Well, 艾恺 was in my dream last night. I don't know why, but we were talking by a tennis court, and 恺 said (about the tennis player/instructor on the court), "He said to me [lowers voice an octave], 'I've never cried in my entire life!'" and we laughed and I said, "Well, buddy, good for you!" There was more, but this is the only exchange I remember.
I also received my fourth rejection letter in the mail today, essentially nullifying the sweet remains of my dream. But I was not shocked. This makes rejections from Ploughshares, The Sun, Green Mountains Review, and Poetry East, for a total of 3 stories and 6 poems rejected. I will try again, I guess, but it's hard not to just say, "well, I must be a talentless hack after all."
Quality control training was led today by a man named "Rock" Rockwell. He reminded me of someone--I had a hard time deciding who. He either winked or had a tic (purposeful) which was like Herbert Lom's in the Panther series, but he looked more like Darren McGavin. Still, it was entertaining enough, although Wanda would have gotten us out of there a few hours earlier. Wanda knows how to whip through those training manuals. I suspect the work, even here, will not last so long, and so I may have to take LWB up on their offer of part-time work. I shudder to think! But I need the money.
For more of the ongoing English from Spanish from English translation (is that like 'a woman, pretending to be a man, pretending to be a woman'?) of La Caseta Mágica, read onward here.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Three unrelated images
Second trip to Amherst moderately successful. Met with a realtor, saw a few houses, did a lot of driving around neighborhoods. Went to the Carle Museum. Became sad over selling my house. Saw "The Old Curiosity Shop" on PBS without pixelation and of course without the now antiquated "snow."
Here is a shot I took of the telephone pole outside my house. You could climb up it, I suppose--it's pretty old. My house, by the way, is 101 years old, and was most likely a mill foreman's house, for the old paper mill down the hill that is now the hydroelectric plant. If you walk down there, you can see the old foundations, and at some point someone stood some of the millstones upright. They look like strange druid totems on a cloudy day. I mean, there's not much fascinating about Milton, but occasionally you find something cool.
And here's a Harry shot. He is so aesthetically pleasing:
And finally, here is Tina's stupid porch. I still have to build the door and screen it:
Canvassing is almost over. We have done our job too well, and there will be no more new work for awhile now. I will miss the adventures. In a totally unrelated thoughtstream, if you would like to read my first attempts at Spanish translation (in preparation for the doctoral program) you can find them here. I'm working on The Phantom Tollbooth.
Here is a shot I took of the telephone pole outside my house. You could climb up it, I suppose--it's pretty old. My house, by the way, is 101 years old, and was most likely a mill foreman's house, for the old paper mill down the hill that is now the hydroelectric plant. If you walk down there, you can see the old foundations, and at some point someone stood some of the millstones upright. They look like strange druid totems on a cloudy day. I mean, there's not much fascinating about Milton, but occasionally you find something cool.
And here's a Harry shot. He is so aesthetically pleasing:
And finally, here is Tina's stupid porch. I still have to build the door and screen it:
Canvassing is almost over. We have done our job too well, and there will be no more new work for awhile now. I will miss the adventures. In a totally unrelated thoughtstream, if you would like to read my first attempts at Spanish translation (in preparation for the doctoral program) you can find them here. I'm working on The Phantom Tollbooth.
Friday, May 01, 2009
House dreams
Before I actually got in bed, I fell asleep in the chair downstairs, with my legs up over one arm and by back braced against the other. I had managed to nestle my head in at a strange angle against the back of the chair. At which point I dreamt about very hilly, perhaps even mountainous address canvassing, which was displayed in a dot-graph-like form in my head. Very rough terrain, as it were. There was an additional confusion, and maybe irritation, about evangelical involvement. When I woke up--just barely enough to stumble upstairs--I reflected that sleeping position has an influence on dreams--surely a great discovery for the oneirological world! Since I was positioned like a valley between two peaks, so was my dream. I also thought that the evangelical aspect of the dream, which created some difficulty in my graphing, probably was the cause of my pain in the neck!
Probably a long while after I fell asleep upstairs, I started to dream about my house (this one, above) and the neighborhood--or rather, the house's relation to the neighborhood. I remember an ominous feeling at one point (I suppose I was already worried) and when I looked out the window, I saw quite a bit of damage (or was it decay?) done to the two neighboring houses. Let me stop for a minute, and explain what the landscape around the house looked like: it was as if we were in a quarry, long overgrown of course, but at the bottom of an immense rock wall, and the houses were backed up to it. They were all quite small and skinny. My house looked in reasonable condition, but the one on the left of me did not. It was sea-green with either asbestos shingle siding or tarpaper (yes they don't usually make tarpaper in that color) which was in very bad condition. I had assumed, up until now, that someone lived in the house, but I saw huge tears in it, and the garage was ballooned out on all sides, as if compression might make for a collapse.
On the right side of my house was a small white house with red trim, and at first I assumed major damage had been done, but perhaps it had come loose of its foundation. I called (someone) for assistance. I think, at this point, I was hearing the terrible wind outside rattling my windows in conjunction with the rain on my metal roof. Who came but Harrison Concrete (more on this later), and they first took the white house and lifted it by crane to a craggy crevice a little further up the mountain. Then they started to tear apart--well peel away--segments of the green house. You could hardly tell it had been framed at all. Pieces of wall came off like wet paper, like butter. I was more than disturbed. The rest of the neighborhood seemed to be intact, but who could tell?
I went to have a look inside the white house, which Harrison had claimed for himself. It was metal all around, like a white cookie tin. It seemed to be in good shape on the inside, and I asked what happened and I suppose Harrison told me that the owner had abandoned it--I wonder why? I suppose I wanted to get away from all that--so I started to look through some DVDs (still dreaming, though I could feel Harry curl up around my arm for protection) and I found "The Sandlot," which was not really "The Sandlot," but it started off with two boys racing cars in a bomb shelter, yes it did.
I'm not one for asking others to provide dream analysis because after all, what significance could their assumptions have on my dreams? I think that house worry is a common theme for me, especially after having purchased. But I find it interesting that the neighborhood had such a different character than my own, or even the neighborhoods I've been canvassing, unless the houses in true disrepair are getting to me more than I think they are. I also recall, when we lived in El Cerrito, wondering if a certain shabby house was even inhabited, since I never saw anyone go in or out. Of course, my schedule did keep me from seeing midday weekday occurrences, but I think it still weighed a little. There is something very sad and queer about an empty house (not for sale, not new construction--just sitting empty). I suppose it makes me think of possible causes: plagues, death, etc. My own neighborhood is thoroughly inhabited, though down the road on 7 there are some really big contemporary houses that are vacant, and have a faded, fallen-down real estate sign in front, long crushed from the snow. In conjunction with some eerie wind chimes and a hot day (it was 90) I felt my skin crawl.
