Flew Away

Awake until past dawn, sleeping past noon, did not go to church. When I arose, the news on the Internet was of the shooting in Texas. Unreal. Rarely do I turn on the television and I don't have cable or satellite. Wanted to see what was happening there. As I scrolled through the channels, nothing but commercials. No news. Did another round. All unreal. No news. Stopping to watch a moment of the Cardinal football game, a player was lying contorted on the field. Noted the time and score. Turned it off. I could only think, what is real?

The hummingbird was. A moment of excitement. I remember exactly. As I put the camera down to readjust the settings, it flew away. It was real. The memory is real. The electric  charges in the operating system memory are real. I think of this... not real. To be close to someone, dancing. Not real. But a compensation for not getting a close-up of the hummer. Had to crop it to make this. It's real, if not a very good image.

I don't know the hummingbird's species or common name. I remember Linnean nomenclature. That is real. But I've forgotten it all. LOL I can't get past Animalia, Chordata, Aves. There's where the compensation comes in again. Someone else to laugh with, to look it up, to find out. It doesn't matter.

It mattered, finding out about this shooting. In a Baptist church. What will they make of it? What is real? Is the world the domain of Satan? Someone to be with, to hold through it all until time to pass away. Something like the Mormons; sealed. Somewhat amusing that. They have secret names, spouses. When they get to their own little world to lord it over, they call each other by those monikers. Whatever. Through thick and thin, we'll get through this. We have each other. Not real. All in my head.

So I processed the bird. Sounds funny; like fricasseen'! I think this was the watercolor mode. Had to get out of the house. To coffee at 35th and Bethany. The area is becoming a slum. That is real. The environment is not. All man-made. I took a shot at the intersection, of the traffic lights and signage. Real enough. Regulation, observation, telemetry, coordination. The people, strangers. Unknown, can they be real. They're really there, but not real, really human. Animals being regulated... etc., I feel only estrangement. 

Sitting down to do the procedures, it's all really here, but again, everything man-made, everyone traversing through being regulated... etc. I cannot find the correct USB cable to transfer the camera shots! That's real. Can't recall where I put it. I always put it right back in my valice after using it. Not in the truck. Did I put it in my pocket yesterday? Did my laundry, ugh-oh. It'll turn up. That's real. Inconveniences. Absent-mindedness. Are there too many imaginary thoughts in my head such that I lose real focus? I think so. I'm schizophrenic for being scolded for it, for being different, no one to hold me, see me through. Not real. You hear, "He's self-involved." from people who will not involve themselves, who haven't a care to see things any other way than from their own perspective. That's real.

I think this rather an acrylic-like presentation. I painted pictures along about 1975. A lark. Had a friend from Samoa who was a very good painter and another I worked with who was not. Yes, I did still life. Go and gather wildflowers from the roadsides. Yes, I did acrylics. Just up and did it... Joe, the Samoan gave me quite a few tips. All left behind in Oregon.

Had a strictly academic education. I love art. One of my escapades when a teenager was to go to the Museum of Modern Art often. There was a $5 student membership and I got it primarily to go to the theater there where they showed classic movies, silent and talkies. Sort of like what AMC does on cable and way before VCR or streaming. Took in the collection as an aside. Sometimes I'd sketch things. No training whatsoever. And no encouragement nor interest from so-called significant others. Poor me.

This is the photo vivafied, as it declares in the app. Vive le moment.

Getting online and watching the coverage, I'm as briefed as anyone. I recall that North Phoenix Baptist Church has uniformed and armed security; County deputies are hired. As a matter of fact, once, going in with my valice 15 years ago, it was searched, so these sorts of things have been forseen. Fanatical people - you never know. Unreal. But real enough for all the families of the deceased.

Finishing this post, I really need to engage in reality hereabouts, but it's strange. And there's nothing very engaging. Alienating to an extent. Sometimes, virtuality is very much more so. Currently reading a book about the Constitutional Convention of 1789 in Philadelphia, I feel somewhat competent, along with previously garnered scholarship, to write things up there too with regard to Constitutional issues presented by news stories. It's mostly a writing exercise, you might say. Real enough, but there is never any engagement. Ironically, presently at coffee place surrounded by Mexicans babbling away in Spanish, who cares? There are very few Americans, I mean long-time natives, in my life. They're all strangers, chasing the buck.

And, hey... it takes some skill to format all this! That's real.