Stuff to do when I'm Dead

Being an unemployed architect and all, I've had some time to think of the future. And what would a future be without being dead? A bit macabre I know, but it has an element of truth to it. I would want to be eco-dead, of course, and would not want to take up too much space. Cremation is the eco-ticket. But before my dust particles settle into wherever those who knew me think I would like to be scattered - I'd like to finish a few things I started here on earth.

What to do when you're dead? One thing I thought of was to go wait for a building permit. Doesn't matter what town.

Then I think I'd wait for an elevator for awhile. But one would come and the fun would be over. Better chance for an eternal wait to go out to the street here in Seattle and wait for some nice weather.

Then I think I'd go to our old office in Bellevue and wait for something good to happen. Now THAT would be some serious eternal waiting. Not one fucking good thing ever happened in the 30 years or so I worked as an architect.

Eternal waiting gets boring I suppose, even for an urn full of cremated dust, so off i might go to a local airport, get myself transferred to some Tupperware or something and jump out of an airplane without a parachute. That might be kind of cool.

I might go over to Seattle and go to an AIA meeting. Or better yet - go to one of those fucking self-appreciation, mutual admiration AIA awards dinners. Jesus, I don't think I could stand that though, even being dead. What a bunch of insufferable pricks!

Oh hell, after the AIA one would have to have a gigantic dose of civic awareness, so I might go over and wait for the new tunnel to be built along the Seattle waterfront. This of course will never happen in ALL of eternity and I'll need to find something else to watch.

On to Washington D.C. Well, sonofabitch! I've been elected a senator! NOW I'll get some stuff done!

Filling out the Census

“Hey Angelo, how many people we got in dis house?”

“What?”

“How-many-fuckin’-people-we-got-in-dis-house?”

“Who wants to know, Man?”

“Dis fuckin’ thing we got in de mail wants to know.”

“Who sent it?”

“I dunno, some government ting or something.”

“We goin’ get arrested, man?”

“No, man, we ain’t getting arrested. We gotta fill dis out is all.”

Shit, man I dunno. Like when?”

“NOW, man.”

“No, I mean like, when do dey wanna know when the people are living in here?”

“I guess like sleepin’ and stuff like that.”

“Well shit, man, count ‘em up.”

“Ok, but is your ol’ lady livin’ here now?”

“Fuck, man, who knows? It’s up to her like we talked about the other day. Count her like half time I guess.”

“Ok, what about Grampa?”

“Ain’t seen him for awhile, man.”

“Well, is he like, living here?”

“Shit, I dunno. Is he like living at all?”

“Well his shit’s here.”

“I know, but his shit is everywhere. Sometimes he sleeps down under the freeway.”

“I know. So you ain’t seen him?”

“Not for a couple a weeks.”

“Ok, I count him as here, but in another place too. Dey got a box for dat. What about your kids?”

“What about ‘em?”

“Well, they here or not?”

Tony is living with his girlfriend Angelina upstairs and Miguel, shit who knows where the fuck dat punk sleeps?”

“Ok so two then, counting Angelina but not Miguel.”

“He might come home.”

“Too fukin’ late, man I wrote 3.”

“We count the baby?”

“What fukin’ baby?”

“Dat baby your sister got now.”

“Oh, shit I guess. They here now?”

“Seen ‘em this morning, man.”

“Tell her I want to talk to her.”

“Ok. We count the baby?”

“Shit I dunno. Maybe like a tiny person or something.”

“Naw,man dat’s likle a midget. I’ll count it as ½.”

“How many we got?”

“About 7 ½. or so”

“Shit,man, that’s a lot.”

“Hey, dis ain’t MY idea.”

“Yeah, maybe we’ll get more food stamps.”

“Yeah. I’m makin’ it an even 9.”

It is what it was

Try as I might to be loose with charcoal I seem to gravitate towards the blended, the shaded - and detail. I never drew headlights before and so this exercise was fun. damn if they don't look like headlights. This is a larger drawing and I was hoping to just get into the quick interpretation of this car image. but then i got fascinated with it. Fascinated with what someone did 80 years ago with this steel form and the details of it. I guess i like the tension that I'm trying to convey. An industrial work of art really. it caught the eye of the consumer initially. It was in vogue. it was used. consumed. and here it is now in the weeds.

I'm feeling akin to this old fellow these days. I'm an architect who doesn't use Auto CAD. Never learned it. It was a choice then and still is. I have resources, others who do it. And no, I am NOT going to be one of those old, insufferable fucks who cling to the past. fuck the past. But sometimes there is lament in its passing.

We are remodeling our old house this year, finally. My studio is going to be in the rebuilt garage. I plan to immerse myself in my art. Soon. The calling of it is becoming strong.

My friend joined the circus..

A good friend of mine just recently joined the circus. I didn't think people still did that sort of thing but there she was, on the poster - LZ The Great. It was a sudden thing I guess. LZ had gone through a string of unbelievably bad luck and her health had become a comedy of errors. She was fainting on a regular basis - her phone was constantly dialed to 911. How anyone could live with this is beyond me.

I do know she was recently cured and I think that is what may have inspired this life changing venue. Her C-L hubby went with her and has put his massage skills to good use what with the bruises, broken appendages and the like that go with the life of the trapeze artist.

They haven't sold the boat yet, figuring there may be an opportunity to put newly acquired trapeze skills to good use high flying from the mast on opening day of the boating season, just around the corner.

LZ still keeps books to make ends meet. She has found several clowns who need her services, not unlike her former life.

Well, godspeed, LZ! May your career take off to new heights!