April 19, 2013

Friday

We walk above Japantown, the pedestrian bridge and Poppy is scared, but just a little. The traffic stops beneath us and she watches. We meet a girl, a young black girl who likes Poppy and asks her name while she pets her. I tell her, "Poppy" and she thinks for a moment.
"I had a friend named Poppy!"
"That's an unusual name!"
"Yeah, she was the only person I've ever known to have that name."
I like to notice lines and shapes while I walk, while I concentrate on my feet, my arches, my gait. I tell myself to land mid-foot, not with a heel strike. So I find myself staring at the ground while I concentrate and I like to see the shapes that nature fits into man-made containers.

March 23, 2013

Saturday

It is Saturday, which means sleeping until I am no longer tired, if the dog will let me. I haven't been sleeping well. We take Poppy to the Ocean Beach and I photograph her catching the frisbee, which flies high and wild in the wind. She is an amazing athlete and I capture several images of her flying through the air in nearly unfathomable ways. The rest of my Saturday is a blur, spent in an obsessive state, trying to track down information about a long-lost family member, who holds the key to our past. That's how I like to think about it and I think that is how a lot of people in my family think about it too.