| (no subject) |
[Nov. 2nd, 2007|02:29 pm] |
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i'm amazed how good it feels to tell off a client |
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| the littlest hobo |
[Oct. 19th, 2007|10:00 am] |
THERE'S A VOICE,
THAT KEEPS ON CALLING ME.
DOWN THE ROAD,
IS WHERE I'LL ALWAYS BE.
EVERY STOP I MAKE,
I'LL MAKE A NEW FRIEND.
CAN'T STAY FOR LONG, JUST TURN AROUND AND I'M GONE AGAIN.
MAYBE TOMORROW, I'LL WANNA SETTLE DOWN,
UNTIL TOMORROW, I'LL JUST KEEP MOVING ON
DOWN THIS ROAD, THAT NEVER SEEMS TO END,
WHERE NEW ADVENTURE, LIES JUST AROUND THE BEND
SO IF YOU WANNA JOIN ME FOR A WHILE,
JUST GRAB YOUR HAT, COME TRAVEL LIGHT,
THAT'S HOBO STYLE.
MAYBE TOMORROW, I'LL WANT TO SETTLE DOWN,
UNTIL TOMORROW, THE WHOLE WORLD IS MY HOME
SO IF YOU WANNA JOIN ME FOR A WHILE,
JUST GRAB YOUR HAT, COME TRAVEL LIGHT,
THAT'S HOBO STYLE.
MAYBE TOMORROW, I'LL WANT TO SETTLE DOWN,
UNTIL TOMORROW, I'LL JUST KEEP MOVING ON.
MAYBE TOMORROW, I'LL WANT TO SETTLE DOWN,
UNTIL TOMORROW, I'LL JUST KEEP MOVING ON.
THERE'S A WORLD, THAT'S WAITING TO UNFOLD,
A BRAND NEW TALE, NO ONE HAS EVER TOLD,
WE'VE JOURNEY'D FAR BUT, YOU KNOW IT WON'T BE LONG,
WE'RE ALMOST THERE AND WE'VE PAID OUR FARE, WITH THE HOBO SONG.
MAYBE TOMORROW, I'LL WANT TO SETTLE DOWN,
UNTIL TOMORROW, I'LL JUST KEEP MOVING ON.
SO IF YOU WANNA JOIN ME FOR A WHILE,
JUST GRAB YOUR HAT, COME TRAVEL LIGHT,
THAT'S HOBO STYLE.
MAYBE TOMORROW I'LL FIND WHAT I CALL HOME,
UNTIL TOMORROW, YOU KNOW I'M FREE TO ROAM. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 18th, 2007|02:51 pm] |
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"there's that many beards in here, you could almost be at one half of a velcro convention" |
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| WOTD |
[Sep. 28th, 2007|10:34 am] |
verbatim
1. in exactly the same words; word for word: to repeat something verbatim.
2. corresponding word for word to the original source or text: a verbatim record of the proceedings.
3. skilled at recording or noting down speeches, proceedings, etc., with word-for-word accuracy: a verbatim stenographer. |
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| Dieter Rams |
[Sep. 28th, 2007|10:32 am] |
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As designers we have a great responsibility. I believe designers should eliminate the unnecessary. That means eliminating everything that is modish because this kind of thing is only short-lived. |
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| You Made Me Forget My Dreams |
[Sep. 20th, 2007|05:30 pm] |
You made me forget my dreams
When I woke up to you sleeping
We had peace for the night at least
But the trouble starts today
This morning you'll say
"I'll see you sometime, maybe" and I'll
Fall back to uneasy sleep
You made me forget my dreams
I was building a space rocket
With the boy who plays bass guitar
With the boy who's wearing flares
He didn't care
He lit the fuse and ran for a mile
The space rocket went up in style
I'll lend you two hundred quid
For a flight across the ocean
Maybe things will look better there
Because they couldn't seem much worse
Than tears and a curse
For men with guns, maturing in age
Will always pay a shitty wage
Will always pay a shitty wage
You made me forget my dreams
When I woke up to you sleeping
There was blood on the sheets again
And the view outside the window
Of gardens in bloom
Obscured by all the trouble we had
I think I better make a move
I think I better make a move |
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| WOTD |
[Sep. 20th, 2007|03:19 pm] |
triptych
1. Fine Arts. a set of three panels or compartments side by side, bearing pictures, carvings, or the like.
2. a hinged, three-leaved tablet, written on, in ancient times, with a stylus. |
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| shiney new things |
[Sep. 20th, 2007|03:15 pm] |
in my state of delirium brought on by this head cold i decided to buy myself a brand new camera after 3 months without to replace the one stolen in barcelona. and here it be...
 |
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| Argh |
[Sep. 19th, 2007|02:42 pm] |
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full cold silly man cold, and i've not been ill for an age damn it |
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| WOTD |
[Sep. 19th, 2007|12:03 pm] |
hoi polloi
1) The common people generally
2) The masses. |
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| Carbon |
[Sep. 19th, 2007|11:58 am] |
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as we all know, carbon is more dangerous than asbestos. it must be designed out, locked down, sold on or simply suppressed with vigorous rhetoric. |
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| WOTD |
[Sep. 14th, 2007|12:03 pm] |
serendipity
1) The faculty of making fortunate discoveries by accident.