Harrison, the other aspect of the dream, comes quite naturally as the topic of discussion amongst neighbors (his business intends to erect wind-turbines on Georgia mountain, which I am not opposed to, but the people with land abutting or on Georgia mountain do oppose. I think this is not very neighborly) and then seeing Harrison Concrete working on a new subdivision on Westford Rd., which I canvassed yesterday.
Probably a long while after I fell asleep upstairs, I started to dream about my house (this one, above) and the neighborhood--or rather, the house's relation to the neighborhood. I remember an ominous feeling at one point (I suppose I was already worried) and when I looked out the window, I saw quite a bit of damage (or was it decay?) done to the two neighboring houses. Let me stop for a minute, and explain what the landscape around the house looked like: it was as if we were in a quarry, long overgrown of course, but at the bottom of an immense rock wall, and the houses were backed up to it. They were all quite small and skinny. My house looked in reasonable condition, but the one on the left of me did not. It was sea-green with either asbestos shingle siding or tarpaper (yes they don't usually make tarpaper in that color) which was in very bad condition. I had assumed, up until now, that someone lived in the house, but I saw huge tears in it, and the garage was ballooned out on all sides, as if compression might make for a collapse.
On the right side of my house was a small white house with red trim, and at first I assumed major damage had been done, but perhaps it had come loose of its foundation. I called (someone) for assistance. I think, at this point, I was hearing the terrible wind outside rattling my windows in conjunction with the rain on my metal roof. Who came but Harrison Concrete (more on this later), and they first took the white house and lifted it by crane to a craggy crevice a little further up the mountain. Then they started to tear apart--well peel away--segments of the green house. You could hardly tell it had been framed at all. Pieces of wall came off like wet paper, like butter. I was more than disturbed. The rest of the neighborhood seemed to be intact, but who could tell?
I went to have a look inside the white house, which Harrison had claimed for himself. It was metal all around, like a white cookie tin. It seemed to be in good shape on the inside, and I asked what happened and I suppose Harrison told me that the owner had abandoned it--I wonder why? I suppose I wanted to get away from all that--so I started to look through some DVDs (still dreaming, though I could feel Harry curl up around my arm for protection) and I found "The Sandlot," which was not really "The Sandlot," but it started off with two boys racing cars in a bomb shelter, yes it did.
I'm not one for asking others to provide dream analysis because after all, what significance could their assumptions have on my dreams? I think that house worry is a common theme for me, especially after having purchased. But I find it interesting that the neighborhood had such a different character than my own, or even the neighborhoods I've been canvassing, unless the houses in true disrepair are getting to me more than I think they are. I also recall, when we lived in El Cerrito, wondering if a certain shabby house was even inhabited, since I never saw anyone go in or out. Of course, my schedule did keep me from seeing midday weekday occurrences, but I think it still weighed a little. There is something very sad and queer about an empty house (not for sale, not new construction--just sitting empty). I suppose it makes me think of possible causes: plagues, death, etc. My own neighborhood is thoroughly inhabited, though down the road on 7 there are some really big contemporary houses that are vacant, and have a faded, fallen-down real estate sign in front, long crushed from the snow. In conjunction with some eerie wind chimes and a hot day (it was 90) I felt my skin crawl.
Harrison, the other aspect of the dream, comes quite naturally as the topic of discussion amongst neighbors (his business intends to erect wind-turbines on Georgia mountain, which I am not opposed to, but the people with land abutting or on Georgia mountain do oppose. I think this is not very neighborly) and then seeing Harrison Concrete working on a new subdivision on Westford Rd., which I canvassed yesterday.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
On the route
First off, I am really pretty depressed about having heard nothing from UMass with regards to fellowships or assistantships. Apart from the money issue (which I could really use), I can only conclude that everyone's happy to make money off me, but no one has any confidence in my scholarship or my ability to be a good TA, which is, well, really depressing. I know one is not supposed to rely on external validation for self-worth, but this is getting pretty bad. No job, no money: no one thinks I can do anything for them. You would think I was a brain-dead sponge. Nope, can't use those library/computer/design/research/historian/writing/editing/carpentry skills.
I finished my first assigned area yesterday, and got a new one within an hour (and between areas, I went to the Depot to buy some railings for Tina's porch). I spent about 9.5 hours working on a rather large area today (I took it on my bike, as it is local) which spread from the hopping city center of Milton out into the hinterlands of Milton. You say, "Milton can't be that big!" and you are correct, but I saw parts of Milton I have never seen before.
The first area was right around my house (about 450 residences) and ranged from poor to middle-class. There were some ultra-paranoid people, and some very nice people, including a few who invited me into their houses, which I mostly had to refuse. A youngish grandmother was quite helpful, and the seniors at the senior housing were alright too. A naturalist wanted me to take her classes. Most folks just looked some combination of puzzled and irritated. A twentysomething girl and a 40ish man were downright hostile. But that was really no comparison for today.
I started out on North, which intersects Main and goes up toward Georgia and toward the top of Arrowhead Mountain Lake, which is a segment of the Lamoille River. The road starts out with a row of bland rectangular living units: some trailers, some modular, some just contemporary with beige siding. I guess there are a few older homes in the mix, but mostly post 1960. The landscape quickly changes into farmland, fewer houses, larger houses, and the Husky Plant. I saw a brick farm with carpenter gothic details around the roof area, but it was across the road and not in my area. It also had a huge cross attached to it.
Anyway, I came across the sheriff's house, and the sheriff. And I went along further and turned onto some other streets which were a bit more swanky. Not all, but some. Developments from the 80s I think, with a few older and a few newer interspersed. I happened upon one house, one guy (who came out to talk to me for a half hour or more) who gets by, by making pickles and mounting deer antlers. He heats his house and big separate workshop with wood burning boilers which run radiant heat through the floors (as my mom has), and he makes a point of getting the wood for free. Boy, he could talk! I liked him well enough though.
