A Living Magazine - Day 94 - A New Lens and the Shadow Man

I woke on another Spokane morning--colder than the one before. The frigid air on my face and head did a good job of talking me into staying a blue larva - snug as a bug - as long as I could, before unzipping the bag, putting on my boots and joining the sun-risen world.

I had yet-again run out of battery power on the camera. Batteries seemed to last a shorter and shorter amount of time. I had a couple dozen used ones in my pack, because they will still run low power items like my digital audio recorder. But the pile was getting out of hand, and now I had to buy even more!

I made my way down town, and went to my newly discovered hangout, The Park Plaza Mall; a mall with three floors, restaurants, clothes stores, restrooms... When I'd found it two days earlier--right where I'd been hanging out all month  (essentially between Main Street and Riverside), I practically slapped myself for not having explored it. The sushi place (a conveyor-style) that I'd photographed the outside of a few days before, was actually part of that mall!

It is amusing to relate that I'd searched for a Subway sandwich shop for a week; one that Google said was on Main Street. But I just couldn't find it. Turns out it was in this mall the whole time. I wanted to catch Bus 25 up Division to Wellesley, so I could get to Walmart and buy a bunch of batteries. The long distance was worth the travel, since they were half the price of RiteAid's batteries.

I went to the Transit Center and climbed aboard Bus 25. It was a 20 minute ride to Wellesley, where I walked to a stop further down that road to catch the Wellesley bus (33). But - of course - as I was about 50 feet from the stop, the bus went barreling by me. Shit! I rolled my eyes and then just decided to walk the rest of the distance to Wal-Mart. 

I found the battery display in the store and saw something new. It was a 20 pack of Rayovac AA's, which included four of their new "Fusion" alkaline batteries, for $8.00. How could I refuse? I snagged the pack, paid for it, and made it back to the bus stop in time to use my transfer pass to get back down town.

Once there, it was my intention to go straight to the library to download my pictures and take photos of Kevin's materials for yesterday's post (please see, "A Living Magazine - Day 93 - Who is Kevin?"). I had to take care of the morning's "business" by locating a restroom first.

Now, I'd been keeping the camera in its little gray case, on my belt, around my waist, day and night for the last two months. But it was a pain every time I had to use a bathroom, since it would slip off my belt. Also, as time went by, the case didn't lie flat against my body anymore, with its normally flat strap becoming a loose loop. Accordingly, two days before, I took off the camera case and attached it to an extra strap on my backpack. I told myself that this was a better arrangement, since bathroom visits were faster and didn't feel that constant flapping around on the belt. But it wasn't better.

I had been used to simply reaching down, unzipping and pulling it out (get your minds out of the gutter!). But with it on the backpack, I had to twist and contort myself every time I wanted to take out the camera. It had gone from being a irritation on the waist to big pain in the ass. So, like a friggin' idiot, I began keeping the camera (without its case) in my front pocket whenever I felt I'd be taking a lot of pictures at one time, which (duh!!) meant I had to take the damn thing out and put it on something in the toilet stall each time I used a restroom. No progress had been made, and I was about to learn my lesson.

On the third floor of the mall was the food court, with a restroom in the back. I rode the escalators up two flights, and found the men's room. Sure enough, I took the camera out of my pocket and placed it on the the toilet paper dispenser. I said to myself: "DO NOT forget that camera." Then, after I'd "powdered my nose" and washed my hands, I walked straight out of the room. 

Oblivious to my own oversight, I walked to the library. I was pleased with my battery purchase. It would last me more than a month. I ripped open the little door in the back of the battery package and slid out two AA's. Then reached for my camera in the front pockets of my pants. But before I even stuck my hand in, it hit me: YOU FORGOT THE CAMERA! Dumb shit!

I felt that little bead of sweat that forms whenever I become anxious, roll lightly down my forehead and into my eye. Then, like an octopus with Parkinson's Disease, my arms were flailing as they gathered items, zipped and unzipped backpack pockets, and half-pulled the pack onto my back. Practically running back to mall, up the escalators and through the food court - it had only been 20 minutes since I'd left there - I jogged into the restroom and found the stall occupied.

I paced back and forth a few times, and then tried to lightly knock on the door, saying "Hey...is there a camera in there?"

"I don't fucking know!!" came an angry voice from within.

"It would be right on the toilet paper rack?" 

He said nothing. I peered in beside him through the crack in the door and didn't see the camera.

I knew at that point it was gone for good. In only that short amount of time, my camera had been found and stolen. I went back to the library and vented on Facebook. Apparently, people were not bothered by me not being able to take pictures anymore--something I would never have guessed. They said the writing was interesting enough. I found this confusing since - until that point - 90% of the compliments about this journey's posts had been about the pictures. Honestly, I just can't really figure out what you guys like and don't like. So, I am going to do my best to not even concern myself with it anymore.

I checked the funds. It appeared that I would have enough money by the weekend to buy my train ticket to Minneapolis, Minnesota, and just enough for replacing the camera (assuming that money was indeed going to come in for the weekend). 

In a day of eye-rolling and sighs, I performed another one of each, realizing I'd have to go back to Wal-Mart to see if any cameras looked like they'd fit the bill. I had a small amount of money in my business savings set aside for a more professional camera and transferred it to my operating account. I would not be able to get my nice Sony (what I'd had my eye on), but it would be nice  to at least have a slightly better camera than the one I'd just lost.

