Yesterday, I borrowed Larry's truck and my new, one subject, community college ruled spiral notebook and drove down to my first day of German class.
There are a lot of great things about this class. It's cheap, for one. The timing and location tend to work against it however. The class is taught in south Ahwatukee, which is pretty much as far south you can go and still be in the Sunsprawl. And the class starts at six. Since traffic pretty much advances south on the 17 at a walking pace, I tried to be clever and take the back road into Ahwatukee. Apparently, some other people have also figured out this trick.
Anyway, got there on time, parked, and found my classroom. The class has about ten people enrolled, of a fairly wide age range. One guy looks like he's still in high school (why aren't you taking German there?) and one guy is in his late 50s early 60s. Most of the rest skews older although there are a few people there my age. The class is mostly white men. Interestingly, two of the students are going on the same Rhine river cruise (coincidently). Some people are taking the course to reconnect with a childhood language, some for travel.
The teacher is nice, a native German speaker. The first thing she did was to speak slowly and clearly an introductory paragraph to get an idea for the level we were all speaking at. I was amazed to realized that I basically understood nearly everything she said. I wasn't understanding every word, but I understood what the sentences was trying to convey. I said I understood 9 out of 10, and actually, there were a few other people who did too. The average seemed to be about 5, with some people only understanding at a 3 or 4 level. I was a little worried that with my practice with DuoLingo I might be too advanced actually for a beginner beginner course. It seemed like everyone had at least a passing familiarity or some kind of tenuous connection to German.
The class moved pretty well, we got a thick sheaf of handouts and learned about basics of introductions and some questions. Wo wohen Sie? Ich bin aus Arizona. That kind of thing. Feels like it should be a good class.
Today was busy, I shipped out a bunch of eBay packages. It is actually quite handy and convenient to print off USPS shipping labels here. Ebay has folded in a postage payment system in so you simply say "print shipping postage" and tell it how big your box is, and it fills in the label, charges your Paypal account, and prints off a label. I slap it on the package, and then I just drop it off at the post office without having to wait in line.
Swung by the new donut shop on the way back. The donuts were not bad. Pretty par for the course for what I was expecting. Not as good as Rainbow Donuts on McDowell, but better than the standard Dunkin' Donuts. If you make the donut rounds (get it?) around this city, you will be quickly confronted by the fact that the donut shops here, especially the non-Dunkin' ones, are all run by southeast Asians. I was guessing Thai or Vietnamese, because many of them also sell boba tea, but actually, it turns out that they are all Cambodians.
I can kind of understand- one family makes a toehold in the market, gets to understand the supply chain, logistics, business, and paves the way for others in the same ethnic minority (especially one which is a very small, and consequently, more tightly knit) to get into the same business. Donut shops have a low barrier to entry- you need about 50K in start up equipment (not including the space), but you can run them with one or two people and the profits per donut are actually pretty good.
Anyway. Took the bus downtown to Cartel Coffee, the coffee shop which is way too sophisticated for you, although they take pity on us Frapp-heads and try to be nice. Took some photos of the old Matador building and did some more sketching before heading back uptown to another incubator meeting.
Today's speaker gave a presentation on form code and signage code in particular, and then gave us critiques on our designs. People oohed and ahhed at my quick and dirty sketches hit with a bit of photoshop. Shouldn't let it get to my head. It was a good working session too to sit down with Rhonda and get her to answer my questions about the site and the project and the strategy for pushing forward.
Bus and bike back to the house pretty quick. If you can bike to the bus and not change anywhere, you can actually get around Phoenix relatively quickly. For a bus system.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 27, 2014
Student again
It was one year ago, standing on the icy steps of the architecture building of Washington University in St. Louis, the glow and drunken revelry from the final celebration of graduate school, that I looked up into the dark skies and said "I'm never going to be a college student again."
Guess who is the newest student at South Mountain Community College?
After the interview, I started looking more carefully at German classes I could take, and I thought, oh, it will be easy to jump in to a community outreach one credit program.
Turns out there is some paperwork involved. Actually, I spent an hour or two, calling back and forth with the community college, scanning my ID, paying for the class, registering as a student, all that kind of stuff. While it was far easier than, say, enrolling at ASU, I'm not sure it was really necessary for a 1 credit hour, five class Quick German course at an outreach center. I mean, I have a student ID number and all that. My tuition bill is less than $100, including fees.
We'll see. It could turn out that the class is totally the wrong thing to take and that I'm advanced enough for quick German II, in which case I'll see if I can switch over. At any rate, given my intention to be downtown around four and in Ahwatukee around six, we'll see how everything dovetails together. It may turn out that I bag the central phoenix meeting and go to Wednesday's and Thursday's meeting instead.
Anyway, after four years at ASU, two and a half at Wash U, I have a perverse desire to buy a South Mountain Community College hoodie.
Represent!
[editor's note: Alec finished a rather largish bottle of Ommegang Hennepin (7.7% ABV) and he ate a half plastic container of salad for dinner, so please disregard the last 3/4 of this post.]
Guess who is the newest student at South Mountain Community College?
After the interview, I started looking more carefully at German classes I could take, and I thought, oh, it will be easy to jump in to a community outreach one credit program.
Turns out there is some paperwork involved. Actually, I spent an hour or two, calling back and forth with the community college, scanning my ID, paying for the class, registering as a student, all that kind of stuff. While it was far easier than, say, enrolling at ASU, I'm not sure it was really necessary for a 1 credit hour, five class Quick German course at an outreach center. I mean, I have a student ID number and all that. My tuition bill is less than $100, including fees.
We'll see. It could turn out that the class is totally the wrong thing to take and that I'm advanced enough for quick German II, in which case I'll see if I can switch over. At any rate, given my intention to be downtown around four and in Ahwatukee around six, we'll see how everything dovetails together. It may turn out that I bag the central phoenix meeting and go to Wednesday's and Thursday's meeting instead.
Anyway, after four years at ASU, two and a half at Wash U, I have a perverse desire to buy a South Mountain Community College hoodie.
Represent!
[editor's note: Alec finished a rather largish bottle of Ommegang Hennepin (7.7% ABV) and he ate a half plastic container of salad for dinner, so please disregard the last 3/4 of this post.]
the interview
My hair was moussed, I borrowed a tie and a black belt from Larry and wore a newly bleached button-down shirt. Even though the interview was via Skype and a view from the waist up, there is something that feels more serious about wearing dress shoes, to say nothing of pants.
The interview lasted about 45 minutes and I talked to two of the main architects. They looked to be in their mid 30s. The head of the firm was in another meeting and so I missed the chance to talk to him this time. They were very nice and I tried to remember to avoid colloquialisms like "you guys," which shows up surprisingly frequently when I talk. One of my interviewers was from Buenos Aires so I spoke to him briefly in Spanish. Anyway, my impression of the interview was that it went very well. Surprisingly well, actually.
This weekend I worked on some rough sketches for the Phoenix Commons project associated with Project Rising. The challenge is to create something modern, distinctive and eye-catching, unique to Phoenix, reflective of the Native American and Mexican heritage of the state, and not unbelievably kitschy.
Came up with these two ideas:
Anyway, I sent out these images around 1 am this morning with some notes and reference images and I got some feedback this afternoon.
The interview lasted about 45 minutes and I talked to two of the main architects. They looked to be in their mid 30s. The head of the firm was in another meeting and so I missed the chance to talk to him this time. They were very nice and I tried to remember to avoid colloquialisms like "you guys," which shows up surprisingly frequently when I talk. One of my interviewers was from Buenos Aires so I spoke to him briefly in Spanish. Anyway, my impression of the interview was that it went very well. Surprisingly well, actually.
This weekend I worked on some rough sketches for the Phoenix Commons project associated with Project Rising. The challenge is to create something modern, distinctive and eye-catching, unique to Phoenix, reflective of the Native American and Mexican heritage of the state, and not unbelievably kitschy.
Came up with these two ideas:
Jan 23, 2014
interview!
I have an interview[!] tomorrow morning[!!] with a an architecture[!!!!] company in Stuttgart[!!!!!!]!
On the one hand, it's very exciting to finally get an actual interview after all these months. I started sending out applications to German firms over six months ago. Apart from a skype interview for a Designboom internship which I turned down, this is the first interview or sign of interest. It's very exciting because an interview has the potential to lead to a really cool firm which does really modern, clean, interesting work. It's a small office, only 12 employees, which keeps that small studio atmosphere I really liked about Tatiana's. It's exciting because its a possibility of returning to doing the things I love best, architecture and travel.
But, it's also just an interview. Maybe someone nudged them towards me and to be nice, they decide to talk to me just to see how wonderful I actually am. Maybe they're not actually hiring. Statistically, I feel like I'll need a few interviews before I'll get a job offer. Probably this interview won't lead to anything.
But who knows! If they're taking the time to find out about me, they're taking the to find out about me. I'm excited and nervous. Been preparing all day. Ran through a practice interview with mom. She said I sounded competent and confident but a little flat, and my delivery was a little muddled as I tripped over words. I need to remember to slow down and keep it conversational.
The worst thing that can happen is that I get a great practice in conducting an interview with a German firm. In my experience, each time I've been interviewed via skype, I've gotten better at it. The first interview did not go well. The second interview, I was offered a position. I'm sure I will do a good job with this one.
And I need to get some rest.
On the one hand, it's very exciting to finally get an actual interview after all these months. I started sending out applications to German firms over six months ago. Apart from a skype interview for a Designboom internship which I turned down, this is the first interview or sign of interest. It's very exciting because an interview has the potential to lead to a really cool firm which does really modern, clean, interesting work. It's a small office, only 12 employees, which keeps that small studio atmosphere I really liked about Tatiana's. It's exciting because its a possibility of returning to doing the things I love best, architecture and travel.
But, it's also just an interview. Maybe someone nudged them towards me and to be nice, they decide to talk to me just to see how wonderful I actually am. Maybe they're not actually hiring. Statistically, I feel like I'll need a few interviews before I'll get a job offer. Probably this interview won't lead to anything.
