It was a rainy week along Alameda Creek
I like rain but it does not really happen in Fremont, mostly overcast skies, short snippets of downpours mixed with light drizzles, and if I am lucky sometimes the road even smells like rain. It can make me nostalgic for Massachusetts, but not enough to want to live in the cold again.
I walk along the Alameda Creek almost everyday, four miles, 12 years ago I did it in 52 minutes, now at 74 years its over an hour if I do it it straight, however over the years I have met so many people that I usually meet someone and stop to talk. This gentleman lives on the other side of the creek in a drainage area, from which during the rain water flows.
He has bedding adn other stuff there.
I wondered how he would do during the rain, last week his bedding washed down the the creek but I noticed he was back again yesterday.
I was in San Francisco last week, a lover’s discussion, her restaurant, her boyfriend, his pleading and promising could be heard, they went inside, she gave him some cash from the register and he left. She resumed working.
Conversation in Chicago, fall, 1969, SDS Days of Rage,
When I was a kid I used to follow Pogo and Out Our Way. As an adult I read For Better or Worse until they started reruns. Presently I read Luann, this is one of my favorites, it is an interesting reflection on how any of us really know how what we do today affects the future, human hubris and True Believers comes to mind and thank God for people who can laugh at themselves.
There will always be problems, people will always have solutions and tomorrow there’ll be more problems; how many were caused by yesterday’s solutions. On the other hand its human to hope that things can get better.
Life kneads too be more than a cardboard cutout.
Would you cut off your arm for something you cannot show me?
Would you mistake a sleeping Buddha for me?
If I met Buddha on the road could I kill him?
I would prefer something simpler which made sense of the moment instead of a solution aimed at tomorrow, who nos, there may not be a tomorrow, maybe there was never really a yesterday.
But inspite of my efforts my camera remains unconnected to me, leading me on, fooling me, never showing me as I want to see, heartlessly blinding me to my ignorance,
driving me to seek refuge in MissConfusion.
Won day my camera forced me to stop and reflect on myself . . .noing but not understanding that this day come . . .
Could I really trust this celph,
and may this May meeting end with a new beginning,
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