Further on down the road it got pretty rural--folks who'd rather not be found, I guess... although I wonder what the point is of putting a house down a long, winding and foresty drive, and then making it a big, white, ostentatious colonial revival. And then leaving a bunch of junk around the yard, and a rusted-out car, too. So I finished up the end of the road and turned back. Very close to North again, I encountered a friendly, barrel-chested bearded man who said, "Oh! I see we're getting counted!" and I had to say, "Oh, sorry, not yet!" (addresses only for now). I was happy to get a happy reception though. It seems rare.
Back onto North I had the weirdest and most annoying encounter. Only seconds away from a friendly family living in complete disarray, I found the biggest and most pretentious looking gentleman's (or gentlewoman's) horse farm. I could not find the address anywhere (not uncommon, sadly), and I was trying to find out if there were any additional houses on the property. Well, there was at least one adult there--the trunk of the Subie was open, and I heard footsteps bounding through the house. No one answered the door, or my calls. I saw a woman coming from the back of the farm in a big black SUV and I tried to wave her down (I jogged a little towards the car and waved) and she looked right at me, and drove right by! Well, needless to say I was REALLY MAD. I had half a mind to tap "does not exist" on my little screen there, but I didn't. I made an assumption about the address and moved on. But really. Even if I was a Jehovah's Witness or from the LDS, I mean they really couldn't just answer the door?
Out the window, they see a short female dressed in business casual on a bike with a tag on a lanyard and a handheld computer. Is that really terrifying? See first paragraph for possible connection. I've talked to, oh, probably over 100 people on my routes so far (and some have hid from me!) and you know I didn't start this job being wary of people, but maybe I am now!
I finished my first assigned area yesterday, and got a new one within an hour (and between areas, I went to the Depot to buy some railings for Tina's porch). I spent about 9.5 hours working on a rather large area today (I took it on my bike, as it is local) which spread from the hopping city center of Milton out into the hinterlands of Milton. You say, "Milton can't be that big!" and you are correct, but I saw parts of Milton I have never seen before.
The first area was right around my house (about 450 residences) and ranged from poor to middle-class. There were some ultra-paranoid people, and some very nice people, including a few who invited me into their houses, which I mostly had to refuse. A youngish grandmother was quite helpful, and the seniors at the senior housing were alright too. A naturalist wanted me to take her classes. Most folks just looked some combination of puzzled and irritated. A twentysomething girl and a 40ish man were downright hostile. But that was really no comparison for today.
I started out on North, which intersects Main and goes up toward Georgia and toward the top of Arrowhead Mountain Lake, which is a segment of the Lamoille River. The road starts out with a row of bland rectangular living units: some trailers, some modular, some just contemporary with beige siding. I guess there are a few older homes in the mix, but mostly post 1960. The landscape quickly changes into farmland, fewer houses, larger houses, and the Husky Plant. I saw a brick farm with carpenter gothic details around the roof area, but it was across the road and not in my area. It also had a huge cross attached to it.
Anyway, I came across the sheriff's house, and the sheriff. And I went along further and turned onto some other streets which were a bit more swanky. Not all, but some. Developments from the 80s I think, with a few older and a few newer interspersed. I happened upon one house, one guy (who came out to talk to me for a half hour or more) who gets by, by making pickles and mounting deer antlers. He heats his house and big separate workshop with wood burning boilers which run radiant heat through the floors (as my mom has), and he makes a point of getting the wood for free. Boy, he could talk! I liked him well enough though.
Further on down the road it got pretty rural--folks who'd rather not be found, I guess... although I wonder what the point is of putting a house down a long, winding and foresty drive, and then making it a big, white, ostentatious colonial revival. And then leaving a bunch of junk around the yard, and a rusted-out car, too. So I finished up the end of the road and turned back. Very close to North again, I encountered a friendly, barrel-chested bearded man who said, "Oh! I see we're getting counted!" and I had to say, "Oh, sorry, not yet!" (addresses only for now). I was happy to get a happy reception though. It seems rare.
Back onto North I had the weirdest and most annoying encounter. Only seconds away from a friendly family living in complete disarray, I found the biggest and most pretentious looking gentleman's (or gentlewoman's) horse farm. I could not find the address anywhere (not uncommon, sadly), and I was trying to find out if there were any additional houses on the property. Well, there was at least one adult there--the trunk of the Subie was open, and I heard footsteps bounding through the house. No one answered the door, or my calls. I saw a woman coming from the back of the farm in a big black SUV and I tried to wave her down (I jogged a little towards the car and waved) and she looked right at me, and drove right by! Well, needless to say I was REALLY MAD. I had half a mind to tap "does not exist" on my little screen there, but I didn't. I made an assumption about the address and moved on. But really. Even if I was a Jehovah's Witness or from the LDS, I mean they really couldn't just answer the door?
Out the window, they see a short female dressed in business casual on a bike with a tag on a lanyard and a handheld computer. Is that really terrifying? See first paragraph for possible connection. I've talked to, oh, probably over 100 people on my routes so far (and some have hid from me!) and you know I didn't start this job being wary of people, but maybe I am now!
Friday, April 17, 2009
Address Canvassing (Census)
While I was updating the census maps and address list, I had an opportunity to check out the long abandoned rail station, located (of course) next to the tracks on Railroad St. It was right on my route, and I wanted to make sure no one was camped out there, because if someone was, I'd have to make a map spot.
It has clearly gotten a lot of graffiti and glass-breakage over the years--I guess it's better that the kids go here to be destructive than somewhere else. I didn't find anyone camped out, or even any evidence of that--which maybe surprised me a little, considering that I've seen people sleeping under the counter at the laundromat--but it is awfully messy and dangerous in the rail-station, so it really isn't conducive to camping out.
My cell-phone pictures don't do the building justice, sadly, but I will return with black and white film to really get some nice contrasty images. Everything was very still, and the chickadees (or are they nuthatches?) were flitting from tree to building.
I had some nice cooperative people (such as at the senior housing), some neutral people, and some mean and/or scary people on my routes. I also saw a number of pit-bulls and Am Staffordshire Terriers, I think, which are the short-haired ones that maul people sometimes? I wondered what people are so worried about that they train their dogs to growl and lunge at a person arriving quite neutrally in broad daylight, and announcing themselves. I was forced to take map spots from further away in some cases because I thought if I approached the stairs, I would get bitten or worse.