2) The fact or occurrence of such discoveries.
3) An instance of making such a discovery. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 14th, 2007|10:49 am] |
my head hurts, i slept in the office last night and i think i promised to by the girls 3 doors down cakes at some point today
silly me
i need to go back to sleep. |
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| WOTD |
[Sep. 13th, 2007|10:11 am] |
bricolage.
1. a construction made of whatever materials are at hand; something created from a variety of available things.
2. (in literature) a piece created from diverse resources.
3. (in art) a piece of makeshift handiwork.
4. the use of multiple, diverse research methods. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 10th, 2007|12:52 pm] |
monday
rethink interior space theory by making minimalism 10% bigger
tuesday
i have been asked to devise a prototype building for stoliichkosmos, the russian military estate agency. they're looking for a universal outpost unit, something that can be whacked up quickly in chechnya, or on the moon, or at the north pole. wherever they're claiming dominion this week
i'm suggesting a unipod built from ultra-light, "smelt-burped" omniminium. depending on how you clip it together it can look like a nuclear bunker or a serpentine pavilion. context is everything. you'd think finding people to go in it - a recurring problem throughout the history of architecture - would be difficult. but here too my clients are pushing the boundaries by aiming for a 100% recyclable population. tinker, tailor, oligarch, spy, detainee, etc. context is evrything.
wednesday
My conservactionist friend dusty penhaligon is finally out of the nick, having served his time for smoking in a public place observable by spiteful little middle-class children.
i give him the exciting news. an entire british region has been discovered, under the north sea. doggerland. he narrows his eyes and lights a rool-up. "doggerland. is this something you've got out of the sun?" no, mate. i show him the story - it's in the independent, which more or less clinches anything these days.
he loves it. there's a 5,000 year-old landscape down there. lakes. hills. human settlements. unspoilt heritage, but under water and silt. i mean it's ideal for him. it's been conserved at the moment so clearly the "action" he should take is to ignore it. he's not convinced,
we've wandered into a pub which, thank god, has a smoking yard. it's out the back by the bogs and the drains and the kitchen fat atomiser. "we need to restore doggerland. but it needs to be dry heritage..." i leave him there muttering. when i return, he's still at it. "...if, instead of yeilding to the inevitable we really MOVED on this one..." that's the chasers gone flying.
thursday
i wish dusty would shut up. he wants to re-establish the ancient land bridge between britain and europe. well, good luch. he's going to need more than an EU reerendum for THAT.
"it's a question of psychology" he says, tapping ash onto his temple. "if you propose a bloody great retaing wall between east yorkshire and jutland a) everyones thinks you're mad but at the same time b) a much smaller corresponding retaining wall across the english channel suddenly looks extremly modest..."
oh, he's got it all worked out on one side of A4. apparently, " once you've divided everything up using a grid", things like draining the north sea, putting the water somewhere, compensating and explaining things to all the fishermen and sailors, elevating the ancient realm of doggerland then stuffing the viod underneath with "landfill, rubbish, whatever, could be a few bob in it..." well, you can see how the grid makes things that much simpler.
friday
great news. my russian clients love the omniminium unipod. now they're wondering if i have a solution for their other big problem - how to retain world heritage status for the beautiful, low-rise st petersburgh AND get away with a new 300m snaking skein of architectural snot in the middle.
hm. it's too late to cancel the tower of mucus, as the mafis's already paid for it. the sensible thing for russia to do is to find the locus of world heritage adjudication, then simply take it over.
dusty rings. he's got several "conservationist developers" interested in brownfield regeneration if his 5,000 year-old landscape is recovered. but whats the point? once the ice caps melt, everything will be under water again.
dusty patiently points out that i'm talking about the future, which "is a foreign country"
saturday
A mysterious russian consortium has found out where global heritage is defined - a poky little office behind a byzantine church in istanbul. and they've bought it. oh dear, looks like stonehenge wasn't as world class as we thought...
sunday
reposition my fat minimalism, in the recliner.
taken from ian martin in BD 07-09-07 |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 20th, 2007|02:32 pm] |
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“If you were a son of mine, I wouldn’t want you to be an architect,” the septuagenarian told [the] reporter, “because it’s a tough way to be in the world. Look, my son who graduated from law school three years ago makes more than I do after 40 years of working.” |
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| Safety Disclaimer |
[Aug. 14th, 2007|06:03 pm] |
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Rock climbing is extremely dangerous. You are responsible for your safety and the safety of your climbing partners. In order to reduce the risk of injury, paralysis, or death you must use safe climbing practices and good judgment at all times. Any type of climbing presents serious risks to your safety, physical health, and life. Please climb safely. |
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| Annie Choi(An Open Letter) |
[Aug. 2nd, 2007|04:51 pm] |
Dear Architects
I am sick of your shit.
