Oh the things that turn up in San Diego alleys. I can only guess whether someone hung up this wet suit to dry or for some passerby to take. My wife and I saw the water-wear while walking down the alley separating Alabama and Florida streets here in University Heights.
I used Leica Q2 to capture the Featured Image, which is the only shot. Vitals, aperture manually set: f/5.6, ISO 100, 1/500 sec, 28mm; 3:58 p.m. PDT, today.
Walking up Meade Avenue in San Diego neighborhood North Park, today, I stopped to wonder which “A” month is now. Because this poster reads April but surely it’s August. My wife focused on something else, stepping forward, pointing, and commenting on the absurdity of an egg hunt for anyone “18 and up”. Huh?
Odder still, the location of the poster: Garfield Elementary. That to me precludes anyone over 12. Then there is question why the school promotes an event that occurred more than four months ago. Granted, education should be timeless but this?
My distain for traffic circles rises in the aftermath of an accident overnight that damaged four vehicles—leaving one, perhaps two, as total losses. The Mazda that dominates the Featured Image suffered the most damage. Impact pushed the car partially onto the sidewalk.
The crash occurred about 2 a.m. PDT—so loudly that my wife heard, and we aren’t exactly close by. But some neighbors who were woke from sleep and investigated. Based on their reports, the driver didn’t flee (and I can’t say that he could have, since no one revealed to me the condition of his car). He waited for first responders, including police, who may have arrested him for suspicion of driving under the influence of something.
We turn back the clock to the early days of SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 lockdowns—to when flatten-the-curve meant about two weeks of home confinement and business closures. Instead, some states served up seemingly never-ending mandates; yes, California among them.
The Featured Image is a reminder and portender of future events, should food shortages become commonplace. What interests me here, though, when reviewing my archive tonight, is the juxtaposition of free lemons set inside a Beyond Burger box.
I do not drink alcoholic beverages and can count on one hand the few occasions of inebriation as a teenager, when booze experimentation started and stopped. My taste for the stuff is yuck, and I prefer being clear-headed, which was a big advantage during my working reporter days. People who have had a few too many, as they say, are carelessly chatty; loose lips reveal too much to sober ears like mine.
That said, I always felt uneasy being the only non-drinker in the room—like everyone looked at me oddly. Because when everyone else boozes and you don’t, the presumption is that you must be a recovering alcoholic. That’s how, ah, tippled is America’s cultural heritage. Sobriety is abnormal.
From Sept. 22, 2020, the outdoor patio of El Zarape beckons for customers during SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome Coronavirus 2)/COVID-19 lockdowns. I used iPhone XS to capture the Featured Image. Vitals: f/1.8, ISO 25, 1/2611 sec, 26mm; 10:30 a.m. PDT.
The Eatery is along Adams Avenue at the edge of San Diego neighborhood Normal Heights. Vantage is 32nd Street.
This Spitfire sputters no more. Its flame is extinguished. Late afternoon, I came upon the derelict on the alley side of a garage, in San Diego community University Heights. I had cut through a property after dropping off a bag of redeemable aluminum cans. One of my neighbors scours garbage and recycle bins for them. Anyone would assume, based on scruffy appearance, that he is homeless. Rather, the gent is nearly blind—with only marginal peripheral vision.
We met a few years ago, as he scrounged behind our apartment building. I learned about his ailment, which in my estimation is cruel. He had been an active individual who travelled extensively, and he obviously is quite intelligent and resourceful. Timing turned out to be good for our meeting, because I had an extra Google Hub—freebee from another purchase. I offered him the voice-activated device, which benefit took some effort to explain.
Tonight I contemplate the polarized, partisan divide about voting, enlightened by an experience while shopping during late-afternoon. I had gone to Costco for kitty litter, which cost $2.30 more for 42 pounds than a few months ago. At least the manufacturer raised prices without shrinking size—surely such action is inevitable.
As I approached self-checkout, a new procedure greeted. An employee asked each customer to show the back of his or her Costco card—for photo identification. In some instances, the staffer also asked to see a driver’s license. I inquired why, when making my presentation. Answer: To prevent people from using someone else’s membership, which is not free ($60 to $120 annually).
I dismissed the Featured Image, after taking it using Leica Q2 on Sept. 3, 2021. But tonight, while looking for something to share, I reconsidered the street shot.
My wife and I passed the discarded instant waffle, while walking along either Alabama or Mississippi on our way to Smart & Final in San Diego neighborhood North Park. Who left it, and why? Did someone accidentally “leggo my Eggo”, referring to the long-time marketing tagline? Blueberry!
What I want to know: Who rented this University Heights home? When my wife and I passed by on Aug. 3, 2022, a “For Rent” sign welcomed interest—well, until looking at the asking price of, uh-hum, $5,450 monthly. Granted, by square feet, the place is one of the larger houses in our San Diego neighborhood. But who commits to $65,400—more than an annual salary for many locals—to rent?
Buying is no bargain. One of the, ah, affordable homes for sale nearby lists for $1.1 million. Zillow estimates a monthly mortgage payment, along with insurance and taxes, of $5,797; that’s after 20 percent down. Who can afford to buy? Answer: The fine folks at Visual Capitalist rank San Diego as the nation’s third costliest home market, with a median price of $905,000. Necessary salary: $166,828.
I rarely walk down Shirley Ann Place in my San Diego neighborhood of University Heights because the atmosphere along the street is so heavy, which contrasts the quaint Spanish-style abodes. Residents sure seem to be politically, and opposingly, opinionated. American flags fly from houses next to those with rainbow banners. Angry progressive rhetoric signs fill windows one place, while conservative banter fills another.
The Featured Image, taken three days after the California Primary, captures some of the rivalry when compared to this shot of the house beyond—where, in second half 2020, hung Old Glory spray-painted with BLM.
Composition-wise, the Featured Image is not as appealing as the angled shot that I considered sharing instead. But the single pair of bundled socks—shoved into an empty drawer-space—makes the moment for me. I wonder what is their story? Why are they there? I will never know.
The discarded desk waits for a new owner in one of the University Heights East alleys between Adams and Monroe. My apologies but I don’t offhand recall which one. I can attest to passing by the thing—perhaps too tucked away in flowering vines to be easily seen by San Diego rummagers—several times over many days. Maybe missing drawers dissuade scavengers, who miss out. That’s solid wood, not pressboard. If I needed a desk…but do not.