The menacing palm dons the season’s appropriate attire. Perhaps you remember his “Be Mine” Valentine or “Uncle Sam” glam for Fourth of July? He is a grim Easter Bunny, stretching out arms in an embrace that I wouldn’t take. You?
Maybe rather than give out candy, he sees you as the cream-filled treat. So don’t be fooled by the cute ears. The teeth! Look at the teeth.
At the corner where University Heights ends and North Park begins, my wife and I waited to walk across El Cajon Blvd. I turned to see a car come up Texas Street to the intersection; a big `ol dog hung out the window. I pulled around Leica Q2 for a quick shot, not wanting to draw the attention of the driver and possibly to offend him.
The Featured Image is about a 95 percent crop, which deliberately includes price of gasoline—down from a high of $5.96 per gallon as recently as last week at this station and others around my San Diego neighborhood. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/8, ISO 100, 1/500 sec, 28mm; 11:38 a.m. PDT, today.
To keep things simply directed on this Good Friday and start of Passover, I pull something from the past that celebrated another holiday. The Featured Image looks upward from within a decorative, metal-frame globe on Nov. 22, 2017. Location: Fashion Valley Mall in San Diego. I used iPhone X to make the moment. Vitals: f/1.8, ISO 20, 1/1350 sec, 28mm; 10:50 a.m. PST.
The Exodus and Crucifixion/Resurrection are about becoming free from enslavement—arguably differently but thematically similar. Nevertheless, so many of us are slaves to circumstance. Perhaps some kind of addiction, overwhelming debt, or entangled relationship.
Along the same stretch of Louisiana Street, seemingly several skinny blacks are outdoor roamers—and distance identification can be tricky. Do I see the same shorthair visiting separate cottage complexes or are there two different animals? That’s the question, quite possibly unanswerable, as the first joins the series.
I used iPhone 13 Pro to capture the Featured Image on Jan. 17, 2022. Yep, a backlog of unpublished putty-tats is in the queue. Vitals: f/2.8, ISO 50, 1/122 sec, 77mm; 2:01 p.m. PST. Let’s nickname this fine feline Kuro, which is Japanese for black.
One of University Height’s fixtures is Mystic Mocha, which through change of ownership survived the SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 shutdowns mandated by California Governor Gavin Newsom and also San Diego County health authorities.
Today, as my wife and I walked by the place, we happened upon a sign at the corner of Alabama and Mission. I pulled around Leica Q2, knelt down low, and shot the Featured Image. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/8, ISO 100, 1/320 sec, 28mm; 11:39 a.m. PDT.
The day is June 10, 2006. I drive my daughter and friend to the mall in Columbia, Md. when we unexpectedly come upon the Festival of Arts event, where cardboard boat races are underway. I pack Nikon D200, which comes out to shoot some of the activities, including the Featured Image. If I recollect rightly, the portrait is not one previously shared. Vitals: f/6.3, ISO 100, 1/160 sec, 200mm; 1:07 p.m. EDT.
The Nikon shooter evokes a bygone photographic era, before the ascent of mirrorless cameras displaced digital SLRs. Yes, professionals still use them, but a journey to any photo forum reveals a massive migration to smaller bodies and more compact lenses.
Nested among commercial cathedrals to alcohol and hedonism is the Hsi Fang Temple on Park Blvd in University Height’s main business district. The location is prime real estate that developers drool over, and it’s a spiritual stakeholder among one of the many San Diego communities where Christianity is in decline (see my missive “Is God Inclusive?” for perspective on that values topic).
I occasionally will see Buddhist monks, dressed in their more traditional garb, walking about UH. They are in some ways the biggest reminder of the temple’s presence, in part because the building, while massive, is unpretentious. Street-facing Buddha’s Light Bookstore might draw more attention if open more hours (website says Wednesday evenings and 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. on weekends).
The current housing bubble—and there absolutely is one—bears only modest resemblance to the previous catastrophe, which I warned about in a lengthy August 2005 analysis. Rising mortgage rates already are deflating the 2020’s-decade bubble, but the pop is unavoidable without fundamental changes in the actual market or the myths used to explain existing dynamics.
Since before anyone heard of SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19, which economic and societal disruption super-inflated the housing bubble, I had warned about a dangerous trend that ignores common sense observation of national demographics: Among the two largest segments, Baby Boomers are dying off and Millennials aren’t having many kids. As population growth stalls, there will be less demand for housing because there will be fewer people to buy. Meaning: All the babbling about not enough inventory has set into motion an overbuilding frenzy that is sure to deflate home values in the not-so-distant future. Before pandemic lockdowns, I had thought within 10 years. I now expect less than five—if we’re lucky.
The series‘ second Rosie is, whoa, twenty years old. My wife and I met her owner about three weeks after I captured the Featured Image on March 5, 2022, using iPhone 13 Pro. Vitals: f/2.8, ISO 32, 1/122 sec, 77mm; 1:41 p.m. PST.
The calico lives on the same block as Harvey and Romper. Current and planned construction of massive multi-unit residences makes the street rather unpleasant living for animals and humans. I am surprised to see any furballs at all, if for no other reason than the relentless racket.
Weather forecast of searing heat inspired me to take a long walk this morning before temperature rose—and it did, eventually reaching 35.5 degrees Celsius (96 F) in my San Diego neighborhood of University Heights. I mostly stayed in the alleys, where buildings’ shadows offered some relief. In the one separating Campus and Cleveland, I came upon a hapless plant, beret of pot.
What you don’t see in the Featured Image—and what I should have captured—is the back passenger tire of a Honda SUV. That precarious placement is what initially drew my attention to the neglected thing. Presumably, someone left out the item as a freebee. Perhaps languished from the second day’s unseasonable scorcher, or already ailing, the wilted plant appealed much less than its pot. Hence the presumed abandonment.
Yesterday, after photographing the bicycle traffic light, I continued along University Avenue in San Diego’s Hillcrest neighborhood before stopping to wonder at the mural that is the Featured Image and companion. The first hugs cross-street Sixth and the second is along the main throughway.
Is this who we are after two years of masking during the SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 crisis? Faceless? So stripped of humanity to be utterly featureless, without even eyes? Whatever the artist’s intent, I see an overt—not even hidden—message: You are nobody. In a society where even gender is disputed, maybe no identity is the only rendition to depict.
San Diego is embarked on the Herculean task of creating new bike lanes—and they’re seemingly everywhere in Hillcrest, North Park, and University Heights. Today, while standing at Fifth and University avenues, I saw something surprising that probably shouldn’t be: Traffic lights for riders. In a community culture where bikers barrel through intersections like they own the right of way, the city seeks to tame them to the same rules that everyone else abides by.
Hell, yeah. Hey, Two-Wheeler, someone saved your life. Thank them.