I am not a fan of Facebook. I have an account, I think, but I find it intrusive to a degree that irritates me, and yet it is also a space that doesn't allow for reflection or extended thoughts.others disagree with me, billions of people actually like Facebook.
I tried Instagram too until I discovered it was overrun by Facebook and he they wanted to make money off the pictures submitted to the service. That got my allergies running rampant so I dumped Instagram.
I like my own page on the Web, my place to despoil my pictures, my ruminations and my memories. It is not an easy thing for people to maintain a web page it seems, a arrangement that I find relaxing and thus self perpetuating. Love Lane Jack used to keep a rhyming blog, a page unique among the unique, a thing of particular interest, a mish mash of pictures and politics and blasphemy all mixed in with insight and humor. above Solaris Hill .
The page is gone, left for dead on the electronic battlefield of ideas and in its place Jack has forged ahead on the dreaded Facebook. Whatever works I am sad to say, but I miss the ribald irreverent thought provoking poetry on the new page. (2) Love Lane Jack
Life goes on and so does my eleven year old Labrador.
I thought of the following picture as a study in white, the peculiar lengthened Conch cottage, added on as money and desire allowed. Not exactly McMansions!
A vast spacious empty lot, devoid of parked cars except the elderly and still bright scarlet Alfa Romeo Spyder.
The idea of one human family gets a tad bit frayed around the edges from time to time but I did like humor the sticker posted over a defaced No Trespassing sign.
This cheerful dumpster sits in Fausto's paking lot, to cheer up grocery customers. Faustos Key West | Home
This sign caused me to chuckle. Oops! Scaring off the customers won't work!
My sense of humor causes me to enjoy irony even in death, that most fearsome affliction of even the faithful. Death comes to us all but Trespassing on it is frowned upon at Key West's largest funeral home. From time to time of course I have to call out the on duty undertaker when police officers come across a body. No matter how ungodly the hour the voice answering the undertaker's phone is always a voice of a man wide awake, calm, and ready to help. I have great admiration for undertakers, they deal with people in terrible shape and they do it superbly.
The Federal Building on Simonton Street is lovely in its limestone magnificence and then your eyes are drawn to the ghastly security measures that demean the beauty and solidity, as though this were a fortified foreign legation not a customs and court house dispensing the Law.
This lovely grassy knoll is a few blocks from the Federal Building. In point of fact it is across Lazy Way Lane from Schooner Wharf Bar.
The former model home for the proposed development by a group of failed local investors has been torn down to make ready for a new hotel. Oh well, the open space will be nice as long as it lasts.
I frequently come across dog walkers who fear an encounter with my happy Labrador. Dogs are the gods of frolic but so few of their owners know it. En garde!
Gecko, anole, or miniature iguana. You decide.
An elderly Cuban dude rolled up on a bicycle while my dog was rooting around in his bicycle parking spot and I was busy taking a picture of yet another pair of abandoned shoes. Where do they all come from, I ask myself?
The Cuban dude smiled as I reeled in my errant dog. At first I thought he was, as everyone is, afraid of my hound. Instead he kept smiling at her happy face, parked his bike and sloped off into his house. Cheyenne and I went back to Love Lane to find the car.