But who knows! If they're taking the time to find out about me, they're taking the to find out about me. I'm excited and nervous. Been preparing all day. Ran through a practice interview with mom. She said I sounded competent and confident but a little flat, and my delivery was a little muddled as I tripped over words. I need to remember to slow down and keep it conversational.
The worst thing that can happen is that I get a great practice in conducting an interview with a German firm. In my experience, each time I've been interviewed via skype, I've gotten better at it. The first interview did not go well. The second interview, I was offered a position. I'm sure I will do a good job with this one.
And I need to get some rest.
Jan 22, 2014
I Am Phoenix And You Can Too!
I've been on a few kicks lately regarding architecture, urbanism, and ebay.
Mom was selling some of her tea and coffee sets, and so I threw them up on Craigslist for what I thought was a really good deal. Not an ounce of interest. I am usually a big fan of Craigslist- it's kind of the libertarian's ebay- no registrations, no profiles, no fees. It's easy, clean, and you decide who you want to sell to and how to work out the details of payment (cash, check, trades, etc.) But the tea and coffee sets weren't moving and I begen to think that for their value, I needed to up the game.
I think the last time I listed something on ebay, I sold dad's expensive mountain bike and that was years ago, so I set up a new account, went through all the hoops with PayPal etc. Re-discovering ebay was kind of a time suck- people are selling all kinds of stuff on there. Once I'd listed a few items for sale, I was checking ebay compulsively like Facebook to see how many watchers, views, and bidders I had on each item.
Right now, I've got two bids out on a pair of nice headphones and a pair of Ralph Lauren winter boot. Both are lightly used and my bids are pretty low. Actually, I expect to be outbid on both of them. I also have eight items listed on ebay for sale, and of those, five have active bids. It's kind of exciting.
I met with Tempest last Sunday afternoon to go over the Adams st project. I've decided to jump in feet first to this thing and see what I can learn and where this thing goes. This project is a proposed restaurant-bar-coffee-retail in an old restaurant space on Adams street. However, this is only the ground floor. Above that is a five or six floor parking garage, and, oddly, a tennis club on the roof with a half dozen courts.
The woman behind the project wants us to feature a strong native American and Latino component. I'm still trying to understand the impulse behind it. I'm guessing that since she's envisioning some kind of relationship with the convention center, that this space would be a strong destination for convention-goers, who would get a kick from a bit of Old Town Scottsdale, the West's Most Western City (TM) kind of stuff. Tempest mentioned "talking stick" quite a few times.
Sometimes you have to bite the bullet and embrace kitsch if that's what the client wants, I guess. There are probably tasteful ways to make modern architecture with a southwestern and Native American nod, but it's hard to not make that nod dismissive, derivative, or simply bad taste.
There was a certain hill in Australia that developers wanted to level and turn into a shopping mall. That particular hill was sacred to the native aborigines since they believed that the hill was the sleeping spot of a giant snake god, and so they campaigned their concerns. The developers and architects came up with what they thought was a sensitive and appropriate compromise of making the ramp to the parking garage look like a snake. There was a lawsuit and the judge ruled in favor of the aborigines, probably an unusual outcome.
I can accept that to a certain extent we live in a fantasy and that architecture in the current economic model has to facilitate that fantasy. But really, haven't we done enough to stomp on the native Americans and Latinos? After the Mexican American wars, the structured racism, broken treaties, and the Trail of Tears, do we really need to co-opt some tribal blanket patterns for the facade treatment? It's bad enough we stole their future, do we need to belittle the tattered remains of their cultures as well?
Anyway, these are petty concerns. The main thing is that I'm now involved in this project, which is an interesting experience in how these kind of projects get going, get funded, get put together, all that. Why do I care? I remember sometime before I graduated from ASU, listening to NPR and there was a guy talking about projects and funding. I was shocked to find out that most lenders have only five standard project types for which they will lend money on reasonable terms. Five. A shopping mall is one of those five. So is a detached house. It blew my mind because 1) it explained why our cities are so fucking boring- the same five types of projects repeated ad nauseum 2) architects don't design buildings- lenders design buildings. I can accept, grudgingly, that architects ultimately provide a service to a client, and that the architecture which is produced is the vision of the client, the fundamental what of the project. However, this itself is an illusion- if your owner can't get funding from lenders, there's no project.
Who shapes the build environment the most? It's definitely not the architects, it's not the developer, it's not even the legislator or the zoning official: it's the lenders, who are driven by underwriters with a pathological and instinctive fear of anything that has not been proven wildly economically profitable for a hundred years. It's an entirely capitalist process and outcome: bland, boring, repetitive, strip-mall filled suburban sprawling cities are predictable and they make money. So that's what get's built. Awful to live in. Awful to visit. Good for the anonymous underwriters. At least until the skilled labor and creative class leaves because it's too boring and soul-sucking to bear.
The biggest problem I have with the capitalist model is that it leaves too much out of the financial model. Glaring omissions. Obscene shortsightedness. Reckless disregard for human life, both in quality, duration, and even continuation of the species. If you design a product that encourages and hastens ecological disaster which will kill millions upon millions of people, you are in fact, facing an irreparable loss of your customer base. If the net result of your business model is the collapse of civilization, you will face very unfavorable exchange rates in the dollar to stale Twinkies market.
I am sure that most of you think I am being over dramatic. Starbucks opening 1,000 more stores next year is not the first horseman of the apocalypse. However, everything in the world is connected. If you accept that two hundred years of industrialization
Mom was selling some of her tea and coffee sets, and so I threw them up on Craigslist for what I thought was a really good deal. Not an ounce of interest. I am usually a big fan of Craigslist- it's kind of the libertarian's ebay- no registrations, no profiles, no fees. It's easy, clean, and you decide who you want to sell to and how to work out the details of payment (cash, check, trades, etc.) But the tea and coffee sets weren't moving and I begen to think that for their value, I needed to up the game.
I think the last time I listed something on ebay, I sold dad's expensive mountain bike and that was years ago, so I set up a new account, went through all the hoops with PayPal etc. Re-discovering ebay was kind of a time suck- people are selling all kinds of stuff on there. Once I'd listed a few items for sale, I was checking ebay compulsively like Facebook to see how many watchers, views, and bidders I had on each item.
Right now, I've got two bids out on a pair of nice headphones and a pair of Ralph Lauren winter boot. Both are lightly used and my bids are pretty low. Actually, I expect to be outbid on both of them. I also have eight items listed on ebay for sale, and of those, five have active bids. It's kind of exciting.
I met with Tempest last Sunday afternoon to go over the Adams st project. I've decided to jump in feet first to this thing and see what I can learn and where this thing goes. This project is a proposed restaurant-bar-coffee-retail in an old restaurant space on Adams street. However, this is only the ground floor. Above that is a five or six floor parking garage, and, oddly, a tennis club on the roof with a half dozen courts.
The woman behind the project wants us to feature a strong native American and Latino component. I'm still trying to understand the impulse behind it. I'm guessing that since she's envisioning some kind of relationship with the convention center, that this space would be a strong destination for convention-goers, who would get a kick from a bit of Old Town Scottsdale, the West's Most Western City (TM) kind of stuff. Tempest mentioned "talking stick" quite a few times.
Sometimes you have to bite the bullet and embrace kitsch if that's what the client wants, I guess. There are probably tasteful ways to make modern architecture with a southwestern and Native American nod, but it's hard to not make that nod dismissive, derivative, or simply bad taste.
There was a certain hill in Australia that developers wanted to level and turn into a shopping mall. That particular hill was sacred to the native aborigines since they believed that the hill was the sleeping spot of a giant snake god, and so they campaigned their concerns. The developers and architects came up with what they thought was a sensitive and appropriate compromise of making the ramp to the parking garage look like a snake. There was a lawsuit and the judge ruled in favor of the aborigines, probably an unusual outcome.
I can accept that to a certain extent we live in a fantasy and that architecture in the current economic model has to facilitate that fantasy. But really, haven't we done enough to stomp on the native Americans and Latinos? After the Mexican American wars, the structured racism, broken treaties, and the Trail of Tears, do we really need to co-opt some tribal blanket patterns for the facade treatment? It's bad enough we stole their future, do we need to belittle the tattered remains of their cultures as well?
Anyway, these are petty concerns. The main thing is that I'm now involved in this project, which is an interesting experience in how these kind of projects get going, get funded, get put together, all that. Why do I care? I remember sometime before I graduated from ASU, listening to NPR and there was a guy talking about projects and funding. I was shocked to find out that most lenders have only five standard project types for which they will lend money on reasonable terms. Five. A shopping mall is one of those five. So is a detached house. It blew my mind because 1) it explained why our cities are so fucking boring- the same five types of projects repeated ad nauseum 2) architects don't design buildings- lenders design buildings. I can accept, grudgingly, that architects ultimately provide a service to a client, and that the architecture which is produced is the vision of the client, the fundamental what of the project. However, this itself is an illusion- if your owner can't get funding from lenders, there's no project.
Who shapes the build environment the most? It's definitely not the architects, it's not the developer, it's not even the legislator or the zoning official: it's the lenders, who are driven by underwriters with a pathological and instinctive fear of anything that has not been proven wildly economically profitable for a hundred years. It's an entirely capitalist process and outcome: bland, boring, repetitive, strip-mall filled suburban sprawling cities are predictable and they make money. So that's what get's built. Awful to live in. Awful to visit. Good for the anonymous underwriters. At least until the skilled labor and creative class leaves because it's too boring and soul-sucking to bear.
The biggest problem I have with the capitalist model is that it leaves too much out of the financial model. Glaring omissions. Obscene shortsightedness. Reckless disregard for human life, both in quality, duration, and even continuation of the species. If you design a product that encourages and hastens ecological disaster which will kill millions upon millions of people, you are in fact, facing an irreparable loss of your customer base. If the net result of your business model is the collapse of civilization, you will face very unfavorable exchange rates in the dollar to stale Twinkies market.