Once, a long time ago in the days of yore, I had a friend who was studying architecture to become, presumably, an architect. This friend introduced me to other friends, who were also studying architecture. Then these friends had other friends who were architects—real architects doing real architecture like designing luxury condos that look a lot like glass dildos. And these real architects knew other real architects and now the only people I know are architects. And they all design glass dildos that I will never work or live in and serve only to obstruct my view of New Jersey.
Do not get me wrong, architects. I like you as a person. I think you are nice, smell good most of the time, and I like your glasses. You have crazy hair, and if you are lucky, most of it is on your head. But I do not care about architecture. It is true. This is what I do care about:
● burritos
● hedgehogs
● coffee
As you can see, architecture is not on the list. I believe that architecture falls somewhere between toenail fungus and invasive colonoscopy in the list of things that interest me.
Perhaps if you didn't talk about it so much, I would be more interested. When you point to a glass cylinder and say proudly, hey my office designed that, I giggle and say it looks like a bong. You turn your head in disgust and shame. You think, obviously she does not understand. What does she know? She is just a writer. She is no architect. She respects vowels, not glass cocks. And then you say now I am designing a lifestyle center, and I ask what is that, and you say it is a place that offers goods and services and retail opportunities and I say you mean like a mall and you say no. It is a lifestyle center. I say it sounds like a mall. I am from the Valley, bitch. I know malls.
Architects, I will not lie, you confuse me. You work sixty, eighty hours a week and yet you are always poor. Why aren't you buying me a drink? Where is your bounty of riches? Maybe you spent it on merlot. Maybe you spent it on hookers and blow. I cannot he sure. It is a mystery. I will leave that to the scientists to figure out.
Architects love to discuss how much sleep they have gotten. One will say how he was at the studio until five in the morning, only to return again two hours later. Then another will say, oh that is nothing, I haven't slept in a week. And then another will say, guess what, I have never slept ever, My dear architects, the measure of how hard you've worked and how much you've accomplished is not related to the number of hours you have not slept. Flave you heard of Rem Koolhaas? He is a famous architect. I know this because you tell me he is a famous architect. I hear that Rem Koolhaas is always sleeping. He is, I presume, sleeping right now. And I hear he gets shit done. Arid I also hear that in a stunning move, he is making a building that looks not like a glass cock, but like a concrete vagina. When you sleep more, you get vagina. You can all take a lesson from Rem Koolhaas.
Life is hard for me, please understand. Architects are an important part of my existence. They call me at eleven at night and say they just got off of work, am I hungry? Listen, it is practically midnight. I ate hours ago. So long ago that, in fact, I am hungry again. So yes, I will go. Then I will go and there will be other architects talking about AutoCAD shortcuts and something about electric panels and can you believe that is all I did today, what a drag. I look around the table at the poor, tired, and hungry, and think to myself, I have but only one bullet left in the gun. Who will I choose?
I have a friend who is a doctor. He gives me drugs. I enjoy them. I have a friend who is a lawyer. He helped me sue my landlord. My architect friends have given me nothing. No drugs, no medical advice, and they don't know how to spell subpoena. One architect friend figured out that my apartment was one hundred and eighty seven square feet. That was nice. Thanks for that.
I suppose one could ask what someone like me brings to architects like yourselves. I bring cheer. I yell at architects when they start talking about architecture. I force them to discuss far more interesting topics, like turkey eggs. Why do we eat chicken eggs, but not turkey eggs? They're bigger. And people really like turkey. See? I am not afraid to ask the tough questions.
So, dear architects, i will stick around, for only a little while. I hope that one day some of you will become doctors and lawyers or will figure out my taxes. And we will laugh at the days when you spent the entire evening talking about some European you've never met who designed a building you will never see because you are too busy work king on something that will never get built. But even if that day doesn't arrive, give me a call anyway, I am free.
Yours truly, |
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| even aphodite has nothing on me |
[Jul. 29th, 2007|03:45 am] |
i want to bath in milk
i want to eat grapes
i adore polly jean (still) |
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| stop |
[Jul. 17th, 2007|03:14 am] |
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oh my god my head is being silly... |
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