December 21st, 2002

caillebotte_man at his window

Gone Crazy, Finally.

The pictures from my photo CDs are all installed on my hard drive. It took much of the night to do it. They all had to be given names and placed in the proper folders, and all that anal retentive stuff. And, I miscounted earlier. There were six of them, not five. Let's see, 6x24, that's one gross of pictures! Some of them aren't too bad. In fact, autumn turned out considerably better than summer. There are a couple that I'll probably end up using as desktop wallpaper.

However, one odd thing did happen. Among the 144 pictures, there is one I can't identify. Now, I am sufficiently well-organized that I keep a list of every frame I shoot. This is so that when I shoot a generic scene of a tree or some such thing, without any recognizable landmarks in the frame, I'll know which tree it was and where it was located. But the space on the list were the unidentifiable picture ought to be listed is blank. If the picture were one of those generic scenes, I wouldn't be worried about it. But it is a picture containing what should be a recognizable place, and I don't recognize it!

The picture happens to be one of those which is rather blurry, which doesn't help. Still, I can see that it is a street, lined with the usual local ponderosas, and it ends in a "T" intersection. The cross street, where it goes to the right, has some iron fencing or gates. On the left corner of the intersection is an old fashion street lamp. I have no idea where this place is, and no recollection of seeing it before. The frames on either side of this one are of quite recognizable locations near my house. I have no idea where I could have gone to take that middle picture, or of how I might have gotten to wherever that place is.

The only explanation I can think of is that I have developed multiple personality syndrome. Another personality took over for a while, went somewhere, took a picture, came back, and I resumed my walk without realizing what had happened. Now, this one picture is the only one I have which I do not recognize, so it is likely that this second personality has never taken another picture, if, indeed, it has ever taken over my mind when I had the camera with me. Why it chose to take a picture this time, I can't say. Perhaps it is trying to re-integrate with me, and used this as a method of communicating its existence to me. But, so far, all I know of it is that it has a fairly good eye for composition, but doesn't know the quirks of this camera, else it wouldn't have gotten such a blurry picture.

I doubt that my other personality is anything strange or dangerous, such as a serial killer or a flasher. This is a small community, and I'd have heard about anything such as that, if was going on. I am not in possession of any objects for which I cannot account, (other than this photograph, of course), so my other self is probably not a burglar or shoplifter. I must admit, though, that I'm rather hoping that he (or she) has a bank account. I could use some extra cash. I will also admit that I'm just a bit worried that my other personality might be getting laid. This is not out of jealousy, mind you, (I swear!), but simply the fear that it might be getting laid by someone of whom I would disapprove. I mean, one never knows, does one?

Lately, it has seemed to me that I haven't enough time to finish my various tasks. The existence of another personality, or even several more, would account for this. It might also account for the fact that my metered Internet time seems to be running low earlier in the month than it used to, even though I'm making every effort to conserve it as much as possible. Thus, the thought occurs to me that this other personality may have another LiveJournal. I'm not sure that this personality would have a writing style similar to my own, or that it would post similar content. However, I'll be keeping an eye out, just in case.

Of course, I've also considered the possibility that this picture was created by Sluggo, as part of his ongoing attempt to drive me mad. To make sure that this is not the case, I checked the negatives from the roll of film, which he could not possibly have tampered with. The negative of the unidentifiable picture exists, so Sluggo is off the hook. If I used a digital camera, I couldn't be sure, but there is no way Sluggo could have created that negative. So, multiple personality syndrome remains the most likely explanation. Either that, or I just forgot that I took the picture, and the place where it was taken. In that case, hello Alzheimer's, goodbye, mysterious other self. That would be too bad. I'm rather looking forward to being Sybil. But I do wish that my other personality had the good sense to make us both get more sleep!
caillebotte_man at his window


I didn't notice at the time, but my previous entry was number 1,111. This is a much more interesting number than 1000. These big, round multiples of ten have a dull, prudish metric quality about them. Multiples of eleven have energy and flair. I'm looking forward to my 1320th entry. That's an interesting number, too. It is evenly divisible by ten of the first twelve integers-- all but seven and nine, for those counting. It is also the number of feet in a quarter mile. (The English system of measurement has a grace and subtlety often unappreciated by the crude modern mind.) If a journal is a sort of journey, then it seems appropriate to note the distance traveled in the same measurement as would be that of a physical journey. So, I will no longer pay attention to those metric multiples, and count instead the rods and chains and furlongs and miles of this journal. When I reach 15,840 entries (evenly divisible by 11 of the first twelve integers), it will be a league of writing.


The persistent rain has washed away every trace of snow, even in the undergrowth of the forest. This afternoon, though the sky remained heavy with clouds, the rain ceased, and I went for a walk through the grey evening. Twilight seems to begin shortly after noon on days such as this, when the clouds are so thick that the position of the sun cannot be discerned from any bright spot among them. In fact, the brightest patch of clouds appeared in the east, hovering over the mountains, until very near sunset when, at last, a bright, horizontal line of gold emerged above the trees in the southwest. When I returned home, there were two acorn woodpeckers on the utility pole in front of my house. Their bright red crests looked quite festive against the deepening grey sky. After sunset, the clouds began to thin above, and a few stars appeared. Through the trees to the west, I could glimpse a few clouds which lingered with pale noctilucece. The clearing sky presages a cold night. The small drops of water which hang like miniature ornaments from the tips of bush leaves may freeze. If the clouds remain at bay, perhaps I will see those drops glitter with reflected light when the waning moon rises above the pines.