BLURRY BIRD

Today I will hang my photo exhibit at the bike shop. Yesterday, I rode the Bay Trail to the San Mateo Bridge. A jack rabbit hopped across my path. Ground squirrels scurried back and forth across dirt, gravel and asphalt. Many birds flew overhead and sat beside. I rode not knowing where the path would end. I turned around when I met the highway.

    Dry

   Serene

   Narrow Shoulder

   Rusted Barrier

   Blurry Bird

   Water Box

   Path

   Marsh Flight

 

   Wooden Bridge

   Bird Party

   No Hunting

   To the Bridge

   Parallel

   Lost Signs

NOTHING TO DO WITH BIKES

Today was a work day. I did not ride a bike. 

On my lunch break, I wandered around somewhat aimlessly, as I typically do. I had decided it was time to get back to the office and started walking down the hill. Leaning on a pole, on a well known San Francisco street, I spotted a man wearing an interesting suit coat. At first glance, it wasn't altogether different from those often seen in the Financial District. A simple transition of alternate pattern made the jacket stand out. As I passed, I took another glance back.

There was no mistaking; it was John Waters! After a quick holy crap, I decided I could not immediately continue down the hill to my desk job. I turned back. I walked up to Mr. Waters, offered my right hand and said, "Hello. My name is Tina. You are John, right?" With a soft smile he said yes. I had heard of his recent hitchhiking adventures and told him I had seen a bit about his trip online. He said San Francisco was the last stop on his journey and he had been here for a few days. I asked if he had a good time. He had, except for some of the extended periods of waiting, sometimes for up to nine hours. He felt it would make for good material for his writing. I inquired about when he imagined the book would come out, and he said it would be in about a year. 

At a certain point, I decided I should leave him to his day. I asked "Would it be alright if I took your picture? Unless, you are tired of having your picture taken?" Stating how the trolley had not yet come, he graciously accepted my starstruck request. I took a picture with my phone. I offered my right hand again, said thank you and told him to enjoy his trip. It was a damn good lunch break. Thank you Mr. Waters. 

RED TRUCK SURFER

Rather than do the framing I need to do, I went for a ride. It was amazing out, but very windy. Along the way, I dropped off some show postcards at various San Francisco bike shops. While there, I looked at leather saddles. It might be time to upgrade from glitter, even though the sparkles make me smile. 

The Golden Gate Bridge is 75 on May 27th, and I decided to pay it a visit. It is an icon of a city I love. Once there, as I was taking photos, a surfer ran past me, eager to catch the early evening waves. He danced in the ocean with grace and ease that seemed like old habit.

 

   Giant Value

   Lancer

   Dirt Fence

   Floating Heavily

   Obstructed View

   Red Truck

   Surfer

   Late Afternoon Trees

   City View

KNEEING DIVERSION - THREE

My photos sit on the dining table waiting to be framed. I sit on the couch, thinking about words, as my knee pushes me outside. The words I have posted here have been minimal, to surround or highlight the photos I have gathered. They have rarely stood alone. As I look back over my post titles, they read like band names, odd shops, book titles or definitive statements from a forgotten text. I might need to explore that more and see what unfolds. I use images to tell stories, to find my way. Maybe I have been taking words for granted.

For now, I wonder....

Who drives the Zippy Onion Truck? 

What is being wrenched at the Good Grief Body Shop?

Where can I pick up the handbook of Trash Can Wisdom?

Which exit on the I-5 is Bingo Barber Shop? 

Does Flap Jack Ocean taste like maple syrup? 

What is for lunch at Pepi Delmon's Dining Room? 

Are Muck and Beautiful Barb dancing? 

Do Cheeto and the Who Bears need a drummer? 

What killed the Poison Tired Two? 

Do the Running Rail Birds tag the trains by starlight? 

Do truckers dare sleep at Rest Stop Danger Flower?  

Is Sweet Potato Joe enjoying his slice of pie? 

Are there snakes and raptors in the Rat Saddle Redwoods? 

Who mends the Dirt Flags of October?

Are creatures less fearful when you are wearing your Wilderness Shoe?

What happens when Faint Blue Dust is wiped away? 

Who will sing the Sky Leap Remnant Song underneath the Insomnia Moon?

SHADOW LIMBS

It was a fairly quiet week filled with work, lots of photo editing, and not a lot of riding. Today I pedaled around delivering exhibit postcards in the east bay. I took very few photos.

On one of my regular workdays, I was on my lunch break in San Francisco. I stepped into a Chinatown bakery to take a look at the sweets. I decided against getting anything just then and turned to walk out. Someone grabbed my arm and asked for money. I gave a halfhearted no. He grabbed my arm again and asked for something to eat. I said ok and asked what he wanted. He pointed to the custard tarts and I agreed. As I waited to pay, he asked for two. I said ok and he told me how this bakery was not the best in the area. There was a better one just up the hill. As I handed him the paper bag, he asked if I was a Virgo. I asked how he could tell, and he said he just knew things. He referred to himself as a fish. (I do read my horoscope now and then, not really knowing why.) He smiled at me, with just one tooth. I told him to have a nice day and walked on, wondering what else he knew.

This anecdote of an office worker's lunch has nothing to do with riding a bike, but somehow it stuck with me.

    Limbs

 
    Shadow

SAVE THE DATE

CRUSTY MUD

Since I am getting ready for a June exhibit, my Friday was mostly consumed with sifting through my photos. It is kind of fun to look back over the past two years to see how many images I have actually taken. As certain places are increasingly familiar, when I pedal, I move through my own scrapbook. But nothing is touched; nothing is taken. My mood is not always unencumbered, but I ride nonetheless. That has become a constant - long ride, short ride, happy, sad, carefree or curmudgeonly. I am only now seeing how much I have gained in the process.

     Crusty Mud

     Poppy Pod