I am sure that most of you think I am being over dramatic. Starbucks opening 1,000 more stores next year is not the first horseman of the apocalypse. However, everything in the world is connected. If you accept that two hundred years of industrialization
Jan 21, 2014
One of the advantages of working for the government is that you get MLK day off, so instead of eating a small bowl of granola for breakfast, mom made us waffles. It was actually a productive morning: I went out with mom and Larry to drop off another load at Goodwill, then on to Scottsdale Fashion Square.
What a place filled with contrasting memories! Wandering through as a bored high-schooler with family, gleefully matching through in my dusty construction clothes straight from a construction site in undergrad, shopping with Saori and for Saori, and finally, being the strange unemployed guy at the end of his twenties- somebody asked me today if I worked at the mall- wandering amidst the lululemoms and mall-walkers. If it weren't all so boring, it would almost be nostalgic. Now it's just an irritating place.
After the mall, we drove to north central phoenix to pay a visit to mom's boss's house to pick up some moving boxes and give her boss a chance to show off the new place. Neighborhood looked a bit like a Tatooine village with round beige stucco and deep recessed does and windows. The house was filled with light and the smell of cats.
Stopped by Havana Cafe for lunch at the original location. Got some category-killer pumpkin soup spiced with haberero: one bite and I wanted to cancel my order and get a bowl. For lunch I got a big combo plate with fried plantations, fried yucca, cristos y moros, Cuban tamale, and a simple Cuban slaw. It was all great, and since it was Monday, the excellent mojitos were $3 a glass.
Came back to the house to get it ready for another showing and I took some more photos of stuff to sell on EBay. We'll see how how it goes, no bids on anything yet.
Went for a long walk with mom and Larry while the house was being shown. Really nice late afternoon weather, although the trail we were on was basically a hiker interstate.
What a place filled with contrasting memories! Wandering through as a bored high-schooler with family, gleefully matching through in my dusty construction clothes straight from a construction site in undergrad, shopping with Saori and for Saori, and finally, being the strange unemployed guy at the end of his twenties- somebody asked me today if I worked at the mall- wandering amidst the lululemoms and mall-walkers. If it weren't all so boring, it would almost be nostalgic. Now it's just an irritating place.
After the mall, we drove to north central phoenix to pay a visit to mom's boss's house to pick up some moving boxes and give her boss a chance to show off the new place. Neighborhood looked a bit like a Tatooine village with round beige stucco and deep recessed does and windows. The house was filled with light and the smell of cats.
Stopped by Havana Cafe for lunch at the original location. Got some category-killer pumpkin soup spiced with haberero: one bite and I wanted to cancel my order and get a bowl. For lunch I got a big combo plate with fried plantations, fried yucca, cristos y moros, Cuban tamale, and a simple Cuban slaw. It was all great, and since it was Monday, the excellent mojitos were $3 a glass.
Came back to the house to get it ready for another showing and I took some more photos of stuff to sell on EBay. We'll see how how it goes, no bids on anything yet.
Went for a long walk with mom and Larry while the house was being shown. Really nice late afternoon weather, although the trail we were on was basically a hiker interstate.
Jan 17, 2014
messages in bottles
I know what it's like.
You apply and apply and apply. You send out those little bottles of hope from your desert island. And you hear: nothing. Not a word. Did those bottles even make it to a passing ship or distant shore? Were they simply eaten by sharks or join the Alaska-sized island of floating plastic in the Pacific? Were they scooped up and put on display in Anthropologies to sell nautical themed jewelry? Was it intercepted by the NSA?
For those of you out there, suffering from the unhappiness and anxiety that job hunting brings, I have one piece of advice: apply to Germany. It may take awhile, but rest assured that you will get the most polite, sincere rejection letters. Apart from the ones sent to you in German (it's an easy mistake, but they're trying).
The typical rejection letter emphasizes what a long task it was to evaluate everyone's portfolio and application materials. They sound quite distraught that they have to inform you that you were not selected. They really stress that you should not take this rejection as a critique of yourself either as a designer or a human being. They want you to continue to live.
Actually, compared with the long silence from applying, this kind of rejection letter makes me almost want to send them flowers and a note with "hug :)"
I got a note like this the other day actually. The name of the company was familiar, but not that familiar. I have a big spreadsheet with places I've applied, contacts, details, date of application, desirability, location, etc. I'd applied at this firm so long ago that they weren't even on my spreadsheet. I think I must have applied there with a hardcopy portfolio and a printed resume, flown from Mexico to Germany not too long after I started working there.
Anyway.
The rental house went live on the market Thursday morning. Today, there were no less than three realtor groups drop by. Sounds like it will sell fast. Zara came out to greet each one of them in hopes that she would be adopted out of this unending nightmare of feline denigration.
For lunch I took Larry to a Mexican place I'd passed a few times driving around. The name of the place is Taqueria y Birrieria Jalisco. It's a place with no 'inside,' just a big covered patio and they bring food out to you. It also became quickly clear that this was a solomente Espanol kind of place since the only English on the menu was the required FDA warning about eating uncooked shellfish. And the waitress also didn't speak any English.
We each ordered two tacos al pastor, and two tacos birria, as well as some horchata. The chips and salsa they brought out were really good, but really spicy. Loved the salsa actually. A few people online had declared it the best al pastor in Phoenix, but I've been to Mexico City, pendejos, and Santisima to boot. Actually, I think Santisima had the better al-pastor taco. The birria (roasted goat) was spectacular. It tasted like it came right out of the street markets of Mexico City. Super moist, tender, great.
It's a kind of place which is a visceral reminder that Mexico and the US are intertwined, regardless of what people want to think. There is a lot here which is tinged or tinted with a Mexican heritage, but even more so is the dramatic interlocking fingers of Mexican culture with American.
You apply and apply and apply. You send out those little bottles of hope from your desert island. And you hear: nothing. Not a word. Did those bottles even make it to a passing ship or distant shore? Were they simply eaten by sharks or join the Alaska-sized island of floating plastic in the Pacific? Were they scooped up and put on display in Anthropologies to sell nautical themed jewelry? Was it intercepted by the NSA?
For those of you out there, suffering from the unhappiness and anxiety that job hunting brings, I have one piece of advice: apply to Germany. It may take awhile, but rest assured that you will get the most polite, sincere rejection letters. Apart from the ones sent to you in German (it's an easy mistake, but they're trying).
The typical rejection letter emphasizes what a long task it was to evaluate everyone's portfolio and application materials. They sound quite distraught that they have to inform you that you were not selected. They really stress that you should not take this rejection as a critique of yourself either as a designer or a human being. They want you to continue to live.
Actually, compared with the long silence from applying, this kind of rejection letter makes me almost want to send them flowers and a note with "hug :)"
I got a note like this the other day actually. The name of the company was familiar, but not that familiar. I have a big spreadsheet with places I've applied, contacts, details, date of application, desirability, location, etc. I'd applied at this firm so long ago that they weren't even on my spreadsheet. I think I must have applied there with a hardcopy portfolio and a printed resume, flown from Mexico to Germany not too long after I started working there.
Anyway.
The rental house went live on the market Thursday morning. Today, there were no less than three realtor groups drop by. Sounds like it will sell fast. Zara came out to greet each one of them in hopes that she would be adopted out of this unending nightmare of feline denigration.
For lunch I took Larry to a Mexican place I'd passed a few times driving around. The name of the place is Taqueria y Birrieria Jalisco. It's a place with no 'inside,' just a big covered patio and they bring food out to you. It also became quickly clear that this was a solomente Espanol kind of place since the only English on the menu was the required FDA warning about eating uncooked shellfish. And the waitress also didn't speak any English.
We each ordered two tacos al pastor, and two tacos birria, as well as some horchata. The chips and salsa they brought out were really good, but really spicy. Loved the salsa actually. A few people online had declared it the best al pastor in Phoenix, but I've been to Mexico City, pendejos, and Santisima to boot. Actually, I think Santisima had the better al-pastor taco. The birria (roasted goat) was spectacular. It tasted like it came right out of the street markets of Mexico City. Super moist, tender, great.
It's a kind of place which is a visceral reminder that Mexico and the US are intertwined, regardless of what people want to think. There is a lot here which is tinged or tinted with a Mexican heritage, but even more so is the dramatic interlocking fingers of Mexican culture with American.
Options
Met mom for lunch yesterday at Lolo's chicken and waffles. The place is so popular now, that they have valet parking during lunch. To clarify- this is chicken and waffles, south of downtown, in a city which is eponymous for sprawl and vast expanses of concrete and asphalt, and they still valet. Actually, its a good thing- getting people used to valet parking is a step towards changing the obscene required parking ordinances.
Anyway, lunch was good, everything they do is good- the chicken, the cheese grits, best fried okra I've had in a long, long time. From there, I walked to downtown Phoenix to Cartel Coffee and basically worked on plans for the future. I have a few options:
Anyway, I decided to change the location to meet Mason- if he wants to become an architect, he'll have to get out of the library anyway. I caught the lightrail down to ASU and discovered a new James Turrel installation there with square enclosure made of metal mesh set into a garden. I sat there and read The Old Gringo for awhile and practiced my Germany on my tablet while waiting for Mason. When he arrived, we walked through the ISTB 2 building which is one of my favorite buildings on campus to get ideas about water and space and catwalks. Afterwards, caught a bus from ASU and mom and Larry came to pick me up from where it dropped me near the house.
Anyway, lunch was good, everything they do is good- the chicken, the cheese grits, best fried okra I've had in a long, long time. From there, I walked to downtown Phoenix to Cartel Coffee and basically worked on plans for the future. I have a few options:
- Follow through with Tempest and stick out this development project with Studio Ma, which will run until the end of February. Help mom and Larry move and continue to look for work in Germany and Boston. This project is under the aegis of the Project Rising incubator, and basically gets pitched to the city of Phoenix in the first few days of March after the COP issues its request for proposals. At the end of February, fly to Houston and on to Stuttgart for one month to see Saori and look for work on the ground. If nothing comes up, return to Houston and look for work in Houston.