I repeated the bus ride to the north of town, went to Wal-Mart and stalked the camera section. I stood there like stoned hippy at a buffet table, not knowing what would be best. After some time passed, and I'd examined each camera - ranging in price from $29.00 to $400.00 - I settled on a Fujifilm "Finepix AX". I really wanted a camera that I could charge the batteries on, but they were $20 over the one I chose, which - you guessed it! - took AA's.

I asked the floor rep how many days I had to return it, and she told me it was 15 days. It had all the features of the last camera (a Nikon "Coolpix"), but with a nice microphone, HD video, better zooming and some other features now available that weren't when the Nikon had come out. And...turned out, I was already fresh-full of AA batteries.

I left to catch the bus back into town, and fooled around with the camera as I waited...

My SD card and thumb drive case. Losing the SD card in my

stolen camera is probably what I will miss the most.

Where the bus stop is.

Stores way in the distance, coming in clear.

The bus arrived and I hopped on board, continuing to try different settings...

Here is a short demonstration of some of the movie making ability. The focus is excellent, definition is good, takes incredibly close macro shots (unlike the last camera), and has a nice audio track. The zoom feature cancels the sound whenever it is used (something I need to figure out how to disable if possible). All in all, it is a step forward in this wallk...

I got back to the park and took shots of all the Kevin documents and other scenes, then went to the library, processed the document images and published my post about him...

Old pipes and fallen trees in the park pond.

A bail wire on the sidewalk.

Soft, fuzzy ornamental grass tips.

The new addition to the family.

When my work was done, it was about two minutes before the library closed at 8:00 pm. I apologized again for my tardy departure and stepped out for the hike back to the creek. I tried several outdoor night shots on different settings, but kept getting blurry images, until I found the one that worked...

I walked back to the creek. Passing along the dirt path to the bridge column near my sleeping place, I heard a sound...human footsteps, off to my right. I stopped and put on my now-very scratched glasses to peer into the darkness. The stepping stopped. I saw the silhouette of a black-hooded sweatshirt wearing man, as he stood half in the shadows, silently between me and the lit-up creek bank behind him. He was about 100 feet away. 

For just a single moment, a shiver went up my spine. It is the same sensation that I feel when a large unidentified animal is close by. He just stood there, silently; a phantom. I was better hidden in the shadows of the path than he was in the leaking light of the bridge lamps far above us.

I wasn't interested in having company, nor being mugged. My experiences with the tarp, now--the stolen camera, the way those guys violated the Asian woman's (and my) campsite, the recent realization that the creek area was much more active than I'd first thought when I arrived in Spokane, and my intuition told me that it might be time for some physical defense.

I steeled myself for the possibility. I felt strong and confident. I looked down to see that my right hand had already automatically performed the action I'd practiced so many times in the last year--the drawing of my knife from the side pocket of my pants. I was definitely ready. I get hyped up, hopped up on adrenaline at times like this, and actually enter a mental state where I actually WANT to fight; if just to end the suspense. The shivers then flowed throughout my body, and my mind became exceedingly clear, like I'd suddenly put some kind of glasses on, inside my head.

He tipped to one side slightly, and then the other. If I kept walking, he could follow me to my sleep site. If I just stood there, he could run at me. But I knew I had the advantage. I was on slightly higher ground, I was covered in shadows and wearing very dark clothes. I perceived he couldn't see me, but still knew I was there. I reasoned that if he did not want a confrontation he would move off in another direction. But, he didn't move. That was the unsettling part. I should have felt fear, but I didn't. I soon grew tired of this unexpressed stand-off. I wasn't going to be the chum who let his time be ruled/wasted by a stranger. It was time to end this, so I could get some sleep.

I was going to find out (and/or deal with) what he wanted. I gripped the knife tightly, wrapping the chain around my little finger so that even if I let go, the knife would remain in my hand. And then I simply began walking slowly at first toward him, then accelerated to a faster pace. Still, he didn't move...

When I was about halfway there, the wind blew up, uncharacteristically. I stepped around a stump in my path, not taking my eyes off him, except for less than a second. When I looked up again, the path was completely clear. He was gone. I made a full stop and simply listened. 

My senses have become intensely acute. My ability to detect edges and movement (even in my peripheral vision) - night or day - is unconsciously available and quite accurate now. My hearing has been highly developed for decades, due to thousands of hours recording. I am savant-like at determining distances, judging the amount things, the turning of the weather. I can gauge who or what is around me, simply by smelling the air. But on this night, I was at a loss to account for where this guy had gone. There was NO SOUND at all, except for the traffic above, including a train on its way to the railway bridge. Nothing.

I was high on anticipation; ready "to go". But, like the frustration of being interrupted during sex, I had this store of energy and anticipation for which had no vent. So, I found myself actually going from path to path, looking for the shadow man. I guess I wanted to appear aggressive. I knew for sure that he could see me. I felt it. If he had run away I would have heard something. Again, there was nothing--no sight, sound, smell that could lead me to him.

As the blood pressure began to fall again, and the sensations flowing through me subsided, I began to simply feel foolish--overreacting. I gave up my search and returned back to the path, continuing on to Sleeping Place 2.

Being keyed-up, it took a couple  hours to feel comfortable and tired enough to sleep. But the sleeping bag eventually came out, and I slipped into the warm brown soup of unconscious sleep.