I'm tired. Pinky swear - I'm going to try to keep this short. The other day I walked to Pike Place Market, and I wasn't in a great mood. My bad mood mojo must have been strong because it overpowered that amazing place. I keep saying I'm probably moving soon(ish), so I wanted to make sure I replaced the meh with an awwww yea.
Back up. I finally made it to 2018 in the Lightroom catalog. If you haven't got a Lightroom photo catalog, you're blissfully unaware of that dreaded feeling of an unorganized archive. My catalog is far from organized (doesn't apply to paid work that I send out), but I am confident that I have my 2016-2018 music keepers in a folder now. A long way to go yet, but a journey of a thousand miles and all.
I needed food. While I was going through the photos I saw some scans from Syria. I had shwarma on the brain. I'm a once in a blue moon meat eater. Today was a blue moon. I walked to Mamnoun, ordered a chicken shwarma, found a quiet spot at the convention center, and inhaled one chicken shwarma. For a brief won't admit how long few moments, all was right with the world.
Sort of. Stomach growling, I paused patiently to let a photographer get a shot. I could only see the legs and boots of his subject. Seemed like it took forever. Grumble grumble. He finally got the shot, stood up, saw me, and wandered off. His subject wasn't a collaborative subject. There was a young man propped up against the wall sleeping. It looked like he might have fallen asleep while eating. I was a little annoyed. It seemed invasive. I wandered off wondering if I would have done the same thing. I don't think so. It's outside my Golden Rule of Photography (not Photojournalism or some Documentary Photography) - would you want someone taking a photo of you in this situation? But as you can see, I've left myself a couple of outs. How convenient.
I know what you're thinking, and you're right. I wandered off thinking about a philosophical issue without first wondering if that young man, sitting in the sun, was ok. I just assumed he was. I regret not checking. COVID has elevated my social distancing to Olympian levels. Not good.
I headed to Pike Place Market. It was absolutely bustling on a beautiful Saturday. The mehs were vanquished, replaced by annoyance. I'm questioning whether annoyance is a word.
There's the main intersection at Pike Place Market. Starbucks, The Showbox, and the iconic Pike Place Market sign. It's a great place for proselytizers and protesters. Today there were two men bullhorning the need to repent and refrain from demonic speech on one corner. Across from them were the sign-wielding, maskless "COVID is an agenda" folks. I got out of there pretty quickly.
I was happy to see the market so busy, especially since almost everyone was masked, and the market is mainly open air. I had my camera, but nothing jumped out at me. My street photography game is non-existent.
I walked down to Pioneer Square and had a look around. I love Pioneer Square, and there are times I wish I'd lived there for a year. The fear of the Cascadia Subduction Zone quake always scared me off. It's also a little rough and tumble after dark.
I thought about walking home through the International District. I've been bummed out about reports of increasing violence against Asian Americans, so I thought I could spend some money there and pretend I was changing the world. I decided I should wait and make a half day out of it...with dumplings.
I walked back to Pike Place Market, turned right, and headed to the Hill. The megaphone Jesus duo serenaded me from across the street the whole way as they headed to Cal Anderson. Must not utter demonic things.
Home. I wanted to print a bunch of photos for the Corvus crew. Cue the Frustration Dance. When I move I'm pulling the plug on the print at home experiment. Death, Taxes, and Printers Suck. I did finally manage to get some printed, and the prints looked good, but it's not worth the frustration and problem-solving.
Still here? About that title. I don't usually suffer too badly from allergies, but man, today sucked. It must have been a big pollen day. By the time I got home my eyes were on fire.