- Catch a ride up to Arcosanti out in Cordes Junction with the aim of taking over the arcology and re-iginite advanced urban and sustainable concepts. Use my contacts and network to get involvement from C-Lab, STOSS, and other architecture/landscape designers. Open a craft brewery to supplement bell income. First beer line-up: Soleri Birra Lager, Arcology Ale, Hoppie Hippie IPA, Bronze Bell Bitter, Rattlesnake Radler (1/2 lager, 1/2 lemonade).
- Wrap up the stuff with Mason quickly and return to Houston to work exclusively on finding a job in Boston, Houston, or Germany. Fly to Germany as soon as a cheap ticket emerges, and spend 1 month in Germany visiting and looking for work.
Anyway, I decided to change the location to meet Mason- if he wants to become an architect, he'll have to get out of the library anyway. I caught the lightrail down to ASU and discovered a new James Turrel installation there with square enclosure made of metal mesh set into a garden. I sat there and read The Old Gringo for awhile and practiced my Germany on my tablet while waiting for Mason. When he arrived, we walked through the ISTB 2 building which is one of my favorite buildings on campus to get ideas about water and space and catwalks. Afterwards, caught a bus from ASU and mom and Larry came to pick me up from where it dropped me near the house.
Jan 14, 2014
Not another frothy rant about Phoenix? If he dislikes it that much why is he still even here?
Back in Phoenix again. Tay and I went out a few times, including a night on the town where we hit a few more bars to finish our research for the new book: Algiers to Zuma: drinking establishments of interest across the southern US. Here's a sample from downtown Phoenix, Arizona:
Hanny's- a surprisingly vibrant and popular place for downtown Phoenix at night. Established five or six years ago (I remember taking an architecture tour when it opened), in an old men's clothing store of the same name. Sleek, contemporary place with lots of gray leather, concrete, DJ, and some pretty good cocktails. They actually made me a pretty good Aviation. This is the first time in a long time where the color of the drink is blue.
Lustre- is the rooftop bar of the trendy Palomar hotel in the CityScape development at the center of downtown. It is actually, quite lackLustre. It would be more impressive if the rooftop was actually on the roof of the hotel and not just three stories up. And if the bar actually sold good cocktails. Also, I was not impressed after spending ten dollars on a shot of good mezcal to have it served in a plastic shot glass, as was Tay's abysmal cocktail. Really, the only two remarkable things about the bar were that it has such a high popularity and the mix of the people there. There was young and old, black, Latino, and white. Old white hotel guests lounging in sweats and young women in little black dresses.
We were too late to hit RumBar, which is a shame, so we walked over to the art colony houses to Lost Leaf, a house turned into a bar/dance venue, which was packed with very young hipsters. A fun scene, bohemian, with a few good beers on tap.
The Filmore Vig was nearly empty when we got there around 1am. Sidling up to the outdoor bar, we asked our bartender about it, who candidly told us that most people come to the Vig early and then move downtown to places like Crescent Ballroom and Hanny's. We really should have gone the reverse way, and really, I should have known better. Cabbed it home with a driver who told us about picking up race car drivers and taking them to Devil's Martini in Scottsdale.
Mom and Larry are in the process of buying a house, so I got to see it for the home inspection. I think everyone involved was kind of surprised that I liked it. It's not a bad house- the layout is pretty good, it's about the right size, and the yard has the views of the mountains that mom has mandated. Yes, it's a stick and stucco tract house in a manicured HOA subdivision, yes it's liberally coated with fake flagstone, yes, it's supposed to have a vaguely "Mediterranean-Tuscan" feel with the hip roof and clay tile, but hey, this is Phoenix.
Phoenix exists because the two most vibrant cities in the state, Tucson and Prescott with a long history and ties to the surrounding cultures, allied themselves with the losing side of the Civil War. A sleepy backwater hay farm with a few small settlements was selected to carry the capitol as a form of revenge. Nothing really happened until the fortune seekers trying to get to California got stuck here or realized they could keep more of the loot from the swindling here.
The city planners laid out Phoenix in the most rational way they could imagine- rational, of course, meaning "easiest to drive." So we ended up with mile-long superblocks and a rigid grid of seven-lane streets which run for upward of 20 miles.
The fact that Phoenix boomed from nothing in a matter of a few decades meant that the city was wide open for rapid, large-scale development. The wide street grid provided a framework for developers to build residential blocks 200 single family houses at a time, neatly frosted with stucco and a small yard to fulfill the engineered suburban fantasy for the emerging middle class which settled here.
There are a lot, a lot of worse places to live than in Phoenix. It is a very "livable" city by comparison- there is a passable symphony here, sometimes the Opera is good, and it even gets touring shows now and then. When you drive to the grocery store a few miles down the road, it's not expensive. You can sleep and eat in a house which is less expensive than most of the average houses in other cities. There are a few good restaurants. You don't have to shovel snow and the air conditioning keeps your house cool in the summer. If your expectation for a city is the same as your expectations for a La Quinta, it's a perfectly serviceable city.
In my mind, the only two things Phoenix has going for it are the weather (and only a third of the time), and the close proximity of the mountains and desert parks, which is to admit, where the city is not. The best thing about mom's new house is that it is at the very edge of where the city has failed to conquer the mountains.
Hanny's- a surprisingly vibrant and popular place for downtown Phoenix at night. Established five or six years ago (I remember taking an architecture tour when it opened), in an old men's clothing store of the same name. Sleek, contemporary place with lots of gray leather, concrete, DJ, and some pretty good cocktails. They actually made me a pretty good Aviation. This is the first time in a long time where the color of the drink is blue.
Lustre- is the rooftop bar of the trendy Palomar hotel in the CityScape development at the center of downtown. It is actually, quite lackLustre. It would be more impressive if the rooftop was actually on the roof of the hotel and not just three stories up. And if the bar actually sold good cocktails. Also, I was not impressed after spending ten dollars on a shot of good mezcal to have it served in a plastic shot glass, as was Tay's abysmal cocktail. Really, the only two remarkable things about the bar were that it has such a high popularity and the mix of the people there. There was young and old, black, Latino, and white. Old white hotel guests lounging in sweats and young women in little black dresses.
We were too late to hit RumBar, which is a shame, so we walked over to the art colony houses to Lost Leaf, a house turned into a bar/dance venue, which was packed with very young hipsters. A fun scene, bohemian, with a few good beers on tap.
The Filmore Vig was nearly empty when we got there around 1am. Sidling up to the outdoor bar, we asked our bartender about it, who candidly told us that most people come to the Vig early and then move downtown to places like Crescent Ballroom and Hanny's. We really should have gone the reverse way, and really, I should have known better. Cabbed it home with a driver who told us about picking up race car drivers and taking them to Devil's Martini in Scottsdale.
Mom and Larry are in the process of buying a house, so I got to see it for the home inspection. I think everyone involved was kind of surprised that I liked it. It's not a bad house- the layout is pretty good, it's about the right size, and the yard has the views of the mountains that mom has mandated. Yes, it's a stick and stucco tract house in a manicured HOA subdivision, yes it's liberally coated with fake flagstone, yes, it's supposed to have a vaguely "Mediterranean-Tuscan" feel with the hip roof and clay tile, but hey, this is Phoenix.
Phoenix exists because the two most vibrant cities in the state, Tucson and Prescott with a long history and ties to the surrounding cultures, allied themselves with the losing side of the Civil War. A sleepy backwater hay farm with a few small settlements was selected to carry the capitol as a form of revenge. Nothing really happened until the fortune seekers trying to get to California got stuck here or realized they could keep more of the loot from the swindling here.
The city planners laid out Phoenix in the most rational way they could imagine- rational, of course, meaning "easiest to drive." So we ended up with mile-long superblocks and a rigid grid of seven-lane streets which run for upward of 20 miles.
The fact that Phoenix boomed from nothing in a matter of a few decades meant that the city was wide open for rapid, large-scale development. The wide street grid provided a framework for developers to build residential blocks 200 single family houses at a time, neatly frosted with stucco and a small yard to fulfill the engineered suburban fantasy for the emerging middle class which settled here.
There are a lot, a lot of worse places to live than in Phoenix. It is a very "livable" city by comparison- there is a passable symphony here, sometimes the Opera is good, and it even gets touring shows now and then. When you drive to the grocery store a few miles down the road, it's not expensive. You can sleep and eat in a house which is less expensive than most of the average houses in other cities. There are a few good restaurants. You don't have to shovel snow and the air conditioning keeps your house cool in the summer. If your expectation for a city is the same as your expectations for a La Quinta, it's a perfectly serviceable city.
In my mind, the only two things Phoenix has going for it are the weather (and only a third of the time), and the close proximity of the mountains and desert parks, which is to admit, where the city is not. The best thing about mom's new house is that it is at the very edge of where the city has failed to conquer the mountains.
Jan 8, 2014
who is the black man waving around the toothbrush?
Yesterday, I didn't get out of the house. I spent it packing, picking stuff up, making chiles rellenos, and reading. Tay gave me a paperback of Old Mans Wa'r and I finished it in about 24 hours. Apparently I have a soft spot for space cadet sci-fi. This was good, a fun read, definitely lighter than either Heinlein or Hadleman. The only thing is that it's so close to both authors without the social critique punch, that is almost feels like fan fiction. There was a great part early on in the book, when the 75 year old recruits get chewed out on arrival by a sergeant who is highly aware of the trope he his fulfilling. I actually read it out loud.
My last night in Houston, I prepared a Bayless recipe for chiles rellenos with ground beef. There was something not quite right about them, that they lacked a certain cohesiveness or a depth of flavor then when I made them the first time.
I did get the frying much better this time, using a medium flame and really watching the batter as the key indicator of doneness.
The only other change apart from the meat selection was that instead of blistering the chiles in a quick fry of oil, I charred them over an open flame and rubbed of the skins under cold water. Still a pain in the ass to do, but it was easier and less irritating than when I did it before.
