July 2, 2009

At the Golden Reflection Café...

Pavilion reflection

... your thoughts are mere fluff sitting lightly on water.

24 comments:

EDH said...

I said emotional content, not anger. Now try again. With me...

Don't think, feel.

It's like a finger pointing a way to the moon. Don't concentrate on the finger or you will miss all that heavenly glory.

Do you understand?

peter hoh said...

A man in shorts.

Any ladies in Seattle looking for a little summer fun?

Jason (the commenter) said...

It reminds me of The Temple of the Golden Pavilion. I wonder how flammable it is.

TitusItsRainingAgainToday said...

What happened to Palladian? I miss the crotchety queen.

Jason, my favorite movie is also All About My Mother. I actually got a huge poster from the movie and blew it up and framed it, It covers almost1/2 off one of my walls.

Hugs.

TitusItsRainingAgainToday said...

I also love Talk To Her.

I love the women in Almodovar's movies.

TitusItsRainingAgainToday said...

1/2 of not 1/2 off.

ricpic said...

A pagoda in the water
Makes me think of Enos Slaughter.*







*This poem has no redeeming social value or sense value for that matter.

ricpic said...

Fess up, Titus, you love your hog; all others come in a distant second.

TitusItsRainingAgainToday said...

I do love my hog.

Don't you?

How would you feel if you didn't have your hog and you couldn't use it?

Ron said...

My blog would contest the notion that fluff is "mere"...

ricpic said...

A point well taken, Titus.

Rob said...

Reflections In A Golden Eye

Penny said...

Great link, EDH! Particularly after Althouse's "Thoughts are mere fluff".

My womanly intuition is telling me to keep an eye on you two. Don't need no swat upside my head when I can see the moon in my mind's eye. ;)

Penny said...

Of course I can also see Titus's hog in my mind's eye.

Please don't tell me that I am alone in my feeling? I could barely stand the thought of that.

ricpic said...

Every night Penny's mind gets stranger, and still stranger, and yet more strange. Suspiciously progressive if you ask me.

Chip Ahoy said...

... your thoughts are mere fluff sitting lightly on water.


If only. My thoughts are as rifle grenades that I wear as a burdensome armament, for today my bike was stolen. That's right, my wonderful bike, recently fixed up with new tires and seat and tuned with the addition of new brakes, locked with a cable to a heavy rail sunk in concrete inside a protected garage on the second level down and so farthest from the door, stolen between the hours of 3:00PM and 4:30PM. It was there by my truck when I left to go shopping; milk, popcorn seeds, ceviche, watermelon, ginger root, mouse truffle pâté, drunken goat cheese, yellow cling peaches, the kind that go a little bit fermenty as they soften this time of year, and a large bunch of cilantro, you know, the usual staples, and on my return my bike was gone.

Gone!

The thing that makes me angry and a little bit sad is I had yet to fit it with plastic streamers in primary colors from the handle bar caps, a horn that goes HONK when you compress the rubber bulb, and playing cards held to the spokes with clothes pins that make a flappy motor noise when the bike is peddled. You see, I wasn't quite done pimping it out, now it's gone forever.

NKVD said...

I get militant about bike thieves. So far, none of mine have been stolen. My son once gave me a Muppet horn - squeeze the nose, horn honks - that was great. I had reflectors from cereal boxes. Had anyone messed with that they would have had one angry cyclist to deal with.

The Bicycle Thief. Meh.

Penny said...

Well I sure didn't ask you, ricpic.

Course you never asked me exactly what I thought about your mind either, and perhaps we should leave it at that. I would hate to judge you as you have judged me.

Penny said...

Awwww, Chip. There will be other 4th of July parades, buddy.

Rob said...

OMG, playing cards on spokes? The history of the 50's speaks to me. It was my Dad's idea. A fad was created in the hood and we didn't get shot!

MadisonMan said...

Condolences on the loss of the bike, Chip. That really really sucks.

Theo Boehm said...

I can't help it, but any Asian-style building reflected in water always make me think of the 3rd movement of Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde. Here's the link to the page for this movement from a very good website about Das Lied von der Erde.

And here is Leonard Bernstein conducting the Israel Philharmonic, with René Kollo, tenor, performing the movement. There are better interpretations, IMO, but, of the "live" YouTube videos available, this is about the least irritating to watch. I prefer the YouTube versions with only a Chinese painting as the visual, but for some reason I couldn't find this particular movement with anything good to watch, so you might as well watch the musicians.

Or better yet, look at Althouse's picture while listening to the music on a separate tab.

Theo Boehm said...

Completely off the topic of Althouse's photo, but related to my last comment, here is a performance of the Bourée from Bach's Orchestral Suite BMV1069, by Ton Koopman and the Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra.

Classical musicians are often not much to watch, but the contrast between the reasonably attractive and well-photographed musicians in the small Baroque orchestra, and the typically unfortunate appearance of many of the members of an ordinary symphony orchestra is hard to miss. It helps that the Bach players are part of a much smaller ensemble, and can play with the freedom and animation of chamber music, but still, you can see why I thought you'd be better off just listening to the Mahler while looking at something else.

Practically anything else, in fact.

Joan said...

Chip: condolences on your loss.

I commuted by bike back & forth from Allston to MIT. It was a tank, a Sears 10 speed, and it weighed a ton. I carried it up & down the stairs to my third-floor walk-up apartment; keeping it outside was not an option. I wore ski gloves in the winter to keep my hands from freezing. A year after graduation, it was stolen out of the garage of my new apartment. That amazed me: who would want that clunker?

I never replaced it. Now it seems as if all that happened to someone else, even though I still have the ski gloves.