There are an awful lot of paranoid people here in Milton, or maybe in the world. Very suspicious, even when I tell people who I am, show them an ID badge, hand them a sheet about the confidentiality of the census, and say that I'm only updating addresses. One not-too-bright individual told me, after I'd said this, "I don't want any!" Want any what? Are you listening to what I'm saying here? Good grief, don't answer the door if you're only going to be mean--I knocked lightly and I'll go away when I'm done updating my maps, if you don't answer, [jerk.] What's funny is that the people who are most likely to form a militia are living on such bucolic-sounding streets as "Lovely Ln." and "Aurora Ln." Sweet_enemy mentioned earlier that the Bureau of Ironic Names must've been through beforehand.
The job is intermittently worrisome, and mostly boring. But I will update if I find any other interesting abandoned places.
It has clearly gotten a lot of graffiti and glass-breakage over the years--I guess it's better that the kids go here to be destructive than somewhere else. I didn't find anyone camped out, or even any evidence of that--which maybe surprised me a little, considering that I've seen people sleeping under the counter at the laundromat--but it is awfully messy and dangerous in the rail-station, so it really isn't conducive to camping out.
My cell-phone pictures don't do the building justice, sadly, but I will return with black and white film to really get some nice contrasty images. Everything was very still, and the chickadees (or are they nuthatches?) were flitting from tree to building.
I had some nice cooperative people (such as at the senior housing), some neutral people, and some mean and/or scary people on my routes. I also saw a number of pit-bulls and Am Staffordshire Terriers, I think, which are the short-haired ones that maul people sometimes? I wondered what people are so worried about that they train their dogs to growl and lunge at a person arriving quite neutrally in broad daylight, and announcing themselves. I was forced to take map spots from further away in some cases because I thought if I approached the stairs, I would get bitten or worse.
There are an awful lot of paranoid people here in Milton, or maybe in the world. Very suspicious, even when I tell people who I am, show them an ID badge, hand them a sheet about the confidentiality of the census, and say that I'm only updating addresses. One not-too-bright individual told me, after I'd said this, "I don't want any!" Want any what? Are you listening to what I'm saying here? Good grief, don't answer the door if you're only going to be mean--I knocked lightly and I'll go away when I'm done updating my maps, if you don't answer, [jerk.] What's funny is that the people who are most likely to form a militia are living on such bucolic-sounding streets as "Lovely Ln." and "Aurora Ln." Sweet_enemy mentioned earlier that the Bureau of Ironic Names must've been through beforehand.
The job is intermittently worrisome, and mostly boring. But I will update if I find any other interesting abandoned places.
How to! Part 6
Well, things are getting close. I won't write too much here--if you want to know how I determined the rafter length and pitch, and how I cut the bird's-mouth on the rafters, just comment and I will tell all. Suffice it to say that I decided to put the rafters on a 19.2 (diamonds) layout--because I had just enough lumber for that, and it looked evenly spaced. Ordinarily, I would stack them on top of the studs, for load-bearing, but on a playhouse it really isn't necessary.
Then I cut the sheets of 1/2 inch plywood to size, painted the inside light sky blue, and installed them with screws to the rafters. Because of the small size and rigidity, I did not need to pull the rafters to layout, but ordinarily you could not skip this step. Here it is--you can see a little of the under-blue:
I also put ice and water shield on the roof, but no pictures for that! Roofing next...
Then I cut the sheets of 1/2 inch plywood to size, painted the inside light sky blue, and installed them with screws to the rafters. Because of the small size and rigidity, I did not need to pull the rafters to layout, but ordinarily you could not skip this step. Here it is--you can see a little of the under-blue:
I also put ice and water shield on the roof, but no pictures for that! Roofing next...
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Can't touch the New Deal
I'm behind in my postings for the dumb screened-porch, but I had something more pressing on my mind for this entry. I got an email from Vermont Arts Council, famous local grant-awarding organization, about a $250,000 allotment from the federal government, to be managed by VAC, for the purpose of distribution to non-profit arts organizations to: retain employees that would be lost, due to economic conditions, or to pay fees for previously engaged artists which the organization could no longer afford.
You can read the details here.
Now, here's what bugging me. (You thought perhaps I wrote this to get the word out? I didn't.) It's not that I fault the government for spending the money. $250,000 is peanuts. And it's not that I have anything against VAC, non-profit arts orgs, or perish-forbid, artists themselves. But I find this to be not a very useful, or efficient way to direct the flow money, and ultimately spend it.
The VAC plans on giving grants of $5000 to small orgs, and $10,000 to large ones. Let me break this down, in terms of payment:
A small organization will be able to pay ONE employee, full time, for about 6 months, at a bare-minimum wage ($5.25 an hour, about). Or in VT, since minimum is about $8, they will be able to support a full-time employee for about 3 and a half months. A large organization might pay a part-time employee (let's change it up here) for 6 to 12 months (depending on hours)--but the part-time employee had better be supported by a wage-earning spouse, or have a nice bank account already. A small or large organization may choose to pay for an artist-in-residence, or performance artists who are already booked. Read: one/few, no new hires, no new work in this budget.
My problem is not with the funding itself--fine, it has a purpose, and the purpose is sound enough. But the funds 1) are not enough to retain employees, and 2) go through a network of orgs before reaching the artist--if they reach the artist at all. Employees to be retained (not that there's anything wrong with this, but...) may not be artists at all--even if they are important to the function of the organization.
What I'm ultimately getting at here is... probably shockingly socialist. But once upon a time, the government used it's own (well, taxpayer, ultimately) money to fund DIRECT arts programs. I'm not saying there wasn't bureaucratic red-tape there too. But I, artist, would have been able to apply to one of many programs, and possibly be HIRED to do the work I AM GOOD AT. And thousands like me. Not to become an administrative assistant at a non-profit arts organization, or an event-planner for an arts festival. An actual artist, doing work for the government, in or on or at public sites and structures, or for the public good.
Instead, because we wouldn't want to seem too socialist, we funnel money through lots of little organizations, which each have an operating budget and at least 1 employee, and what's left of the money goes to the promotion of a select few artists, who are then thrown on the mercy of the public market/economy to either make it or fail, sink or swim--get their art purchased, or not. I would rather be a wage-earner building, painting murals, collecting oral histories, recording folk songs or acting in a play for the public benefit, than scramble around looking for ever-decreasing grant money and hoping that some buyer will help me break even on my art materials, while I work full-time at a dead-end job to make ends meet. Perhaps this, in someone's mind, is "on the dole," and perhaps in a lot of minds, I'm saying something unAmerican. But to my mind this is trickle-down economics as applied to non-profit organizations and their recipients. I didn't like government funding of charities for the same reason--not on religious grounds, but because I think it is a great way to squander money.