Since I'd finished my book, I had to find something else to read on my flight today. I'd seen 12 Years A Slave recently, and it in doing some research on it and other slave narratives, this book kept popping up as nearly required reading in that field. It must have been written in the early 1900s as the author, Mr. Booker T. Washington, was born a slave in 1859.
It's an interesting contrast. Solomon Northrup was thrown into slavery after being raised and living as a free man. Booker T Washington was born into slavery and had to fight incredible odds simply to go to school. Solomon's story is easier to understand- he reacts to slavery as any modern American might. There is this strange alienation I feel towards Washington. He speaks apologetically and even defensively for the white southerner, for slave owner. While he states that all the slaves wished deeply for freedom, he said that he never felt bitter towards them, and indeed, told stories about freed slaves who sent money and bits of food to their former masters who had fallen on hard times.
There is an interesting depiction of the quality of the designed world under slavery: in a world of slavery, labor is becomes degraded because labor is the activity of the slave. Things are shoddily built and not kept up because 1) the slave doesn't care how he does his job- it's not his nor will he get any satisfaction from its completion and 2) slaver Southern whites distanced themselves from any kind of labor and so skills and handicraft and basic knowledge of upkeep were lost.
It's really fascinating to me because its effects were felt through the entire designed environment- the poor quality and taste of the food, the mansions eroding and plaster cracking apart, overgrown plantations, poorly managed.
Washington is a character himself- highly religious, uncomfortable with the idea of racial social equality, an ardent believer in the moral right of capitalism, and convinced that leftists and strikers were simply men who had saved up enough money to declare a vacation for boozing and carousing before going back to work. Also, interestingly, he declares in many places the civilizing influence and importance of dental hygiene. The first students of Tuskegee were required to procure and use a toothbrush and often he had to show them how to use it.
My last night in Houston, I prepared a Bayless recipe for chiles rellenos with ground beef. There was something not quite right about them, that they lacked a certain cohesiveness or a depth of flavor then when I made them the first time.
I did get the frying much better this time, using a medium flame and really watching the batter as the key indicator of doneness.
The only other change apart from the meat selection was that instead of blistering the chiles in a quick fry of oil, I charred them over an open flame and rubbed of the skins under cold water. Still a pain in the ass to do, but it was easier and less irritating than when I did it before.
Since I'd finished my book, I had to find something else to read on my flight today. I'd seen 12 Years A Slave recently, and it in doing some research on it and other slave narratives, this book kept popping up as nearly required reading in that field. It must have been written in the early 1900s as the author, Mr. Booker T. Washington, was born a slave in 1859.
It's an interesting contrast. Solomon Northrup was thrown into slavery after being raised and living as a free man. Booker T Washington was born into slavery and had to fight incredible odds simply to go to school. Solomon's story is easier to understand- he reacts to slavery as any modern American might. There is this strange alienation I feel towards Washington. He speaks apologetically and even defensively for the white southerner, for slave owner. While he states that all the slaves wished deeply for freedom, he said that he never felt bitter towards them, and indeed, told stories about freed slaves who sent money and bits of food to their former masters who had fallen on hard times.
There is an interesting depiction of the quality of the designed world under slavery: in a world of slavery, labor is becomes degraded because labor is the activity of the slave. Things are shoddily built and not kept up because 1) the slave doesn't care how he does his job- it's not his nor will he get any satisfaction from its completion and 2) slaver Southern whites distanced themselves from any kind of labor and so skills and handicraft and basic knowledge of upkeep were lost.
It's really fascinating to me because its effects were felt through the entire designed environment- the poor quality and taste of the food, the mansions eroding and plaster cracking apart, overgrown plantations, poorly managed.
Washington is a character himself- highly religious, uncomfortable with the idea of racial social equality, an ardent believer in the moral right of capitalism, and convinced that leftists and strikers were simply men who had saved up enough money to declare a vacation for boozing and carousing before going back to work. Also, interestingly, he declares in many places the civilizing influence and importance of dental hygiene. The first students of Tuskegee were required to procure and use a toothbrush and often he had to show them how to use it.
Jan 6, 2014
Max's Swan Dive
My family is very type A. My dad got his start as a chemical engineer, and my mom and brother are both in law. I am, by comparison, a stoned baja california surfer. So I always try to over-communicate and clarify to set expectations.
So when dad joined me for a walk to the bayou, I tried to set some expectations. It's a long way, I told him, a bit nervously. We could take the car and park nearby.
We were already walking at this point and dad was trying to humor me, so we walked. It's actually 1.7 miles to the edge of Memorial Park where I wanted to dive into the bayou park. A long walk, even for me, and a very long walk for dad.
He was a trooper though and once we were immersed in the boggy back trails of the park, we slowed down to meandering walk and watched for birds. We ended up walking about five miles or so. Saw some more ladder back woodpeckers, a few more tufted titmice, and a bird I still haven't identified yet.
As part of the lighter dining, dad made fish with red bean salsa, which was very good.
Today, I got up early and walked down to Inversion coffee shop, where I sat down to face up to trying to figure out a path forward. Cold morning with the very tail end of the "arctic vortex" (New flavor, Mountain Dew?) which plunged temperatures all the way down to a degree below freezing.
I walked next door to the Texas Art Supply store and picked up some blank cards to assemble my hand of cards. I'm so tired of all this. I am sitting in the sargasso sea of my life, and whenever you're stuck, the thing to do is try to look at the problem from a different angle and look at the problem another way. I make a hand of cards- cards representing assets, obligations, 'missions', other factors. It's somewhere between Magic The Gathering and a self-help manual.
Anyway, today I helped Neri take down the Christmas decorations, and then we went grocery shopping. I'm making them chiles rellenos tomorrow, and its such a pain in the ass dish, I choose to make over two days.
Dad took us out to Max's Wine Bar for dinner tonight. A surprising place. The clientele was about my age, or younger, and the place was incredibly loud. On top there was a guitarist blasting out my generational tunes (Lumineers, anyone?) ratcheting up the volume. I didn't realize that wine was making such a comeback in people my age. Must be a Houston thing. Not a cheap place either.
Seeing these people my age there, with jobs, with local friends, going on dates with their significant others, it was a painful reminder of my own state in the wind as a House Hobbit. Discomfort is an incentive to change.
So when dad joined me for a walk to the bayou, I tried to set some expectations. It's a long way, I told him, a bit nervously. We could take the car and park nearby.
We were already walking at this point and dad was trying to humor me, so we walked. It's actually 1.7 miles to the edge of Memorial Park where I wanted to dive into the bayou park. A long walk, even for me, and a very long walk for dad.
He was a trooper though and once we were immersed in the boggy back trails of the park, we slowed down to meandering walk and watched for birds. We ended up walking about five miles or so. Saw some more ladder back woodpeckers, a few more tufted titmice, and a bird I still haven't identified yet.
As part of the lighter dining, dad made fish with red bean salsa, which was very good.
Today, I got up early and walked down to Inversion coffee shop, where I sat down to face up to trying to figure out a path forward. Cold morning with the very tail end of the "arctic vortex" (New flavor, Mountain Dew?) which plunged temperatures all the way down to a degree below freezing.
I walked next door to the Texas Art Supply store and picked up some blank cards to assemble my hand of cards. I'm so tired of all this. I am sitting in the sargasso sea of my life, and whenever you're stuck, the thing to do is try to look at the problem from a different angle and look at the problem another way. I make a hand of cards- cards representing assets, obligations, 'missions', other factors. It's somewhere between Magic The Gathering and a self-help manual.
Anyway, today I helped Neri take down the Christmas decorations, and then we went grocery shopping. I'm making them chiles rellenos tomorrow, and its such a pain in the ass dish, I choose to make over two days.
Dad took us out to Max's Wine Bar for dinner tonight. A surprising place. The clientele was about my age, or younger, and the place was incredibly loud. On top there was a guitarist blasting out my generational tunes (Lumineers, anyone?) ratcheting up the volume. I didn't realize that wine was making such a comeback in people my age. Must be a Houston thing. Not a cheap place either.
Seeing these people my age there, with jobs, with local friends, going on dates with their significant others, it was a painful reminder of my own state in the wind as a House Hobbit. Discomfort is an incentive to change.
Jan 5, 2014
The End of Hitler
Finally finished Rise and Fall of the Third Reich today. What a book! Not without its biases and faults, but worthy of consideration. And what a shattering conclusion to the saga, the drama in the bunker, Hitlers horrifying decisions that the rest of Germany should die with him.
There are still instructive lessons about Hitler's downfall: stay grounded in reality, keep your attention on the main objective don't make everything revolve around you, realize your limitations, and fall back when you need to.
It is difficult not to play what-if games looking back at the history of the Nazi Germany. Had Hitler made some different strategic decisions like a stronger alliance with Russia which would have bought him the materials and time to get his jets in the air, then it would have been a bloody fight for the UK with easy air superiority. The combined forces of Stalin and Hitler would probably have been too strong for a decisive American victory, and at any rate, the Japanese generals were out for war anyway, further weakening the ability of the Americans to fight on two fronts. If the UK fell, then it seems likely to me that under occupation, the leadership of the UK would have had to consent to Nazi rule of most of Europe in exchange for peace, and that the US would have also to respect this position.
All the while, the pogrom to annihilate the Jews would have continued and intensified, the Slavs and Poles would have been enslaved and the countries turned to massive feudal estates. With the advanced technology such as jet fighters, early ICBMs, and early development towards the atomic bomb, Hitler, having satisfied himself with Europe, would be impossible to attack. The only real chance of regime change would then have to be internal- rebellion from the enslaved peoples.
But in the end, Hitler made several astoundingly bad strategic choices. He elected to start a war with the Soviet Union, and he also chose to declare war on the United States, and both of these decisions were within a few months of each other. He was a terrible military strategist, but a brilliant political strategist in the realm of continental Europe. He didn't really understand the British, and he completely failed to understand the Americans either.
