Rain and clouds and rain and mist and rain and clouds.
For two days, that's what we've had. And it followed heat and smog and heat and smog that ended with a thunderstorm.
I got in a very short ride late today, along the waterfronts of Greenpoint, Long Island City and Astoria. I picked up some chicken panang curry and steamed dumplings from an Asian reataurant near PS 1 and consumed them into the mist that was turning to dusk on the Long Island City pier.
Along the way, I saw something that put me in the mind of Ezra Pound's poetry:
Well, it doesn't really remind me of Ezra Pound's poetry. But there is a connection. I had the same reaction to seeing this bike that I did to reading Pound's work: I thought, "All right, it's not my style. But I kinda admire it."
I had to make no such qualification for my enjoyment of what I chased my Thai dinner with:
Tosca couldn't resist the aroma that wafted from it. Actually, I couldn't, but I was trying really, really hard to show that indulging myself wasn't entirely my fault. (Ah, guilt. We never get over it, do we?)
You're looking at the Waffles and Dinges truck, which just happened to be at the pier. I had their waffles and ice cream once before, and loved it. So I was happy to see them again. And the guy and woman on the truck remembered me!
Through this weekend's rain, I did a bit of bike-related tinkering. I'll tell you more about that in a near-future post.
For two days, that's what we've had. And it followed heat and smog and heat and smog that ended with a thunderstorm.
I got in a very short ride late today, along the waterfronts of Greenpoint, Long Island City and Astoria. I picked up some chicken panang curry and steamed dumplings from an Asian reataurant near PS 1 and consumed them into the mist that was turning to dusk on the Long Island City pier.
Along the way, I saw something that put me in the mind of Ezra Pound's poetry:
Well, it doesn't really remind me of Ezra Pound's poetry. But there is a connection. I had the same reaction to seeing this bike that I did to reading Pound's work: I thought, "All right, it's not my style. But I kinda admire it."
I had to make no such qualification for my enjoyment of what I chased my Thai dinner with:
Tosca couldn't resist the aroma that wafted from it. Actually, I couldn't, but I was trying really, really hard to show that indulging myself wasn't entirely my fault. (Ah, guilt. We never get over it, do we?)
You're looking at the Waffles and Dinges truck, which just happened to be at the pier. I had their waffles and ice cream once before, and loved it. So I was happy to see them again. And the guy and woman on the truck remembered me!
Through this weekend's rain, I did a bit of bike-related tinkering. I'll tell you more about that in a near-future post.
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