Category: Photo

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Finally, Charming Restoration

I read somewhere—and, damn, can’t recollect where—that this beautiful building, and cottage studios below, was early in the last Century a residence for nurses. But I have no source that confirms fact. Apologies for that, although my confidence is high. With so many structures stripped to the studs as part of massive renovations—or, worse, leveled and replaced by tasteless high-rises—this property’s makeover preserves past character. To whomever owns the multi-rental place, huge thanks.

My first real experience with this landmark goes back to Christmas Day 2016, when I met Comet, Herman, RomanWillow, and their owner; all four animals are profiled in my “Cats of University Heights” series. She had lived in a studio apartment for 19 years, but not for much longer. A few months later, nearly all the cottage residents moved out to make way for contractors, who spent much of 2017 renovating the courtyard buildings.

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Rusty Rider

This exercise bike is nowhere nearly as classic as another that I photographed two months ago today. Condition and color mark the difference. One is rustic, the other is rusted. Still, if you need stationary pedal power, free is the right price. Looked like someone was moving out of an apartment, as I walked by this morning—along Carmelina Drive—and the contraption wasn’t fit to take; of course, assuming the thing works, you could get fit taking it to ride.

Location is close to where lived Hope, who appeared in my “Cats of University Heights” series last year. I used Leica Q2 to capture the Featured Image (warning: 34MB file), which is composed as shot. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/8, ISO 100, 1/60 sec, 28mm; 10:06 a.m. PDT.

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The Cats of University Heights: Wary

Along several streets on the East side of Park Blvd., a neighbor has posted photo and description of a skinny—observably emaciated—grey female wearing a collar and bell. The person hopes to catch the presumably lost, or abandoned, kitty and take her to the animal shelter or vet for microchip scan that might identify—and possibly help locate—the owner(s).

So, as the sun started sinking below the horizon, I moseyed over for a late-day walk—during what is typically an active time for cats. I passed Reddy sitting in front of his new, self-adopted home on Georgia. Moments earlier, I came upon a tan-and-white shorthair between Meade and Mission. My raising Leica Q2 to shoot put the animal in trepidation stance. The Featured Image is the first of three taken and the only one usable. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/2.8, ISO 500, 1/125 sec, 28mm; 7:47 p.m. PDT.

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The Question is Why?

If I rightly recall from past signage, the same neighbor also believes that the U.S. government was behind the Sept. 11, 2001 terrorist attacks. Looking at this simple statement, perhaps he is among conspiracy theorists convinced that SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 vaccines also inject nanites. If I could be so bold to suggest: Should Deep State operatives really want to track you, the 4G or 5G smartphone already carried would be more than sufficient. My question: What makes you (or me) so important that anyone would bother?

We already live in a surveillance society. If not cameras from any other house, it’s Facebook, Google, your Internet Service Provider, or a host of other online entities watching—and creating profiles about you. Because bungling bureaucracy is so certain, I would welcome government snooping over the efficiencies of high-tech money-grubbers committed to turning you (or me) into a profitable commodity. Suddenly, writing this paragraph, I am convincing myself that “No 4G/5G Here”—or any Internet access—has merit. Or maybe it’s time to install the VPN software that I licensed long ago but never activated. 🙂

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‘This is the Ugliest Hat I’ve Seen in My Life’

For only the second time since the SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 lockdowns started 15 months ago, today my wife and I ventured to the local IKEA—a previously frequent haunt. Stark, barren, warehouse atmosphere sank both our moods. The place felt less like lively, stylish Scandinavian showcase of tasteful, affordable household furnishings and more like an apocalyptic wasteland.

Somewhere in the storage section, alongside various-sized blue and yellow-accented polypropylene bags and totes, I came upon the strangest thing: Heavily-logoed bucket hats made out of the same material. I remember wearing that style as a kid—and it was a favorite among the fishermen in Dad’s Allagash hunting parties. Suddenly, bucket hats are fashion-chic—a trend loosely taking hold in 2020 but exploding this year as people emerge from COVID confinement and return to something resembling normalcy.

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It’s Analog Time

Four days ago, the Automatic Sport Timer 0921 arrived from Luminox. This isn’t my first watch from the company. I previously owned the A.1847 Field Chronograph (2011), the A.1848 Field Chronograph (2012), and the 3187 Navy Seal (2013-15). I loved them all, but let each go during periods of financial uncertainty and to test various smartwatches. The new timepiece replaces the Apple Watch Series 5 retired on May 31, 2021.

The 0921 is my second automatic mechanical watch, joining the TAG Heuer Carrera Calibre 7 Twin-Time acquired three years ago next month. Both represent simplification, as I seek to minimize distractions and maximize attention—change precipitated in part by an aging brain. My short-term memory isn’t as reliable as younger me, although I am still plenty mentally sharp just not as quick.

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Well, Stone the Crows

And I am so glad this bird isn’t a raven (gulp, unless I misidentified, which easily could be). I’ve been humming Stevie Wonder song “Superstition” since the sighting earlier today and only while writing made the subconscious mental connection: Ravens as forebears of bad luck, or worse. But I’m not really superstitious—or wouldn’t be if not for the odd encounter.

While walking along Madison, approaching the alley between North and Campus in my San Diego neighborhood of University Heights, the flyer landed on a fence beside me. He seemed to want something, and I wondered if perhaps people feed him. Of course, the encounter could have been, uh-hum, an omen. The bird perched long enough for me to step back, pull out Leica Q2, and compose two shots (changing aperture between) before flying off.

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Cheerful, But Serious

I don’t recall seeing this friendly graffiti yesterday—or the day before. I walk past the intersection of Adams and Florida often enough that surely my ever-roving eyes would have seen something and registered so in aging synapses. New or not, zooming in on the Featured Image suggests that the message wasn’t painted but slapped on and glued (look to the apparent air-bubbles typical of paper pressed onto a surface).

Maybe coincidence, or not, the flower is opposite the alley location where I found the “Yellow Peril Supports Black Power” protest placard two days ago. You got to wonder if something—person(s) and/or event—connects the two. The utility box is outside the Adams Substation, which is visible behind, located in San Diego’s University Heights neighborhood.

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The Discarded Sentiment

What demonstration marched through the neighborhood unbeknownst to me? While walking with my wife through the alley separating Alabama and Florida streets, I stopped to wonder about the forlorn placard that is the Featured Image. I captured a single photo using Leica Q2. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/125 sec, 28mm; 4:33 p.m. PDT, today.

The message piqued my interest—and as a photographic object, I liked the mood created by bands of light shining through the fence. For your edification (and mine), according to Wikipedia: Yellow Peril “is a racist color-metaphor that represents the peoples of East Asia as an existential danger to the Western world”. Yikes!

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The Last Days of Apple Watch

Today I put aside the Apple Watch Series 5 (cellular) purchased in September 2019. I long considered taking such action but hesitated, knowing that if (or when) wearing stopped there would be an unrecoverable break in the activity tracked and logged in the Fitness app. Criminally egotistical as it may be, I relished the consistent achievement of my exercise, calorie, and movement goals. That’s the problem: the smartwatch provided little other meaningful benefits, and I long ago adopted a daily routine that needed no tracking to maintain.

I realized that the wrist computer had come to give me a little dopamine kick—or something like it—that obsessed Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok users get from checking their posts for comments, likes, and other reactions. A glance would reveal my pulse, which typically is in the low fifties when I’m not active; that made me feel good. Then there was Pavlovian-like preoccupation with starting (and ending) activities like walking in the Fitness app. What’s the outside air temperature? Twist the wrist. Who sent that text message? Twist again. “What are my active calories?” Twist and tap.