Anyway, watched Downfall tonight which is apropo as it re-enacts with high accuracy the morbid and macabre last few days in Hitler's bunker in Berlin. A good movie, but predictably gloomy with some particularly hard to watch scenes.
I'm happy to be done with this book. Time to download something a bit more light-hearted.
There are still instructive lessons about Hitler's downfall: stay grounded in reality, keep your attention on the main objective don't make everything revolve around you, realize your limitations, and fall back when you need to.
It is difficult not to play what-if games looking back at the history of the Nazi Germany. Had Hitler made some different strategic decisions like a stronger alliance with Russia which would have bought him the materials and time to get his jets in the air, then it would have been a bloody fight for the UK with easy air superiority. The combined forces of Stalin and Hitler would probably have been too strong for a decisive American victory, and at any rate, the Japanese generals were out for war anyway, further weakening the ability of the Americans to fight on two fronts. If the UK fell, then it seems likely to me that under occupation, the leadership of the UK would have had to consent to Nazi rule of most of Europe in exchange for peace, and that the US would have also to respect this position.
All the while, the pogrom to annihilate the Jews would have continued and intensified, the Slavs and Poles would have been enslaved and the countries turned to massive feudal estates. With the advanced technology such as jet fighters, early ICBMs, and early development towards the atomic bomb, Hitler, having satisfied himself with Europe, would be impossible to attack. The only real chance of regime change would then have to be internal- rebellion from the enslaved peoples.
But in the end, Hitler made several astoundingly bad strategic choices. He elected to start a war with the Soviet Union, and he also chose to declare war on the United States, and both of these decisions were within a few months of each other. He was a terrible military strategist, but a brilliant political strategist in the realm of continental Europe. He didn't really understand the British, and he completely failed to understand the Americans either.
Anyway, watched Downfall tonight which is apropo as it re-enacts with high accuracy the morbid and macabre last few days in Hitler's bunker in Berlin. A good movie, but predictably gloomy with some particularly hard to watch scenes.
I'm happy to be done with this book. Time to download something a bit more light-hearted.
Jan 4, 2014
Bloodbath on the Bayou
Today we made a trip out to see the San Jacinto Monument. This monument is taller than the Washington Monument in DC and is actually one of the tallest of its kind in the world. What it commemorates, if you read the inscription around the side of the star-tipped obelisk, is trifold- the victory in the battle, the successful conclusion of Texas' war for independence from Mexico, and the establishment of a path leading to the acquisition of the treaty of Hidalgo lands.
Looking at each part of the three, I am filled with disgust and shame. In the battle of San Jacinto, a sneak attack was launched and destroyed the Mexican's ability to fight within the first 18 minutes. Thereupon, there was a wholesale slaughter of Mexicans by the Texans as they were driven into the marshes and river. When only 9 Texans lost their lives to the 630 Mexicans who died, it's a unrestrained bloodbath of revenge.
I am not unmindful of the siege of the Alamo, or the massacre of 300+ Texan militiamen in cold blood by Santa Anna's troops at Goliad. However, there was not even an attempt made to restrain the troops here. 'Texans' as they aspired to be, were in fact Americans mixed with a few Europeans.
The second great victory, a free Republic of Texas, was in fact, not so free, and was so loaded by debts that the only solution for solvency was to be promptly annexed by the United States, which was incredibly convenient for all involved. It saved the US from having to steal Texas outright from Mexico.
The third commemoration is a tenuous one at best. Once Texas was free, it joined the US, and then the US was free to 'clarify' its position with Mexico via a war that the US provoked at the Rio Grande. After a truly quick war and occupation of the Mexican Capital, the US sat down with Santa Anna once again. Santa Anna, enemy of the US and traitor to Mexico, was compelled to give away half of Mexico in exchange for a tidy sum of money and a mansion in the Hamptons. The US achieved their 'Manifest Destiny' from coast to coast, and while its a bit of a stretch to say that the battle of San Jacinto led directly to it, I wonder why they would make that stretch to something that historically come to be seen as the theft of the century.
I'm making too big a deal out of it, I'm sure. I'm sure that most Texans probably revere San Jacinto as a battle which allowed them to be Texans and Americans, the political results, and quickly gloss over the less pleasant parts.
When you really get down to it, most monuments, with perhaps the exclusion of individual funerary monuments, are homages to bloodlust and domination.
Looking at each part of the three, I am filled with disgust and shame. In the battle of San Jacinto, a sneak attack was launched and destroyed the Mexican's ability to fight within the first 18 minutes. Thereupon, there was a wholesale slaughter of Mexicans by the Texans as they were driven into the marshes and river. When only 9 Texans lost their lives to the 630 Mexicans who died, it's a unrestrained bloodbath of revenge.
I am not unmindful of the siege of the Alamo, or the massacre of 300+ Texan militiamen in cold blood by Santa Anna's troops at Goliad. However, there was not even an attempt made to restrain the troops here. 'Texans' as they aspired to be, were in fact Americans mixed with a few Europeans.
The second great victory, a free Republic of Texas, was in fact, not so free, and was so loaded by debts that the only solution for solvency was to be promptly annexed by the United States, which was incredibly convenient for all involved. It saved the US from having to steal Texas outright from Mexico.
The third commemoration is a tenuous one at best. Once Texas was free, it joined the US, and then the US was free to 'clarify' its position with Mexico via a war that the US provoked at the Rio Grande. After a truly quick war and occupation of the Mexican Capital, the US sat down with Santa Anna once again. Santa Anna, enemy of the US and traitor to Mexico, was compelled to give away half of Mexico in exchange for a tidy sum of money and a mansion in the Hamptons. The US achieved their 'Manifest Destiny' from coast to coast, and while its a bit of a stretch to say that the battle of San Jacinto led directly to it, I wonder why they would make that stretch to something that historically come to be seen as the theft of the century.
I'm making too big a deal out of it, I'm sure. I'm sure that most Texans probably revere San Jacinto as a battle which allowed them to be Texans and Americans, the political results, and quickly gloss over the less pleasant parts.
When you really get down to it, most monuments, with perhaps the exclusion of individual funerary monuments, are homages to bloodlust and domination.
fifteen
Over the Christmas holiday, Tay and I managed to hit 15 bars in 13 days between Houston and San Antonio. Here's a quick run down of the bars:
The Local Pour- An upscale bar in a strip mall with valet parking, the entire place was designed to feel like a futuristic prohibition era train depot. Rusty metal hardware, lots of wood, and metallic teal leather. Wooden barrels abounded. An ok list of cocktails but more of a tap house and wine bar with about a dozen beers on tap.
Pastry War- A very trendy and relatively new spot in downtown Houston, actually a 'mezcaleria/tequileria.' It's the bar I wish I'd gone to sober. It was a hopping, happening place with a really young clientele, a great Mezcal and Sotol and Tequila menu and poppy blue colors. We ordered the house margaritas. Behind the bar was a big sign explaining that it was their pleasure to NOT serve Jose Cuervo, 1800, Patron, or other giant label mediocre tequila. We sat on a table (the chairs were taken, nobody noticed or cared), talked, worked on our margaritas, and watched drunk people play pool.
Double Trouble- Double Trouble traffics in both caffeine and alcohol- it's an espresso bar and cocktail bar rolled in a Tiki bar wrapper. It was part of a row of buildings which were like an island in midtown. A bohemian/hipster oasis. Tay and I each ordered a rum tiki drink with pineapple called FifteenHundredDollarsAndTwoWeeks, and a rye whisky drink with grapefruit they called JazzHands. We sat outside on the patio and enjoyed our drinks in the mild weather.
Okra Charity House- a bar located in an old alley between two buildings which had been covered over with a glass and wood canopy to enclose it. It's actually a really cool space with a circular bar in the middle, and I'm really not doing it justice by describing it as a covered alley.
La Carafe- is a narrow little bar with an upstairs and a downstairs in one of the oldest buildings in the city, built around the 1840s. Dimly lit, with an ancient wooden bar, candles, and a wall of Victorian paintings, black and white portraits, and darrageutypes, it feels somewhere between a pirate bar and western saloon. The bar is cash only- the bartender rings up sales in an ornate brass cash register which must be at least seven decades old. Oddly, it's best known as a wine bar, although they had a great selection of craft beer in bottles. We had three beers apiece there, one of which were these great IPAs from Brooklyn called Six Points Bengali Tiger. Strong stuff, I might add. Tay noticed that they'd opened the upstairs which only happens on weekend nights after 9pm, so we went out to the small outdoor balcony and got another beer. They were out of tables, but the bartender told us we could drag some chairs out there, so we did. It was just a nice place to sit and drink and look at the lights of the city from this intimate old bar.
Nouveau Art Bar- My memory is a bit hazy, but I remember we ordered Aviators (pink! why are they all pink? It's supposed to be a blue drink!). The bar was big, and filled with Tiffany style lamps and art glass chandeliers. Actually, the overall effect was more of a lighting showroom with a bar.
The Menger- is the bar of Menger Hotel, an pedegreed hotel, one of the oldest in the city, but definitely a faded glory institution. The small wood bar felt small and wasn't particularly well stocked or nicely appointed. However, it was steeped in history, most notably as the location where Teddy Roosevelt recruited the rough riders for the Cuban campaign in the Spanish-American war. Lots of old photos and memorabilia. If I was a huge history buff or particularly interested in Teddy R, then maybe it would have all been more compelling.
SoHo Wine & Martini Bar- A small bar in in an old bank, it has a local hipster feel, not too far from the boardwalk. Comfortable, understated, almost to the point of forgettable except for the massive open safe vault which is apparently used as a storeroom. Definitely a cocktail bar.
The Brooklynite- A very young crowd, dimly lit, modern, and supposed to evoke the feeling of NY in San Antonio. A very cocktail oriented place where I chatted with the bartender about the origins and correct methodology of making a Moscow Mule.
