— unpredictable thoughts

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It has become a sci­ence fic­tion dream to me. I can­not say I ever thought I would see and feel these tem­per­a­tures. These tem­per­a­tures are those of my vis­its to the desert and hik­ing the canyons of New Mex­ico. I imag­ine the scrub bushes and the dry runoff streams. I taste the red dust on my lips. Then I am jolted back to real­ity. My sense of place is askew. Our planet is so con­fused. It’s 104°.

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A spe­cial gift for my dad.

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From out­side the color draws me like a bea­con. When inside color washes over my body and it changes as I move from one place to another. I’m orange. I’m blue. When I chase the light and it chases me. That expe­ri­ence is the Mon­treal Con­ven­tion Center.

When I hear the words con­ven­tion cen­ter I cringe. I have expe­ri­enced many a con­ven­tion cen­ter and they are unin­spired spaces. They have very lit­tle if any energy of their own. Vis­i­tors come and go but the build­ings and spaces cre­ated inside are dead except for the mechan­i­cal drone of HVAC or esca­la­tors. Some of the build­ings focus are indus­trial, some mon­u­men­tal, oth­ers over­grown shop­ping malls.

Why is it that our gov­ern­ment build­ings are so unin­spir­ing? Is it our cul­ture? Is it because we some­how think that our tax dol­lars and neigh­bor­hoods don’t deserve beauty? I think it is the process that we have for cre­at­ing pub­lic build­ings. The process is with­out inspi­ra­tion or vision.

Mon­treal on the other hand had a mar­velous vision and they have shared it with all of us.


The Penn­syl­va­nia Con­ven­tion Cen­ter is one of the worse inside and out. I don’t want to go on about it check it out your­self here : http://www.paconvention.com

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This is one of the images I’ve taken of our boxes which were piled quite high. The line, color, typog­ra­phy and grid are sur­pris­ingly fun. Just had to snap the composition.

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This vid is bounc­ing around on tum­blr. It’s a look at how inter­ac­tion can be so intu­itive, and feel so real that other beings inter­act and expe­ri­ence some­thing very real. Watch­ing this “smart cat” play with an iPad just like it would with a string or a key­board tells us how far our inter­faces have come. How rich a good touch inter­face can be is very exciting.

Enjoy.

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courtyard

This is what it looked like in our court­yard yes­ter­day. Over night the wind was blow­ing so hard that all the win­dows were cov­ered in snow and we couldn’t see out­side. I found this lit­tle gap and shot the neigh­bors doing some shov­el­ing. Of course after they had spent an hour doing this the snow removal firm showed up and plowed. Silly people.

We usu­ally are parked out there. But with the help of our pals David and E we put our car in a garage for fri­day, stur­day, and Sun­day. We’ll shovel a bit and get it back in place. Thing is we are expect­ing snow again on tues­day and wednesday.

This is our sec­ond huge storm since mov­ing downtown.

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We have lost Howard Zinn. Luck­ily he spoke his mind and it was cap­tured in video and in print. This is just one of many enlight­en­ing lec­tures he gave not that long ago — 2008.

His writ­ings have changed the con­scious­ness of a gen­er­a­tion, and helped open new paths to under­stand­ing and its cru­cial mean­ing for our lives. When action has been called for, one could always be con­fi­dent that he would be on the front lines, an exam­ple and trust­wor­thy guide.“
– Noam Chomsky

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It’s hard not

to jump out

instead of

wait­ing to be

found. It’s

hard to be

alone so long

and then hear

some­one come

around. It’s

like some form

of skin’s developed

in the air

that, rather

than have torn,

you tear.

(“Hide and Seek” was orig­i­nally pub­lished in “The Nia­gara River” by Kay Ryan, Grove Press Poetry Series, 2005.)

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A new move­ment. Think global. Act local.

Small banks actu­ally have an inter­est in your com­mu­nity. Return the favor.

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Off rows of wind­shields
in the Amtrak lot
rain in sud­den
clumps like jacks. Parked cars
with peo­ple in them
await­ing peo­ple they imag­ine
hurtling through sub­urbs
of sil­ver woods
await­ing them. True
love needs inter­fer­ence,
a cer­tain bliz­zard dis­tance,
for the words to worm through.
Remem­ber Iowa?
August storms that would self-spark
as if our fights could trip
the finest wire beneath the side­walk.
And the sun­light, harder after.

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