No non-profit--heck, not even the government--intends to squander money. But the more levels, and channels, and streams and flow-charts you add to something, the more money gets diverted to operational costs--the costs of business. Little by little, the stream gets smaller.
You can read the details here.
Now, here's what bugging me. (You thought perhaps I wrote this to get the word out? I didn't.) It's not that I fault the government for spending the money. $250,000 is peanuts. And it's not that I have anything against VAC, non-profit arts orgs, or perish-forbid, artists themselves. But I find this to be not a very useful, or efficient way to direct the flow money, and ultimately spend it.
The VAC plans on giving grants of $5000 to small orgs, and $10,000 to large ones. Let me break this down, in terms of payment:
A small organization will be able to pay ONE employee, full time, for about 6 months, at a bare-minimum wage ($5.25 an hour, about). Or in VT, since minimum is about $8, they will be able to support a full-time employee for about 3 and a half months. A large organization might pay a part-time employee (let's change it up here) for 6 to 12 months (depending on hours)--but the part-time employee had better be supported by a wage-earning spouse, or have a nice bank account already. A small or large organization may choose to pay for an artist-in-residence, or performance artists who are already booked. Read: one/few, no new hires, no new work in this budget.
My problem is not with the funding itself--fine, it has a purpose, and the purpose is sound enough. But the funds 1) are not enough to retain employees, and 2) go through a network of orgs before reaching the artist--if they reach the artist at all. Employees to be retained (not that there's anything wrong with this, but...) may not be artists at all--even if they are important to the function of the organization.
What I'm ultimately getting at here is... probably shockingly socialist. But once upon a time, the government used it's own (well, taxpayer, ultimately) money to fund DIRECT arts programs. I'm not saying there wasn't bureaucratic red-tape there too. But I, artist, would have been able to apply to one of many programs, and possibly be HIRED to do the work I AM GOOD AT. And thousands like me. Not to become an administrative assistant at a non-profit arts organization, or an event-planner for an arts festival. An actual artist, doing work for the government, in or on or at public sites and structures, or for the public good.
Instead, because we wouldn't want to seem too socialist, we funnel money through lots of little organizations, which each have an operating budget and at least 1 employee, and what's left of the money goes to the promotion of a select few artists, who are then thrown on the mercy of the public market/economy to either make it or fail, sink or swim--get their art purchased, or not. I would rather be a wage-earner building, painting murals, collecting oral histories, recording folk songs or acting in a play for the public benefit, than scramble around looking for ever-decreasing grant money and hoping that some buyer will help me break even on my art materials, while I work full-time at a dead-end job to make ends meet. Perhaps this, in someone's mind, is "on the dole," and perhaps in a lot of minds, I'm saying something unAmerican. But to my mind this is trickle-down economics as applied to non-profit organizations and their recipients. I didn't like government funding of charities for the same reason--not on religious grounds, but because I think it is a great way to squander money.
No non-profit--heck, not even the government--intends to squander money. But the more levels, and channels, and streams and flow-charts you add to something, the more money gets diverted to operational costs--the costs of business. Little by little, the stream gets smaller.
Friday, April 10, 2009
How to! Part 5
First, I remeasured my deck and decided where I was going to place the walls, and made small pencil marks for layout, since I can't use the indelible red chalk on the decking. I also measured how tall the wall would be, and subtracted 4.5 inches for 1 bottom and 2 top plates. You use 2 top plates both for strength and trim, in this case.
Then I came back to my cut station, and cut the bottom plate and the first top plate. There are vicissitudes to layout, and I will only touch upon it here. Truss, stud, joist or rafter layout is usually done in one of 3 patterns:
16 on center
2 foot on center
19.2 or 'diamonds'
Instead of choosing a layout (since I want a nice, even screen pattern), I chose to start from the center, working outwards in three sections on the long walls, and two sections on the short wall. It is very close to a 2 foot layout pattern:
In order to make both plates the same, by the way, you might want to line the plates up, mark your spots with a ^, make your line across both boards with a speed square, and put an X on the side of the line you want to put the stud.
Okay, then I carried all the walls over, and attached the bottoms to the deck with deck screws (easier than pulling nails if there is a mistake.) I also put a screw in the end stud to attach it to the house. I stepped back and took a look:
Aside from the dorky looking house, I noticed a problem. The deck is level, but the house isn't--and neither is the house plumb. And so my screws into the end studs were pulling my fresh walls out of plumb. I checked them with a level, and indeed this was the case. I needed to pull the tops of the walls out about 3/4 inch (with the bottom still tight) to make them plumb. If this was getting sheathed, I would have just nailed the end studs tight and brought the top plate out from the wall--but this is not an option, because I have to create square screen frames. So luckily I still had the second top plate to make.
I pulled the screws out and let the tops loose, and they came right into plumb. Then I measured specially for the second top plates. I made them weave together, so that the walls lap and hold together at the joints. To do this, I made the short wall have a seven-inch longer plate, and the long walls had plates that were short 3.5 inches each. And then I installed them:
There will be a trim discrepancy, but it was the least of all evils. Hopefully I will be able to disguise it before Tina goes: "why is there a gap here?" So then I decided to go a little further and try a ridge beam:
Once again, I measured the height (and I had toyed with the idea of making it lower, since good roofing requires it to be about a foot lower for the ice/water shield, and the flashing, and drainage... but that would have made a really low ceiling--and I thought, what the heck! It's a playhouse. I will do my very best to ensure that no ice-dams form in the winter--I plan on using ice/water shield and flashing, but in a much smaller space. Next, rafters...
Then I came back to my cut station, and cut the bottom plate and the first top plate. There are vicissitudes to layout, and I will only touch upon it here. Truss, stud, joist or rafter layout is usually done in one of 3 patterns:
16 on center
2 foot on center
19.2 or 'diamonds'
Instead of choosing a layout (since I want a nice, even screen pattern), I chose to start from the center, working outwards in three sections on the long walls, and two sections on the short wall. It is very close to a 2 foot layout pattern:
In order to make both plates the same, by the way, you might want to line the plates up, mark your spots with a ^, make your line across both boards with a speed square, and put an X on the side of the line you want to put the stud.