Esquire- was an old bar which was renovated in 2011 and repackaged as an old (hipster) cocktail bar complete with a staggering array of alcohol, shop-made ginger ale, and Edison bulbs. It's actually a pretty cool place with a very long old wood bar.
The Tasting Room- This is one of dad's typical haunts, a wine bar with a large wrap around patio close to the Bayou. I didn't go inside, but it was the kind of place to just go to hang out, enjoy a glass or two. Less than stellar service and a clientele which is accustomed to getting stellar service. Interestingly, I spotted mom's old friend Ivette there, who is nearly unmistakable with her Amazonian looks. Apparently, she is also a regular customer.
The Anvil Bar & Refuge- Run by the same group which created The Pastry War, this is a warm woodsy-industrial cocktail bar. Easily the longest list of cocktails on the menu of any place we visited. There are, astoundingly, 100 cocktails on their happy hour list, conveniently sorted by type of drink, and all half off.
The Rosemont Social Club- Not really a social club, it's a two-story bar with an open roof terrace with cabanas (but not for you, these are the VIP tables). It's the kind of place you bring your escorts to be noticed by other people. I was not impressed with the waitresses or bar staff- when I ordered a Hemingway Daiquiri, they told me they were out of Hemingway.
Sambuca- Not exclusively a bar, but with a heavy bar/lounge component. Good food, good service, decent live music, upscale setting with many, many tables. A safe bet. If I were mayor, I'd probably be here often with my security entourage.
Leon's Lounge- This was kind of a cool place. Not pretentious at all, just felt unchanged from when it opened many years ago. This bar, is actually, the oldest continuously operating bar in Houston. The bar is filled with antiques and especially antique radios. The music is actually provided by a record player spinning old scratchy LPs. Marble tile bar. Tay and I both ordered really stiff drinks- Scotch and Sazerac. It fit the place.
The Local Pour- An upscale bar in a strip mall with valet parking, the entire place was designed to feel like a futuristic prohibition era train depot. Rusty metal hardware, lots of wood, and metallic teal leather. Wooden barrels abounded. An ok list of cocktails but more of a tap house and wine bar with about a dozen beers on tap.
Pastry War- A very trendy and relatively new spot in downtown Houston, actually a 'mezcaleria/tequileria.' It's the bar I wish I'd gone to sober. It was a hopping, happening place with a really young clientele, a great Mezcal and Sotol and Tequila menu and poppy blue colors. We ordered the house margaritas. Behind the bar was a big sign explaining that it was their pleasure to NOT serve Jose Cuervo, 1800, Patron, or other giant label mediocre tequila. We sat on a table (the chairs were taken, nobody noticed or cared), talked, worked on our margaritas, and watched drunk people play pool.
Double Trouble- Double Trouble traffics in both caffeine and alcohol- it's an espresso bar and cocktail bar rolled in a Tiki bar wrapper. It was part of a row of buildings which were like an island in midtown. A bohemian/hipster oasis. Tay and I each ordered a rum tiki drink with pineapple called FifteenHundredDollarsAndTwoWeeks, and a rye whisky drink with grapefruit they called JazzHands. We sat outside on the patio and enjoyed our drinks in the mild weather.
Okra Charity House- a bar located in an old alley between two buildings which had been covered over with a glass and wood canopy to enclose it. It's actually a really cool space with a circular bar in the middle, and I'm really not doing it justice by describing it as a covered alley.
La Carafe- is a narrow little bar with an upstairs and a downstairs in one of the oldest buildings in the city, built around the 1840s. Dimly lit, with an ancient wooden bar, candles, and a wall of Victorian paintings, black and white portraits, and darrageutypes, it feels somewhere between a pirate bar and western saloon. The bar is cash only- the bartender rings up sales in an ornate brass cash register which must be at least seven decades old. Oddly, it's best known as a wine bar, although they had a great selection of craft beer in bottles. We had three beers apiece there, one of which were these great IPAs from Brooklyn called Six Points Bengali Tiger. Strong stuff, I might add. Tay noticed that they'd opened the upstairs which only happens on weekend nights after 9pm, so we went out to the small outdoor balcony and got another beer. They were out of tables, but the bartender told us we could drag some chairs out there, so we did. It was just a nice place to sit and drink and look at the lights of the city from this intimate old bar.
Nouveau Art Bar- My memory is a bit hazy, but I remember we ordered Aviators (pink! why are they all pink? It's supposed to be a blue drink!). The bar was big, and filled with Tiffany style lamps and art glass chandeliers. Actually, the overall effect was more of a lighting showroom with a bar.
The Menger- is the bar of Menger Hotel, an pedegreed hotel, one of the oldest in the city, but definitely a faded glory institution. The small wood bar felt small and wasn't particularly well stocked or nicely appointed. However, it was steeped in history, most notably as the location where Teddy Roosevelt recruited the rough riders for the Cuban campaign in the Spanish-American war. Lots of old photos and memorabilia. If I was a huge history buff or particularly interested in Teddy R, then maybe it would have all been more compelling.
SoHo Wine & Martini Bar- A small bar in in an old bank, it has a local hipster feel, not too far from the boardwalk. Comfortable, understated, almost to the point of forgettable except for the massive open safe vault which is apparently used as a storeroom. Definitely a cocktail bar.
The Brooklynite- A very young crowd, dimly lit, modern, and supposed to evoke the feeling of NY in San Antonio. A very cocktail oriented place where I chatted with the bartender about the origins and correct methodology of making a Moscow Mule.
Esquire- was an old bar which was renovated in 2011 and repackaged as an old (hipster) cocktail bar complete with a staggering array of alcohol, shop-made ginger ale, and Edison bulbs. It's actually a pretty cool place with a very long old wood bar.
The Tasting Room- This is one of dad's typical haunts, a wine bar with a large wrap around patio close to the Bayou. I didn't go inside, but it was the kind of place to just go to hang out, enjoy a glass or two. Less than stellar service and a clientele which is accustomed to getting stellar service. Interestingly, I spotted mom's old friend Ivette there, who is nearly unmistakable with her Amazonian looks. Apparently, she is also a regular customer.
The Anvil Bar & Refuge- Run by the same group which created The Pastry War, this is a warm woodsy-industrial cocktail bar. Easily the longest list of cocktails on the menu of any place we visited. There are, astoundingly, 100 cocktails on their happy hour list, conveniently sorted by type of drink, and all half off.
The Rosemont Social Club- Not really a social club, it's a two-story bar with an open roof terrace with cabanas (but not for you, these are the VIP tables). It's the kind of place you bring your escorts to be noticed by other people. I was not impressed with the waitresses or bar staff- when I ordered a Hemingway Daiquiri, they told me they were out of Hemingway.
Sambuca- Not exclusively a bar, but with a heavy bar/lounge component. Good food, good service, decent live music, upscale setting with many, many tables. A safe bet. If I were mayor, I'd probably be here often with my security entourage.
Leon's Lounge- This was kind of a cool place. Not pretentious at all, just felt unchanged from when it opened many years ago. This bar, is actually, the oldest continuously operating bar in Houston. The bar is filled with antiques and especially antique radios. The music is actually provided by a record player spinning old scratchy LPs. Marble tile bar. Tay and I both ordered really stiff drinks- Scotch and Sazerac. It fit the place.
Jan 3, 2014
Sports
I think that once I understand sports fans, then I will understand people a lot more.
I can kind of understand the appeal of sports as spectacle entertainment. People exhibiting feats of strength, speed, or strategy. I don't think that can account for the widespread appeal of sports though.
I don't even even think that it's a surrogate outlet for aggression, just to see people pummeling each other in a mock battle. There's more than enough violence in media or stock car racing.
You take a rational human being and show him a group of individuals, many of whom come from different places, who will only be on the team a year or two, and who are even led by coaches who are usually transplants and may have even recently coached opposing teams, and this person will express devotion and loyalty to this team simply because they wear the local colors and signs.
Imagine during WWII that the American Army replaced it's soldiers with a mixture of Italian, French, and Nazi Germans. Imagine further that Eisenhower was replaced by Rommel as commanding four star general.
Maybe it's a bad analogy, maybe it's more like a corporate brand, like Ford replacing it's workers with ex-Hyundai or its management with the Subaru. I don't think people would really care. As in sports, the consistency of the brand seems to be the main concern. Did people stop buying Apple products after Apple fired Steve Jobs, or even after he died?
Which is odd because in sports there's not much to hang a brand on. No quality of the product, no lifestyle aspirations. No one wears a Red Sox hat because they make such great hats. Nobody has a Saints decal because they aspire to a Saints fan lifestyle.
There's not much brand beyond the uniform, fixity to a particular place, and maybe a team tradition. Of those, the only thing I can understand is the fixity of place. A local team is a mascot of a place, a representation (fair or not) of the town and by extension, the populace.
I can understand it better in the cases where sports is the only reason to ever hear of a town. When Mudtown's Mudfish lose to the Hayville Tumbleweeds over in Bison Head, it's the talk of Sticks County. (And boy, it is a bad week for those people of Mudtown!) So those Mudtowners need to shell out the big bucks to buy a quarterback who can throw past his feet and buy a team to make the town proud.
As far as tradition goes, the only one that seems to attract a following is losing, as in the team which continually sucks so bad, year after year as to make it endearing.
One reason people get emotionally attached to teams because it enhances the stakes and feelings of involvement. If I'm watching Cornshuck play Cottonpick and I don't care about either team, then I'm probably missing out on half the entertainment value. Actually, its rare for me to be entirely neural. I always find myself rooting for one team or the other, often arbitrarily, precisely to artificially boost my interest in the game.
Actually, I think the main reason does go back to place. That feeling you get when you wear your 'Muddy' the Mudville Mudfish shirt, of belonging. The idea of the team, the brand, is beyond the players, it belongs to the town. And when you root for the Mudfish, it makes you feel like you are a part of the town.
That's actually a good thing. If you feel like you are a part of a community, you feel invested in it. You are much more willing to fight for something you have in a stake in. Strong and resilient communities are sustainable communities.
