Tag: Leica Q2

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Feel Free to Flee, Bud

Raging riots—er, protests—across the country shine spotlights on law enforcement, following release of citizen-captured video showing the death of George Floyd under the knee of Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin. A lifetime—oh, yeah, just eight days—has passed since the incident that precipitated looting, property destruction, and violence in major cities across America, including San Diego.

Is surveilling cops the new thing, in the wake of the alleged MPLS murder and its aftermath? I wonder. Today, as I walked through the alley separating Campus and North, flashing cop car lights along Monroe near Park caught my attention. Approaching, I saw some dude apparently filming what looked like an insignificant incident—something to do with a car that would later be towed. His iPhone pointed at one of the two “Protect and Serve” vehicles. I circled and captured four shots of him, using Leica Q2, from two different vantage points. Apparently, he saw me take the last photo, pulled back the smartphone, and walked off fairly fast—to the corner, around it, and away.

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The Incident on Cleveland Avenue

The overflowing mailboxes outside the US Post Office in Hillcrest seemed afternoon walk-reward enough until I came upon the ruckus along Cleveland Ave. between Tyler and Van Buren, which are in University Heights. As I approached from Washington Street, my eyes couldn’t reconcile a black mass moving amoeba-like on the sidewalk nearly two blocks ahead. Closing in, a line of parked cop cars hinted to what could only be a rather large number of San Diego police officers.

Residents looked on from the sidewalk, apartment stairs, and balconies at the commotion. As one gent exited his building, I ask if he knew what happened. “A murder”, he said, “in one of the apartments”. He pointed up the street. Yikes! But further along, I observed a policeman talking to another neighbor. I asked him the same question. Someone attacked one of the officers. Possibly a homeless person, he speculated.

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So This is Why They Call It Snail Mail

I rarely have reason to go to the local US Post Office—even less so during a pandemic—but there was need today and the weather was fine for walking. The journey made me wonder about the organization’s creed: “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds”. Yes, but what about swift retrieval of outgoing mail?

As you can see from the Featured Image and its companion, the boxes outside the building were overstuffed—like they hadn’t been emptied for days. This at 3:52 p.m. PDT, when I clickity-clicked Leica Q2, and nearly an hour after the most recent scheduled emptying. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/125 sec, 28mm. The other is same except for 1/160 sec. I prefer the second shot, which deliberately crops out the bird poop. But its inclusion, in the first, adds ambience of neglect.

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Gateway to Mid-City

When the Wilcox family moved to San Diego nearly 13 years ago, we encountered many things that at first puzzled but then made sense when thinking about how Southern California is portrayed in movies and on television. About 9:30 in the evening, during our first week in the University Heights neighborhood, my daughter and I encountered the sign on El Cajon as we turned off Park and drove to a nearby 7-Eleven. Rustic! Neon! The thing brought to mind 1973 (set in `62) film “American Graffiti” and cars cruising city streets. A few lowriders would have punctuated the moment.

The sign made quite the impression, lit up at night. But I hadn’t given it much attention during daytime until last week, when my wife wanted to walk over and take some photos of the thing. She used iPhone XS. I joined in, but with Leica Q2. Strange how novelty wears off and an object that so captivated becomes little more than background blur. The Boulevard charm returned as I looked into the camera’s viewfinder.

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The Cats of University Heights: Velvet

I first photographed this kitty on Oct. 1, 2019, lying belly up and not distinguishable beyond being bundles of fluff from a distance. Not until May 10, 2020 did this fine feline present for suitable portraiture. Thank you, very much. Sixty-second seen behind window or door, the fluffball earns nickname Velvet for its fur coat.

I used Leica Q2 to capture the Featured Image, along North between Madison and Monroe. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/200 sec, 28mm; 10:05 a.m. PDT.

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Sunflower Skies

Sunflower season returns to San Diego, and splashes of yellow reach upward everywhere. The Featured Image is unremarkably composed—and that’s being polite—but the moment means something to me nevertheless. I tried to contrast one thing […]

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Traffic Detours, Pandemic, and Makeshift Cul-De-Sacs

The so-called “traffic calming measures” along Meade Ave. at Alabama and Louisiana are nearly complete. I will be sorry to see the “road closed” signs come down—and I won’t be alone. California schools and many local businesses (still) are shut because of the COVID-19/SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2) pandemic. Semi-blocked Alabama—and to lesser degree Louisiana—is a makeshift cul-de-sac where kids bike, run about, and skateboard. Soon, the party’s over, following nearly six month’s construction.

As of this week, all 50 US states are partially to semi-completely reopened. Meanwhile, the Novel Coronavirus rages on. According to the Center for Systems Science and Engineering at Johns Hopkins University, there are, as I write, nearly 5 million confirmed cases (4,996,472) in 188 countries and 328,115 reported deaths. Soon to be 100,000 of the dead are from the United States (93,439 currently).

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Streamline Barber Shop

Strange the things you see every day and ignore until the unexpected occurrence draws your attention. Last week, for reasons I won’t bother guessing, YouTube’s algorithm recommended video “I Bought An Airstream! Tiny Home Project” by vlogger Monica Church. Bored, I watched—and, admittedly, intrigued.

Yesterday, while walking along the alley behind Coronavirus-closed LeStat’s, I walked by the Airstream perennially parked there and took fresh notice. With the “shelter-in-place” orders still shuttering most businesses, but restrictions marginally lifting in California, the area was deserted—and I had been looking for something, anything, reasonable to photograph. Out came the Leica Q2.

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Yes, But Did She Foresee the Pandemic?

Times are tough for small businesses that thrive on person-to-person contact, courtesy of stay-at-home orders closing commercial operations and schools. California Governor Gavin Newsom has outlined a four-stage reopening ramp-up to semi-normalcy. Nail salons are relegated to the third phase. Psychics, too, perhaps?

How unfortunate, because reliable fortune-telling should be in big-time demand during the pandemic. If I were this soothsayer, who should be able to see the way without my saying, Zoom would be the remote-conferencing choice rather than FaceTime. Gather together a family and offer a group discount, or employees from a (supposedly) temporarily closed business. They have questions, and you have answers!

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I Wonder How Much is the Pet Rent for THAT

About a month ago, I spotted a porker outside of a cottage apartment that my wife and I briefly considered renting sometime last year. While charming, with excellent windows, and lower monthly obligation than our current place, the one-bedroom flat came up short on living space; we wanted a little more square footage, not lots less. How then is it big enough for the current residents, which I guess includes the pig?

Then there is the question of pet rent, which already is an abomination applied to cats and dogs—and it’s too common a fee here in San Diego. Consider BLVD North Park, which actually is located in University Heights: Prospective tenants pay a $400 deposit for their animals and $50 additional monthly rent for each one. The fifty, even one-hundred, is typical for places demanding the fee—and so is $500 for deposit, which may not be refundable. Landlords could as reasonably pump a pint of blood from each resident, every 14 days, for the plasma. The vampires.