Okay, then I carried all the walls over, and attached the bottoms to the deck with deck screws (easier than pulling nails if there is a mistake.) I also put a screw in the end stud to attach it to the house. I stepped back and took a look:
Aside from the dorky looking house, I noticed a problem. The deck is level, but the house isn't--and neither is the house plumb. And so my screws into the end studs were pulling my fresh walls out of plumb. I checked them with a level, and indeed this was the case. I needed to pull the tops of the walls out about 3/4 inch (with the bottom still tight) to make them plumb. If this was getting sheathed, I would have just nailed the end studs tight and brought the top plate out from the wall--but this is not an option, because I have to create square screen frames. So luckily I still had the second top plate to make.
I pulled the screws out and let the tops loose, and they came right into plumb. Then I measured specially for the second top plates. I made them weave together, so that the walls lap and hold together at the joints. To do this, I made the short wall have a seven-inch longer plate, and the long walls had plates that were short 3.5 inches each. And then I installed them:
There will be a trim discrepancy, but it was the least of all evils. Hopefully I will be able to disguise it before Tina goes: "why is there a gap here?" So then I decided to go a little further and try a ridge beam:
Once again, I measured the height (and I had toyed with the idea of making it lower, since good roofing requires it to be about a foot lower for the ice/water shield, and the flashing, and drainage... but that would have made a really low ceiling--and I thought, what the heck! It's a playhouse. I will do my very best to ensure that no ice-dams form in the winter--I plan on using ice/water shield and flashing, but in a much smaller space. Next, rafters...
Monday, April 06, 2009
How to! Part 4 (Dual Language Edition)
I'm going to keep this one short, for obvious reasons. First, I decided I needed some crushed stone to go over the black garden fabric, and underneath the deck itself--I want to avoid any growth under there, while providing a little drainage. I also realized that I probably should have filled the whole area with crushed stone, but I'm not made of money.
我买了被击碎的石头。我推挤了石头。
Obviously "tuī jǐ" is not the best choice for the second sentence/action, but finding a better word will have to wait. I also bought more three-inch ACQ compatible deck screws, but as it turns out, still not enough. But I was able to start laying the 5/4 by 6 (or 1x6, if you like).
我买了木头的螺丝。我没有足够。
What I wanted to do was put the PT 1x6s tight, so that when they shrink up, they won't leave too much gap. So I determined how much overhang I wanted on the first board, and then laid out (in pencil, on the joists) where each board would fall. The porch takes ten boards very neatly, with an overhang in the front and back. When you install deck boards, it is important to measure the distance of your screws from the edges of the board, and to keep the screws centered over the joist, so that when you come upon the deck, it looks neat and professional. I recommend the ACQ compatible deck screws with the square head because they don't strip as easily, and they are easy to remove... and because when you're hitting galvanized nails with a hammer (the other method) you inevitably leave marks all over the boards, or bend the nails. And then just try to remove a bent galvanized nail without marring the board!
我紧紧放置了木头。我为螺丝测量了。????
Or, en Espanol?
Ayer, compré alguna piedra machacada. Necesité seis bolsos. Hizo una capa delgada. Corté a algunos tableros de madera. Instalé a los tableros. Medí antes de que pusiera en los tornillos. No utilicé clavos.
And then: Here I am at the start of the decking, with the rocks underneath. I gave the front board an inch overhang.
And here I am at the finish, after I've trimmed all the ends with the skilsaw, and given them a 10-degree bevel.
我买了被击碎的石头。我推挤了石头。
Obviously "tuī jǐ" is not the best choice for the second sentence/action, but finding a better word will have to wait. I also bought more three-inch ACQ compatible deck screws, but as it turns out, still not enough. But I was able to start laying the 5/4 by 6 (or 1x6, if you like).
我买了木头的螺丝。我没有足够。
What I wanted to do was put the PT 1x6s tight, so that when they shrink up, they won't leave too much gap. So I determined how much overhang I wanted on the first board, and then laid out (in pencil, on the joists) where each board would fall. The porch takes ten boards very neatly, with an overhang in the front and back. When you install deck boards, it is important to measure the distance of your screws from the edges of the board, and to keep the screws centered over the joist, so that when you come upon the deck, it looks neat and professional. I recommend the ACQ compatible deck screws with the square head because they don't strip as easily, and they are easy to remove... and because when you're hitting galvanized nails with a hammer (the other method) you inevitably leave marks all over the boards, or bend the nails. And then just try to remove a bent galvanized nail without marring the board!
我紧紧放置了木头。我为螺丝测量了。????
Or, en Espanol?
Ayer, compré alguna piedra machacada. Necesité seis bolsos. Hizo una capa delgada. Corté a algunos tableros de madera. Instalé a los tableros. Medí antes de que pusiera en los tornillos. No utilicé clavos.
And then: Here I am at the start of the decking, with the rocks underneath. I gave the front board an inch overhang.
And here I am at the finish, after I've trimmed all the ends with the skilsaw, and given them a 10-degree bevel.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
La Sonnambula
By Bellini! Okay, in this one, the concept was reworked a bit--from its original locale in the Swiss Alps, to a rehearsal studio for a production of La Sonnambula. The set was quite engaging, especially the tall studio windows, through which you can see New York: raining, sunny, nighttime, or snowing! The soprano, Natalie Dessay (who was the exuberant host of Lucia) was doing some very funny acting in addition to singing, which I gather is her forte. Guess who I also thought stole the show--the Count! (Mr.) Michele Pertusi managed to be sexy, creepy and funny all at the same time. Hoo yeah!
I'm supposed to like Flores, the tenor, I guess, and I did--but I didn't like Elvino, the character. He wasn't very trusting of his true love, eh? And the suitor of the bad-girl innkeeper was faithful all the while! I thought--this is a sort of qualified happy ending. But it did look like the Count got with the mother, which I had foreseen. I'm pretty sure the Count and the mother had a thing going before his self-imposed exile!
The Post gave this a bad review, and reported booing of the director--though I only saw standing ovations, so there! Granted, this staging works great for HD, but probably is difficult to catch in the nosebleeds--but then, so were Salome, and Tosca, when I saw them in the nosebleeds at Moscone, or wherever. And Dessay has an advantage in traditional (non HD) opera, since in the nosebleeds she can pass for 17, but in HD, she looks like an adult. A pretty adult, but still an adult.
I say, rock on Mary Zimmerman! Don't listen to those snobs! I think your direction rocked, considering this is a pretty fluffy, silly lil opera.
I still haven't found a composer who compares with Puccini--Bellini wasn't it. Massenet came close. At home I've heard Gounod and Wagner (Tannhauser, not ring cycle) and liked them, but the music is heavier. Next season they will be doing Turandot (very exciting) and Verdi's Aida among others.
