Working it Out...

These two South Pasadena parrots had been having quite a squabble.  The one on the right had been chasing after the one on the left for most of the morning.  The one on the left had no problem divebombing and pecking the one on the right.

After about twenty minutes of talking it out on this palm frond, they seemed to patch things up.  Whew!  I hate it when the neighbors fight.


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Numbers

It's the first of the month, and that means Theme Day for participating City Daily Photo bloggers. This month's theme is Numbers.

If you walk around the grounds of South Pasadena High School, you'll see these tiles embedded all over the place. For years I tried to figure out what they meant. Was the architect an obsessive compulsive who really needed to count? Were the numbers a reminder of South Pasadena students' reputation for great math skills? Did the entire sidewalk design come out of a big Tile By Numbers box? Was it a horrific reminder of the relentless, unending passage of time?!

Eventually, Mister Earl told me the numbers represented graduating classes of the high school, and that every year was (or would be) represented.

I like my obsessive compulsive story better. (All together now: one, two, three, four... ahhh. I feel better already.)

City Daily Photo is in the process of changing servers, so this month's collection of worldwide Theme Day posts can be found here. (Many thanks go to Julie of Sydney Eye for setting up the alternate blog for Theme Day posts.)

The Most Mysterious Cabinet in the World!

Hey, does that thing belong to Dr. Caligari?

I'm betting there are wizard hats, magic wands and a few books by Linda Goodman stored in there. What do you guys think?

The Most Fabulous Lawn in the Entire World

I don't know who lives here, but every spring when this shocking lawn starts blooming I imagine the owner must be someone like RuPaul or Angelyne or, heck, maybe even Strawberry Shortcake.

One thing is certain: they're in the pink. Literally!

I love it.

Greenlisted

Phil slowed down and looked at the property. Isolated? Check. Right color scheme? Check. Vaulted ceilings?

"Damn!" He said. "No vaulted ceilings!"

Once again, Phil drove on. (It wasn't easy being the Jolly Green Giant's realtor.)

Action/Reaction

Today is the first day of the month, and that means it's Theme Day for participating City Daily Photo bloggers. This month's theme is Action Shots.

I'm not sure why I decided to post this picture. It's not particularly action-y in the just-caught-the-football or running-and-about-to-miss-the-train kind of way. But it is a quick snap of the normal, everyday action on Mission Street. And anyway, there just has to be a story behind that guy waving at a headless mannequin in a window. A secret sign from a spy to a hidden action hero? You decide.

For worldwide interpretations of this month's theme, be sure to check out my brilliant fellow City Daily Photo bloggers. Click here to view thumbnails for all participants

Corridors To Another Dimension? (Probably just storage...)

Don't worry, I'll get back to posting lovely images of Craftsman details, heritage trees and sweeping views from the water tower. But for now, take a look at this odd little corner of town I found the other day. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about what's behind those doors...

La Wilinda

Hidden in the shadows behind those Colonial Revival posts is a Georgian carriage house designed in 1914 by noted architect Louis DuPuget Millar. The carriage house was part of the bigger "La Wilinda" estate owned at one point by Charles Horace Barker of Barker Brothers furniture.

To be honest, I've never noticed the house, but that little sign on the curb always made me wonder about the story of the place. I never expected it to be a story about furniture tycoons. "La Wilinda" sounds like something magical! I expected a story with references to Shangri La or Camelot!

Then again, maybe Barker Brothers Furniture gave a certain Lion and Witch their famous wardrobe...

It Could Happen

I imagine it looks like It's a Small World inside that cheerful house. And late at night, clowns go out joyriding in that car...

The Most Melancholy Wisteria Vine in the Whole World

Sounds like a novel by Carson McCullers. Or maybe Flannery O'Connor. What do you guys think?

Appropos of Nothing...

To me, this will always look like a one-eyed tree who is singing an aria while doing tai chi.

(Then again, I'm weird.)

Executive Decision

I can just imagine the conversation when this entryway was being designed:

"I just can't decide," he said when he came back to the office. "I have seven different tile samples to choose from, but I can't pick one. I like them all."

"Then use them all!" She said. Her eyes sparkled, magnified by the bifocals she had worn for the twenty years she'd been his secretary.

"The Board wouldn't like it," he said. "The Board definitely wouldn't like it."

"But you'd like it," she said. Then, more softly, "And I'd love it. I'd absolutely adore it."

(Sometimes, the secretary is simply more powerful than the Board.)

Possibility

I love the old buildings on Fremont and I hate to see an empty storefront there. So let's do a twist on my favorite game -- and give me yet another chance to make you guys do all the work as I recover from this blasted cold:

If you were going to open a business in this spot, what would it be?