The more I think about it, the more I think that the local team is really an avatar. Something keeps the town a town, coherent. Maybe it's a series of relationships, a group of employers, a farmers collective, a common aim, a particular religion, or set of cultural values. The team acts as a tangible thing to pin all that stuff on which is hard to articulate or even define. It's a reminder to that community of why they are a community in the first place.
I would imagine that when neighboring Hayvillans fight, that they can both still agree that the Tumbleweeds are far superior to the Mudfish.
So I guess I kind of get it, although at the end of the day, it still comes back to the 'us vs them' mentality. Its a dangerous and false paradigm, especially when you start to look at the big picture of things. In a drought, the entire Sticks County is screwed, regardless of whose hat you're wearing.
(Go Sooners!)
I can kind of understand the appeal of sports as spectacle entertainment. People exhibiting feats of strength, speed, or strategy. I don't think that can account for the widespread appeal of sports though.
I don't even even think that it's a surrogate outlet for aggression, just to see people pummeling each other in a mock battle. There's more than enough violence in media or stock car racing.
You take a rational human being and show him a group of individuals, many of whom come from different places, who will only be on the team a year or two, and who are even led by coaches who are usually transplants and may have even recently coached opposing teams, and this person will express devotion and loyalty to this team simply because they wear the local colors and signs.
Imagine during WWII that the American Army replaced it's soldiers with a mixture of Italian, French, and Nazi Germans. Imagine further that Eisenhower was replaced by Rommel as commanding four star general.
Maybe it's a bad analogy, maybe it's more like a corporate brand, like Ford replacing it's workers with ex-Hyundai or its management with the Subaru. I don't think people would really care. As in sports, the consistency of the brand seems to be the main concern. Did people stop buying Apple products after Apple fired Steve Jobs, or even after he died?
Which is odd because in sports there's not much to hang a brand on. No quality of the product, no lifestyle aspirations. No one wears a Red Sox hat because they make such great hats. Nobody has a Saints decal because they aspire to a Saints fan lifestyle.
There's not much brand beyond the uniform, fixity to a particular place, and maybe a team tradition. Of those, the only thing I can understand is the fixity of place. A local team is a mascot of a place, a representation (fair or not) of the town and by extension, the populace.
I can understand it better in the cases where sports is the only reason to ever hear of a town. When Mudtown's Mudfish lose to the Hayville Tumbleweeds over in Bison Head, it's the talk of Sticks County. (And boy, it is a bad week for those people of Mudtown!) So those Mudtowners need to shell out the big bucks to buy a quarterback who can throw past his feet and buy a team to make the town proud.
As far as tradition goes, the only one that seems to attract a following is losing, as in the team which continually sucks so bad, year after year as to make it endearing.
One reason people get emotionally attached to teams because it enhances the stakes and feelings of involvement. If I'm watching Cornshuck play Cottonpick and I don't care about either team, then I'm probably missing out on half the entertainment value. Actually, its rare for me to be entirely neural. I always find myself rooting for one team or the other, often arbitrarily, precisely to artificially boost my interest in the game.
Actually, I think the main reason does go back to place. That feeling you get when you wear your 'Muddy' the Mudville Mudfish shirt, of belonging. The idea of the team, the brand, is beyond the players, it belongs to the town. And when you root for the Mudfish, it makes you feel like you are a part of the town.
That's actually a good thing. If you feel like you are a part of a community, you feel invested in it. You are much more willing to fight for something you have in a stake in. Strong and resilient communities are sustainable communities.
The more I think about it, the more I think that the local team is really an avatar. Something keeps the town a town, coherent. Maybe it's a series of relationships, a group of employers, a farmers collective, a common aim, a particular religion, or set of cultural values. The team acts as a tangible thing to pin all that stuff on which is hard to articulate or even define. It's a reminder to that community of why they are a community in the first place.
I would imagine that when neighboring Hayvillans fight, that they can both still agree that the Tumbleweeds are far superior to the Mudfish.
So I guess I kind of get it, although at the end of the day, it still comes back to the 'us vs them' mentality. Its a dangerous and false paradigm, especially when you start to look at the big picture of things. In a drought, the entire Sticks County is screwed, regardless of whose hat you're wearing.
(Go Sooners!)
Jan 1, 2014
Abu Dhouston
Yesterday I ended up walking/hiking for about four or five hours, most of it spent slowly working my way through game trails along the buffalo bayou not far from dad's house. The reserve and parks around it are quite lush and once you get off the regular running and biking tracks, you can imagine yourself deep in backcountry as you approach the bayou waterway.
The waterway itself is kind of nasty. The slow moving water is filled with sediment, and the flatlands near the bayou are swampy and marshy mud. And of course, the opposite bank, not part of the reserve, is invariably the back end of a stucco mansion, restaurant, golf course, or luxury condominium.
There are aspects of Houston which make it feel like Abu Dhabi. Part of this, I'm sure, comes from the neighborhoods where I spend most of my time. Lexuses are a dime a dozen. Audis outnumber Toyotas. Every other car is a BMW. Even the counter service taco shops have valet parking. I have never seen more hand car wash businesses in my life. It feels like a city of multimillionaires and the businesses which cater to them.
I am not St. Francis of Assisi. I enjoy a little luxury. Give me a FourSeasons over the Motel 6 any day of the week. I'll have the real Champagne, please. Valet parking is kind of a kick. It is definitely nice to live it up once in awhile. What gets a bit absurd to me is that there seems to be an endless one-upmanship in terms of luxury here and I can't help but giggle at people trying to shoehorn Paris or New York or Dubai into Houston, Texas.
Oftentimes, there are comical results when the old city meets the new money. Traffic jams at the Starbucks and car wash. Frustrated drivers in sports cars who gun it like a drag race because 99% of the time they're stuck in the thick traffic in the old and narrow streets. Difficulty in maintaining stock of fresh seafood at the upscale grocery, or even finding parking. A dozen squished 4000 square foot French chateaus jammed into subdivided lots which once held four single story bungalows (the density is successful- trying to make it feel like Versailles, not so much).
Anyway, 80% done with The Rise and the Fall of the Third Reich. Today, I kind of hit a stumbling block, and had to put the book down a few times. I'm a pretty hardened reader. I tend to stay on top of the news which is usually a litany of the worst things people can do to each other. The section I'm reading now deals with the New Order, specifically life in the conquered lands and the attempted annihilation of all the Jews. It's awful, horrifying reading. I finished a few stomach-turning chapters, looked at the title of the next chapter, "Medical Experiments," and had to go do something else for a few hours before reluctantly picking it up again.
I read Solzhenitzn's weighty The Gulag Archipelago in 10th grade. That's a dark fucking book. This is the darkest thing I've read since then. There is something about regimes like under Stalin and Hitler, where the only thing more horrifying than the injustice, savagery, and horrors inflicted on populations is the suggestion that we are all capable of inflicting them.
Cheerful reading for the start of a new year.
The waterway itself is kind of nasty. The slow moving water is filled with sediment, and the flatlands near the bayou are swampy and marshy mud. And of course, the opposite bank, not part of the reserve, is invariably the back end of a stucco mansion, restaurant, golf course, or luxury condominium.
There are aspects of Houston which make it feel like Abu Dhabi. Part of this, I'm sure, comes from the neighborhoods where I spend most of my time. Lexuses are a dime a dozen. Audis outnumber Toyotas. Every other car is a BMW. Even the counter service taco shops have valet parking. I have never seen more hand car wash businesses in my life. It feels like a city of multimillionaires and the businesses which cater to them.
I am not St. Francis of Assisi. I enjoy a little luxury. Give me a FourSeasons over the Motel 6 any day of the week. I'll have the real Champagne, please. Valet parking is kind of a kick. It is definitely nice to live it up once in awhile. What gets a bit absurd to me is that there seems to be an endless one-upmanship in terms of luxury here and I can't help but giggle at people trying to shoehorn Paris or New York or Dubai into Houston, Texas.
Oftentimes, there are comical results when the old city meets the new money. Traffic jams at the Starbucks and car wash. Frustrated drivers in sports cars who gun it like a drag race because 99% of the time they're stuck in the thick traffic in the old and narrow streets. Difficulty in maintaining stock of fresh seafood at the upscale grocery, or even finding parking. A dozen squished 4000 square foot French chateaus jammed into subdivided lots which once held four single story bungalows (the density is successful- trying to make it feel like Versailles, not so much).
Anyway, 80% done with The Rise and the Fall of the Third Reich. Today, I kind of hit a stumbling block, and had to put the book down a few times. I'm a pretty hardened reader. I tend to stay on top of the news which is usually a litany of the worst things people can do to each other. The section I'm reading now deals with the New Order, specifically life in the conquered lands and the attempted annihilation of all the Jews. It's awful, horrifying reading. I finished a few stomach-turning chapters, looked at the title of the next chapter, "Medical Experiments," and had to go do something else for a few hours before reluctantly picking it up again.
I read Solzhenitzn's weighty The Gulag Archipelago in 10th grade. That's a dark fucking book. This is the darkest thing I've read since then. There is something about regimes like under Stalin and Hitler, where the only thing more horrifying than the injustice, savagery, and horrors inflicted on populations is the suggestion that we are all capable of inflicting them.
Cheerful reading for the start of a new year.
There is Absolutely No Truth to Allegations of New Years Revelry
People of the internet! Listen: I had a quiet new years eve at home. I would like to state that I had nothing at all to do with the wild party which engulfed three blocks of east Houston last night. The stretch Hummer limo filled with empty jeroboams of Mumms is entirely apocryphal. There are, to my knowledge, no photographs of my person in or near an illegal dance party on the roof of the BP tower. I challenge anyone to produce a witness who will testify that I was a member of the masked group of nude revelers who later that evening paraded through Rice University with various fireworks. And despite whatever you may read on Facebook, I was not at a swamp gator BBQ and moonshine punch bonfire. You can ask my father, we had a quiet dinner at home, and we were all in bed by 10pm. I swear.
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