fence lines.
I initially whipped out Galaxy Samsung S24 Ultra for a shot of four fruits lined up. But busy bees brought my attention to the flowers, where luck delivered good-enough composition and a bee in flight. What’s not to like about that?
When I was in high school, my cousin piqued my interested in a Dutch novel published in 1968 that debuted in 1973 translated into English. Every few months, over the past three years or so, I looked for a copy to buy, but prices are generally exorbitant; the book is out of print.
Where Were You Last Pluterday? by Paul Van Herck is satirical science fiction at its comically cringiest. The absolute absurdity of American politics and cultural currents triggered my curiosity about how-true-to-life had the hilariously nonsensical story become. Something about our reality of the absurd was once science fiction. I had to know: How prescient is the 50-year-old-plus novel?
The cacti are gone from the alley art gallery. The gentleman who hangs paintings and such along fences and doors says another neighbor removed them. Their property, their choice.
That doesn’t mean they oppose the hanging work, and he refreshes the art from time to time, such as the mutt masterpieces that I shared nearly two months ago.
Welcome back to the North Maine Woods, circa mid-1970s. I am the skinny, short kid to the far left; my father, in the red hat, is to the far right. Next to me, my cousin Dan looks at something; my guess is an insect.
His sister Debbie, sitting up, came along with two obnoxious friends. I spent several weeks as object of their abusive taunts and teasing. Wicked women, they were.
