A brief vacation (film reference)
Yesterday with the Blue Angels roaring above me, it occurred to me that this could well be the last greening event of this season, and that I should try to get out of town. Some people would go to their house in the country, but I'm not "some people." I'm at the Barnes & Noble in Emeryville.This area is a step above Generica, but only a step. The quick bus ride over the Bay Bridge is always fun -- my chance to see how the demolition of the old Bay Bridge is going. (Slowly.) I picked the best three architecture and design mags off the rack, but the selection here isn't as good as it was at Borders, so it's more design and decorating. But first I need to catch up on the weekend.
Fleet Week
Saturday was hot. We only had a half dozen or so hot days this summer, and that was one of them. I was roving the fenced in and tented VIP areas (less shade than you would think) but returned to our dumpster base for bags and to drop off hazardous waste -- half full Sterno cans, and lots of them. And to refill my water. On one visit I noticed that two people were there sorting in the sun when we had a tent for shade sitting in it's bag. I quickly sold them on the idea of setting up the tent, and then finished my water break in the shade. This passes for the wisdom of age in these pathetic days.Sunday the weather was already starting to change. When I arrived there were wisps of fog flowing through the Golden Gate, and at the end of the day there was a wall of fog. Still warm enough at mid-day, though. Today it was actually cold in the morning and we are expecting our first real rain since April by the end of the week. I can't wait.
People here either love or hate Fleet Week -- and by "Fleet Week" what most people mean is the Blue Angels' air show. I've always enjoyed the show but now that I've worked in the area with the best view for several years, I don't even watch that much of it. A large part of that is that I'm busy working. The Angels are the final act in an hours long show and that's our cue to get things wrapped up and ready for when the crowd starts to leave.
The other reason I don't watch that much is that planes zooming about get's dull after so many viewings. I paid more attention to the F-22 demonstration because a plane with vectored thrust can do all sorts of new and unusual things. In a way, the low pass by the United Airlines 747 (an event sponsor) was as impressive as anything else. The perfect combination of Big and Loud.
Dreaming
I set my alarm unusually early this morning but I was already awake when the alarm went off. I had just startled myself awake from a great dream. Dreams never cease to amaze me. What woke me up was wanting, in the dream, to email a friend about what a great art gallery I was visiting.Except that it wasn't an art gallery but rather a long narrow room lined with all sorts of displays. There were books, there were various collections of things, there was what I can only describe as a framed gif, only it was upside down. But what I especially liked were these framed, sculptural things each painted in one color. Often the art in my dreams is more detailed and convoluted than I can imagine creating myself, but these pieces were quite simple, like a half dozen pieces of wood lined up and placed in the frame and then all of that painted a medium green -- far from the color I would choose. And yet somehow it was totally compelling. I even backed up in my progression around the room for a second look.
Now, if you are imagining this at all, you've got it wrong. For one thing, all this was just inches above the floor, not centered on the wall. And I was somehow moving (gliding) along the floor taking all this in. It was like I was lying on a wheeled stool and pushing it along with my feet and hands, though no actual stool was visible in the dream. So that childhood fascination with being close to the ground was probably part of the appeal.
I suppose if you are David Lynch and you have a really interesting dream, you make a movie out of it; but for the rest of us the frustration of great dreams is knowing that you can't return to them. At least I never have been able to.
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