I love this shot. It looks best in this large on black version.
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Here is a solid gold Buddha that weighs slightly more than Nirvana.
I was not supposed to bring my camera in there, but I mentioned that when I die, on my deathbed, I will receive total consciousness. So I got that going for me, which is nice. And while they thought about that, I took the picture.
Normally I don’t blog about business stuff, but this was an interesting experience.
Today I went through the process of signing up as a Director of a Malaysian company.
It required driving to a circumspect-looking shopping area in Kuala Lumpur where I had to walk by live rodents, reptiles, and insects being sold for lunch to find a narrow, poorly-lit stairway that led into darkness. It was extremely muggy, and it occurred to me that I prefer my outdoor experiences to be approximately the same temperature as my hotel room.
Upon finding my way up the distressed metal stairs and touching the wall by accident, only to have asbestos-laden substance coat my arm, I made it to the top to find a pock-marked metallic door ajar bearing the name of the lofty-titled Malaysian occupant inside. Upon entering, I could not help but notice it was the size of a double-wide phone booth cramped with papers, bad Indian radio, stickers from 70’s rock bands that were never popular in the states, and a dodgy-looking 60-year old Malay whose toupee was nearly half his age but did not make him look so.
The process of signing the papers involved a myriad of stamps, signatures, staple-reomovers, re-stapling, re-staple-removing, stamping-to-the-beat of Indian music, and his proud motioning to a crooked and faded photograph on the wall of him shaking hands with another government functionary, also clad in garish garments and an organ-grinder monkey cap, at a hotel conference room with bad wallpaper. He babbled inconceivable noises to me as his head bobbled like a Sikh in a sandstorm, the staccato rhythm to which I found myself nodding in absent agreement, so as to expedite the process and allow me to make a hasty egress as a new director of the company.
I was getting lost on purpose in Bangkok and I came across this really cool and seemingly hidden Buddhist Monastery. In the corner of it, I found this school where young boys are brought to be trained in the ways of Buddha. These kids were all very surprised to see me, since they don’t see anyone else for most of their schooling – especially white guys with big cameras.
They all ran over to me and that kid with the popsicle was the most engaging, asking me what kind of person I was and what the thing in my hand was. I told him it was a camera, for taking pictures, then asked him to pose so I could show him. He and the other kids hammed it up for a minute then came over to look at the pictures… they were totally fascinated.
I asked him his name, and he said, “Boy”
I further inquired, “What do you mean? You mean your name is ‘Boy’?”
“And what is his name,” I asked, pointing at the other kid.
“Oh, that is Boy too,” he remarked, as if it was a silly question.
It reminded me a bit of the Marklar deal, and it was all very strange. Then the master-Buddhist Monk came over and asked me to leave because I was disturbing the children.
When I was in Italy I passed this cool outdoor cafe so I decided to grab a shot. The light was very good with the setting sun plus the warm oranges of the lights around the cafe itself.
Well, this wasn’t in Turkey, but it reminded me of that for some reason. This is the central market area of Kuala Lumpur that seemed to have a lot more Muslims than other areas of the city.