Black crowned night heron © Robert Sommers 2023

Sunday, February 21, 2016


If you hadn't noticed, my literary production is way down over here at the blast. I have been on a rigorous schedule, just came back from yet another trip to Palm Springs. Steve and I were lucky and fortunate enough to buy some things from a nice estate.

This has required my seeking out additional storage space and spending all week sifting and cataloguing. I am fried and exhausted. And Hillsborough is coming right up.

In any case it has been rather nice not to have to blather about the political scene, Scalia, Trump, the Bern etc. I hate being reactive and I think posting a pretty photograph or two is so much easier on the blood pressure!

Plenty of tongues wagging already, you certainly don't need my help sorting it all out.

Now in its ninth year, or it will be March third anyway, you know how it works; I try to shut up as long as I can but all this hydrostatic pressure builds inside the dam and one day it just blows.

Coming soon.

I bought a new Epson SC P-800 printer after the 3800 died. Printed up my portraits and sent them off to the framer. Hope that you will join me at the Fallbrook Library on March 11 for the reception of the annual Fallbrook Shutters show. I am quite happy with the work.

Met a decorator in Palm Springs who said that her practice is centered on the seventies. Oh god, I bit my lip. Frankly the seventies forward is a big, dead aesthetic blur for me. She bought the hideous brass owl I had dissed in this forum so badly from Steve.

We got punk in the seventies but we also got sheit like Toto, Asia, Foreigner, cork ceilings, white shag, cocaine, herpes, running injuries and a host of other ills. The abysmal Martha Davis and the Motels, or was that the eighties? Talking Heads were good, maybe glasnost, not much else...

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