I'm supposed to like Flores, the tenor, I guess, and I did--but I didn't like Elvino, the character. He wasn't very trusting of his true love, eh? And the suitor of the bad-girl innkeeper was faithful all the while! I thought--this is a sort of qualified happy ending. But it did look like the Count got with the mother, which I had foreseen. I'm pretty sure the Count and the mother had a thing going before his self-imposed exile!
The Post gave this a bad review, and reported booing of the director--though I only saw standing ovations, so there! Granted, this staging works great for HD, but probably is difficult to catch in the nosebleeds--but then, so were Salome, and Tosca, when I saw them in the nosebleeds at Moscone, or wherever. And Dessay has an advantage in traditional (non HD) opera, since in the nosebleeds she can pass for 17, but in HD, she looks like an adult. A pretty adult, but still an adult.
I say, rock on Mary Zimmerman! Don't listen to those snobs! I think your direction rocked, considering this is a pretty fluffy, silly lil opera.
I still haven't found a composer who compares with Puccini--Bellini wasn't it. Massenet came close. At home I've heard Gounod and Wagner (Tannhauser, not ring cycle) and liked them, but the music is heavier. Next season they will be doing Turandot (very exciting) and Verdi's Aida among others.
How to! Part 3
t was a beautiful day today--just the right sort of day for deck framing. I started by getting a general sense of squareness by measuring the placement of the sonotubes and bolts, running a framing square off the existing building, and doing a couple of 3/4/5 triangles off the existing building (using dummy boards). The 3/4/5 triangle (and multiples) are essential for squaring up things in carpentry. You thought you would not use this quaint little geometric formula ever again... but YOU WILL!! My favorite is the 12/16/20.
Once I had an idea of what needed to be done, I constructed my pressure treated posts (made of PT 2x4, with a 1/2 inch hole drilled for the bolt. Because the bolts didn't line up--that would be too much to expect--I constructed the posts so that the edge of both would line up, and create a nailing surface for one of the joists. I was about 1.5 inches off on both sets, which was perfect--all I had to do was attach a third 2x4 to the side. And this is how the deck will be connected to the sonotubes, and it is what makes it rigid.
But before I could make all these connections, I bolted off the posts, and then made myself a 5-4-0 ledger, which I nailed to the existing building. I had to make sure the height was correct, as well as level. I made it 5-4-0 instead of 5-7-0 so that I could lap the rim board over the edges on both ends, and that way you won't see any end grain on the board.
Then came the harder part--putting the first joist in right (connected to the sonotube posts) so that it was level with the ledger, and also square with the ledger. I used my dummy boards to get it square with the ledger, and I had to screw and unscrew it a couple of times before I got it level on both sides. Then I cut a few more joists at 5-4-0, and my two rimboards at 6-6-0. I nailed the rimboards to the ledger and first joist, and then leveled them up on the ends with spare blocks. I was then free to put the end joist in. Then, I was able to re-square the entire deck frame, using diagonals.
Just measure a diagonal from corner to corner, and adjust accordingly.
Then I finished my joists, added some hangers, and got everything secure to the posts, and I decided I was done for today!
These are the tools you need for this bit: drill/screwdriver with multiple bits; circular saw; tape measure; speed square and framing square; galvanized nails and screws (3 or 3.25 inch); hammer; level; and a helper if you can swing it. Oh, and here's one last picture of the Simpson hanger:
Once I had an idea of what needed to be done, I constructed my pressure treated posts (made of PT 2x4, with a 1/2 inch hole drilled for the bolt. Because the bolts didn't line up--that would be too much to expect--I constructed the posts so that the edge of both would line up, and create a nailing surface for one of the joists. I was about 1.5 inches off on both sets, which was perfect--all I had to do was attach a third 2x4 to the side. And this is how the deck will be connected to the sonotubes, and it is what makes it rigid.
But before I could make all these connections, I bolted off the posts, and then made myself a 5-4-0 ledger, which I nailed to the existing building. I had to make sure the height was correct, as well as level. I made it 5-4-0 instead of 5-7-0 so that I could lap the rim board over the edges on both ends, and that way you won't see any end grain on the board.
Then came the harder part--putting the first joist in right (connected to the sonotube posts) so that it was level with the ledger, and also square with the ledger. I used my dummy boards to get it square with the ledger, and I had to screw and unscrew it a couple of times before I got it level on both sides. Then I cut a few more joists at 5-4-0, and my two rimboards at 6-6-0. I nailed the rimboards to the ledger and first joist, and then leveled them up on the ends with spare blocks. I was then free to put the end joist in. Then, I was able to re-square the entire deck frame, using diagonals.
Just measure a diagonal from corner to corner, and adjust accordingly.
Then I finished my joists, added some hangers, and got everything secure to the posts, and I decided I was done for today!
These are the tools you need for this bit: drill/screwdriver with multiple bits; circular saw; tape measure; speed square and framing square; galvanized nails and screws (3 or 3.25 inch); hammer; level; and a helper if you can swing it. Oh, and here's one last picture of the Simpson hanger:
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
How to! Part 2
So, as it snowed lightly today, I thought I would give the sonotube footings a try. (It was snowing, but the temp was hovering around 40) I cut them about two inches, because I didn't want the lower ones on the slope to stick up too much. If this were a real deck, I would want them to rise about 8 inches or more above the ground-line, but in this case, I have a limited scale (I can't go higher than the roof of the playhouse), and there will be minimal human use. I don't anticipate a drainage problem. I may put pea-gravel all around underneath to help with this. Anyway, I put the tubes back in, checked them for level and plumb, and then mixed the Quickcrete (portland cement, add water).
Then, after mixing 80 pounds (enough for one 22 inch sonotube) with 3/4 gallons of water, I put the concrete in the tube. What you want to do is perform a quick slump test, to see if the 'crete is right. You put some in a bucket, and turn it over like a sandcastle. If it slumps a little, but doesn't lose all shape, it is the right consistency. Here I am in the middle of mixing and pouring:
Then I inserted the threaded rod, which is about 12 inches long with a curved end at the bottom, and the threaded bit at the top, in the center of the filled sonotube. I wanted to leave 4.5 inches above the concrete, so that I could use at least 3 inches of lumber as blocking (two 2x4s), or even three layers of blocking with a countersunk hole. Here I am, measuring the rod:
Then, I repeated this process three more times. The hardest bits were physically carrying and mixing the concrete, and keeping the tubes plumb and level. I also noticed that sometimes I had extra in an 80 pound bag, and sometimes was a couple inches short, which is odd since I cut the tubes exactly the same height. But there may have been some seepage at the edges of the paver, or I just lost some as I was dumping it in. Who knows? Anyway, I got them all in, here they are:
Finally, because I didn't know what the weather would be like tonight, and because it's common practice with slabs, I put plastic over the finished tubes, and weighted the plastic with rocks. It takes 24 hours to cure enough to build on, and it takes about 7 days to cure completely. Next stop: deck framing!