As Time Goes By

Oh, when I see these glorious old automobiles parked around town, they look just like time travelers. They lounge against curbs the way Veronica Lake leaned against a bar. The sunlight sparkles from their fenders like the glint flashed from Barbara Stanwyck's anklet in Double Indemnity. They're more than cars, they're the steel and chrome relics of a past we can no longer visit. Like the elusive Maltese Falcon, they're "the stuff that dreams are made of..."

And you're telling me they actually need gas? That they don't run on the internal combustion of 1940s femme fatales and timing of classic Bogart quotes? They aren't really apparitions materializing from a former era -- not noir joyriders from an alternative monochrome dimension? I'm supposed to believe that they aren't driven by the spirits of Chandler and Cain but, instead, by a guy wearing Dockers and a shirt from the Gap? There's probably not even a flask in the glove box. Probably just the insurance and registration.

Sigh.

Plein Air Writing

All you need to do is find a chair. (And maybe WiFi?)

Through Marlowe's Eyes (Part 3)

It was about eleven o'clock in the morning, mid October, with the sun not shining and a look of hard wet rain in the clearness of the foothills...

--Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep

Cinema Seance

Is the Rialto haunted? You guys know I like to think it is. I like to think that late at night, the spirits of Chaplin, Keaton, Pabst, Hawks, Welles, Godard, Antonioni, Kubrick and Kurosawa all sit in the dark, screening each other's movies and talking about philosophy.

"Tragedy is a close-up," Keaton loves to say, "Comedy a long-shot."

"Yes," Kurosawa says. "And in a mad world, only the mad are sane."

" Ah, mes amis," Godard usually chimes in when things get too serious, "don't you realize that cinema is the most beautiful fraud in the world?"

That's what I think happens. Late at night. In our beloved movie palace that sits locked up and seemingly lost.

I would love it if the Rialto served as a comfy hangout for ghosts. I just don't want the Rialto herself to become a ghost. There's still a lot of life left in her.

In case you missed it, you can read/see more about ghosts of the Rialto -- and other places in South Pas -- at my latest Halloween column and video montage at South Pasadena Patch.

UPDATE
For even MORE spooky and cool Halloween video -- check this out. Is it proof of time travel, back to a Charlie Chaplin movie premiere? You decide...

Halloween is Coming (Part 5)

I've always imagined ghosts living in the old Eddie Park mansion. In my mind, they're playful, sweet and a little reckless, just like Cary Grant and Constance Bennett in the Topper films. What do you think?

Halloween is Coming (Part 4)

I imagine the conversation went something like this...

"Isn't it great?" He said.

She stalled. Reached for a cigarette.

"I asked you for a pumpkin," she said, "and you brought home a jack o lantern the size of a billboard..."

"The kids will LOVE it!"

"It's nine feet tall."

"They weren't going to sell it to me at first," he said, "but I made a deal. I thought nobody else would have something like this."

"Nobody else would want something like this."

He leaned against the RV. Grabbed one of the mini snickers bars out of the open bag on the dash.

"Where's your Halloween spirit?" He said.

She smiled. "I've got Halloween spirit," she said. "I'm scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Scared I married someone who brought home a nine foot plywood jack o lantern!"

He handed her one of the little Milky Way bars. Those were her favorite.

She took it.

"Ah hell," she said. "I guess the kids will love it."

"I knew you'd come around," he said. "Later, they're delivering the electronic zombies."

"The what?"

"Don't worry," he said, "I also rented a generator..."

Halloween is Coming (Part 3)

The spirits are restless at The Rialto. Can you blame them? For years they have haunted a glamorous relic, forgotten in an age of multiplexes, YouTube and 60 inch HDTVs. It's not just the ghosts of moviegoers past -- the children of the Depression whose nickles bought hope. It's not just the spectres of all those film icons -- Chaplin and Keaton, Pickford and Fairbanks, Brooks and Garbo and Deitrich and Wells, Valentino and Swanson and Bogart and Bacall -- the players who flickered and faded, whose magic infused a layer of pixie dust into the pile of those plush velvet seats. It's the phantom energy of so many dreams wished for within those elegant walls. Dreams of lives as pretty as the ones onscreen. Dreams of futures paved with stars, of heroic adventures on stormy seas, of love affairs so grand they could outlast war and famine. Those dreams still hover there, in that dusty old church of the everyman. They were dreams boosted by soaring musical scores and fueled by buttered popcorn. They were dreams shared in the dark with other dreamers.

Those spirits are restless. Can't you feel their presence when you walk past? Come back, they say. Come back and bring us back to life.