Painted Hearse, Oakland CA. April, 2011. (click image to enlarge)
These past few days I’ve been too engrossed in work to make it out to stroll the neighborhood. So I’ve only shot as far as the curb in front of my place of employment on my way back and forth to my own car. But I think there’s plenty of photography to be done right there: churches, hearses, lowriders, chinese hamburger-stirfry-donut shops–you name it.
Ace Lincoln, El Cerrito, CA. © Neo Serafimidis
Procrastination. Mine knows no bounds. Sometimes it kicks in at the metalevel wherein I put off doing a task that I only began in order to avoid what I really ought to be doing in the first place. This could be a virtuous chain if I could bend it back around to the thing that started it off.
Tonight, I seem to avoiding finishing my taxes and doing the work I brought home on Friday, among numerous other things. And why would one bring work home unnecessarily unless there was something else waiting that one was avoiding at all costs. To be honest, I did manage to send off a couple emails, shuffle some papers, and by golly these photos are not going to process themselves, you know. So, I’m getting something accomplished. Maybe after this I’ll go bury the dead pet mouse stored in the freezer. Dang, why didn’t I think of that while it was still light out?
Lincoln Continental
One might suppose that on the day before I start a new job I would be focused on preparing myself. Such leisure would have been most welcome. Instead, it was a crazy day of non-stop errands too numerous to list here, but ending at midnight with the completion of the dessert item for the international potluck in Theo’s second grade class tomorrow. Somehow, I managed to get this shot of the Continental in between taking my mom back home and getting parts at the hardware store. So, all that running around was good for something after all.
Still from It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.
Having purchased the DVD in a bargain bin a few months ago, I managed to pass on to Theo another small part of my own childhood experience just last night: It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. I first saw it on TV when I was about 8yo. Unfortunately I never saw it in the theater, since this is shot in some crazy-wide Ultra Panavision.
I had not seen it since I was a child, which is to say, a long, long, long, long time. Consequently, this film held an exalted place in my idealized memory of childhood and of comedic film. In that sense, seeing it again after 40 years was ever-so-slightly disappointing, though I still enjoyed it a lot. (I would have enjoyed it more if we had a decent size flat screen. What we have is a small 30″ diagonal, and every once in a while, the size matters.) But more importantly, Theo enjoyed and managed to get through it despite it’s 2-and-half-hour-plus length. He even awoke this morning talking about it.
I’m still not sure who among this ridiculously huge and incredible cast steals the movie: Phil Silvers or Dick Shawn. Ok, or maybe Jonathan Winters. Or maybe it’s the automobiles! I was in awe of the array of vintage vehicles, from modest Dodge Darts to Chrysler Imperials, and most of them destroyed during the course of the film!
Still from It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.
Still from It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.
1969 Firebird
My first car was a ’69 Pontiac Firebird. It was black on black, in beautiful condition, exactly like the one pictured above. Being 16 years old, I basically thrashed it and sold it after a couple years for a mere $800. I think I paid about $1500, so I suppose that is not so bad. Just seeing the photo above made me queasy with nostalgia and regret. God I loved that car. I wish I still had it. For years, and I mean many years, I would periodically have dreams wherein I would suddenly find it somewhere, or remember that I had it somewhere, or otherwise be reunited with it in some totally illogical way, and be SO happy. Then, I would wake up and be SO disappointed.
Well, it looks like I could replace it for about $20,000. I suppose that’s not so bad either. If I had a garage for it, I might consider such a thing.
I’ll admit I’m also sentimental about Pontiac in general and can barely believe it really doesn’t exist anymore. There were a lot of Pontiacs in my youth. My childhood friends Richie and Debbie were a Pontiac family. Their mom drove a silver Bonneville and their dad drove a red ’67 Firebird. Eventually, my cousin Tommy bought the Firebird. By then it was a metallic root beer brown, kinda like the color of my Schwinn Varsity 10-speed bike. In high school my friend Mike had a silver ’76 Trans Am. Another friend had a GTO. The list goes and on. How Pontiac came to the point of building the Aztec (ugliest car ever) and then disappearing from the face of the earth is still beyond me. But so it goes…
Blue Rambler / © neo serafimidis 2011
I left work just a bit early today in the hope of getting to the computer repair shop across the street from UC Berkeley, Fix That Mac, to pick up my revived laptop with the new hard drive. It went quickly enough that I decided I would try to get to the lighting shop, Metro Lighting, and pickup two pendant lights we ordered for our kitchen. I was guessing that they closed at 5 pm, and it was now 4:48. I could make it if I didn’t dawdle. I was doing well enough until I passed this guy somewhere about Bancroft and Sacramento. I pulled over, jumped out, and took a few fast photos. This was my favorite, which has me relying on the same old formula I’ve been beating like a dead horse for a couple years now. I can’t help it. I try to do something else, but cars just beckon. Then I got back in my car and drove. Yes, I made it just in time.
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