photo season


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nuthin' but th' noos
hoarse of a diffr'nt cullah



road trip!
berkeley studies


   one of the pleasures of the bay area is berkeley, california, that living time capsule of the 1960s. i’m especially fond of the telegraph road street vendors, who sell their visual art, handmade jewelry, tie-dye clothing, and socially conscious bumper stickers on weekends whenever the weather is not too damp for shoppers.
   last year we found this guy who’s living comes from reselling pentel 0.5 mm mechanical pencils, with wooden tubes turned out on his lathe.
my pencil
   so when daver said he wanted to research at the ucb campus, i suggested that he needed a chauffer with a fast car like mine.
   well, that was last weekend. we didn't make it up to berkeley until today. uh, it was raining. yeah. that’s it.
ticket guy    the parking situation was silly. all the garages appeared to have flat rates of $25. we figured there was an event of some kind.
   at first i thought the guy on the left here was homeless, but his sign said he wanted tickets, not a handout. a-ha—home game!
   daver and i pooled our parking karma and found a space on the street a block from campus. the meter had a one-hour limit, but it gave twenty minutes for only a quarter.
   daver scuttled off to do daver things in the library. i blinked at my freedom and walked slowly towards telegraph, relishing the thought of doing the street fair without dancing to the rhythms of others.
   the first vendor i saw was still setting up her wares. what would a trip to berkeley be without tie-dye?
   turns out that even at eleven am, most of the vendors weren’t yet arrived. i decided to visit some shops that i had enjoyed in previous years.
tie dye stall
hallway with skylight      i walked down the mall hall with skylights i always remember. a bleeding-heart liberal bookstore ambushed me, jumping out from where none had ever been before.
   between shelves of pamphlets and poetry, i reminisced about my feminist literature classes, and learned a bit more about mumia abu-jamal, that fellow who’s been on death row in pennsylvania since his encounter with a hanging judge back in 1979.
   the ambush proved successful. my first purchases of the day were cherie moraga’s this bridge called my back, which i’ve wanted for quite a while; a book of african names with translations; and a pin that says “bad cop, no donut!” for my friend jonahue, the laughing policeman.
   i arrived back at the meter—ha!—with seventeen minutes to spare. while dropping the books in the trunk, i had to wave off a circling member of the parking frenzy. then i noticed woah! telegraph road was finally open for business.
   it was time to resist the pressures of handcrafts available nowhere else!
berkeley street scene    i fondled smooth leather wallets. i wished i had a use for hand stitched books with textured linen paper, bound in ostrich-skin. i sniffed scented refills of the stained glass candle holders. and, of course, i smiled at the ever-prevalent tiny-bowled pipes with replacable brass screens.

   it appears that when i shop while wearing my black leather jacket, i have the visage of a smoker. twice i was accosted by roguish looking fellows, who wanted nothing more than a cigarette. perhaps i’ll bring a pack next time.
   after the second person mistook me for a cigarette machine, i discovered it was time to feed the meter again, so i trundled back towards my car.
   there was a surprise for me under my windshield wiper. fiends, i thought. no donut!
   fortunately it was merely an advert flier for another one of those 10-10-xxx long distance companies. i don't recall the numbers, but i do remember the bulldog logo, so i know which one never to use, no matter what.
   i was a good boy and immediately placed the ad in a garbage receptacle.
   this is when i heard the drummers thumping, so i headed towards the rhythm.
   ucb has this huge paved commons area in which people congregate to do all sorts of things.
hacki sack guy
   in addition to the hacky sacker, i watched a troupe of kids doing strange moves in unison. they were obviously all on the same team, but i never figured out what their gig was.
kids with feet    first they stuck their right feet forward.
kids extending feet    then they stuck their right feet way forward. that guy in the middle in the navy shirt fell over.
   the kids just stood around after this, so i turned my attention elsewhere. perhaps they needed to rest before trying the left foot. watching people act silly is only so entertaining.
   i moved on to the real attraction of the commons. da drums.
   usually when i visit the ucb campus on the weekends i can count on hearing a jam session. sometimes i see a full kit; sometimes there are just a few bongos. today i saw four drummer-dudes and a kid with an accordian set up.
   these guys were having a good time. the serious fellow at the two conga drums in the middle actually he smiled and nodded when i held out my camera for permission. that’s when they got all solemn, looking off to the side after i started snapping shots.
   all but one. i tried to get a picture of the child playing the accordian, but she ducked, and laughed whenever i aimed my camera at her!
   the beat echoed off the buildings around us. the driving tempo never ended completely, they never all stopped playing at once. they wove their beats amongst each other, pervasive and compelling, so that even father time might stop to listen, twitch, and start tapping his foot before moving forward on his business.
jammin drummers
   i stayed on campus longer than i shopped telegraph road.
   daver eventually finished his research. he was happy with his photocopies, and i with my day on the streets. victory conditions!
light at the end of the tunnel

legacy gallery
thank’s to amy’s scanner!



Ann and Alexa Jane
this is my sister ann,
with my niece alexa jane.
they live in evanston, illinois.

i get to meet alexa
later this month,
for the first time ever.
woo! woo!
mark and deb in 1995 this 1995 photograph looks to me like museum curators, just after lieutenant columbo announced that he didn’t understand a clue they had never thought to conceal.
photo credit:
don henderson.
mark and deb in 1998 here are those museum curators
in the summer of 1998.
i think nancy preston
took this photo.

a new toy
mark’s camera clogs your bandwidth


deb glasses   this lady in purple hangs out with me all the time, even though she’s my ex-girlfriend. i think should buy her flowers more often.
cunning john   this mysterious stranger keeps visiting us. he comes and goes like the wind, never staying long, but always leaving with memories of fun and games. he didn’t at all mind me playing with the camera while he was visiting.

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