Then, after mixing 80 pounds (enough for one 22 inch sonotube) with 3/4 gallons of water, I put the concrete in the tube. What you want to do is perform a quick slump test, to see if the 'crete is right. You put some in a bucket, and turn it over like a sandcastle. If it slumps a little, but doesn't lose all shape, it is the right consistency. Here I am in the middle of mixing and pouring:
Then I inserted the threaded rod, which is about 12 inches long with a curved end at the bottom, and the threaded bit at the top, in the center of the filled sonotube. I wanted to leave 4.5 inches above the concrete, so that I could use at least 3 inches of lumber as blocking (two 2x4s), or even three layers of blocking with a countersunk hole. Here I am, measuring the rod:
Then, I repeated this process three more times. The hardest bits were physically carrying and mixing the concrete, and keeping the tubes plumb and level. I also noticed that sometimes I had extra in an 80 pound bag, and sometimes was a couple inches short, which is odd since I cut the tubes exactly the same height. But there may have been some seepage at the edges of the paver, or I just lost some as I was dumping it in. Who knows? Anyway, I got them all in, here they are:
Finally, because I didn't know what the weather would be like tonight, and because it's common practice with slabs, I put plastic over the finished tubes, and weighted the plastic with rocks. It takes 24 hours to cure enough to build on, and it takes about 7 days to cure completely. Next stop: deck framing!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
How to! Part 1
It's good for me to continue to do carpentry. It keeps me grounded. I'm really not the same person on a jobsite as I am in writing. It's like Mad Jack and Siegfried Sassoon: I must cultivate the internal division.
Anyway, I agreed to do a screened-porch for odd neighbor Tina. It's really an addition to her playhouse, which is for her and her two sick pomeranians (don't ask!). So I decided I'd better make footings, since I'm not sure the playhouse is at all well connected to the ground, and I don't want to risk the porch blowing away. So I did the preliminary work today, and took some pictures of it, which I'm going to post and narrate, "This Old House" style. Oh, Tommy, won't you come over to my house? Anyway...
First, here is the site. It is really only about six by six feet, so it clearly can't compete with the 60,000 square foot buildings we used to do--but it's also my first 100% solo project, so I guess I'll not be too hard on me. So here's the site:
Next, I had to dig some holes. For the foundation, I decided on sonotubes filled with concrete. Underneath each sonotube is a flat rock or paver. Since I didn't want to be digging until judgement day (which is only in September for us Jews!) I decided to cut my four-foot tubes into two-foot tubes. I want to leave enough height to put rebar in with a threaded rod at the end, so that I can bolt right into the deck framing. This saves me from having to rent a hammer drill to bolt into the concrete. So here are my preliminary holes, with one sonotube sticking out, as a test:
Then, I wanted to get a sense of how much further I ought to dig each hole, so I put all the tubes in, and tested for level using a 2x4 and my four-foot level on each side, and on the diagonals. Ideally, if there is a difference, the slope should be down and away from the house. I was going for about 1/4 inch difference, if any:
Good work, kid! Very, very close. I then had to widen the holes a bit, to put the pavers in them, and tomorrow I will be putting the sonotubes back in, over the pavers, and mixing the concrete. I'm a little nervous about this part, since I've never done it before. After the concrete is set--then will be the easy part!!
Anyway, I agreed to do a screened-porch for odd neighbor Tina. It's really an addition to her playhouse, which is for her and her two sick pomeranians (don't ask!). So I decided I'd better make footings, since I'm not sure the playhouse is at all well connected to the ground, and I don't want to risk the porch blowing away. So I did the preliminary work today, and took some pictures of it, which I'm going to post and narrate, "This Old House" style. Oh, Tommy, won't you come over to my house? Anyway...
First, here is the site. It is really only about six by six feet, so it clearly can't compete with the 60,000 square foot buildings we used to do--but it's also my first 100% solo project, so I guess I'll not be too hard on me. So here's the site:
Next, I had to dig some holes. For the foundation, I decided on sonotubes filled with concrete. Underneath each sonotube is a flat rock or paver. Since I didn't want to be digging until judgement day (which is only in September for us Jews!) I decided to cut my four-foot tubes into two-foot tubes. I want to leave enough height to put rebar in with a threaded rod at the end, so that I can bolt right into the deck framing. This saves me from having to rent a hammer drill to bolt into the concrete. So here are my preliminary holes, with one sonotube sticking out, as a test:
Then, I wanted to get a sense of how much further I ought to dig each hole, so I put all the tubes in, and tested for level using a 2x4 and my four-foot level on each side, and on the diagonals. Ideally, if there is a difference, the slope should be down and away from the house. I was going for about 1/4 inch difference, if any:
Good work, kid! Very, very close. I then had to widen the holes a bit, to put the pavers in them, and tomorrow I will be putting the sonotubes back in, over the pavers, and mixing the concrete. I'm a little nervous about this part, since I've never done it before. After the concrete is set--then will be the easy part!!
Friday, March 27, 2009
Trip recap in Chinese
我去南部。
Wǒ qù nánbù.
I went south.
旅行持续了三个小时。
Lǚxíng chíxùle sāngè xiǎoshí.
The trip lasted three hours.
它是乐趣。
Tā shì lèqù.
It was fun.
Wǒ qù nánbù.
I went south.
旅行持续了三个小时。
Lǚxíng chíxùle sāngè xiǎoshí.
The trip lasted three hours.
它是乐趣。
Tā shì lèqù.
It was fun.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
At the Birches
Here I am, in Amherst, taking in the great little town here (there is a bookstore on every corner! I saw books I've never seen!). Found Hebrew and Chinese children's blocks in the toy store, and language shower curtains. And in the store next door, "barbie skulls." I bought one as a present!
Oh, and UMass. Riiight. That's why I'm here. I stopped off in Greenfield as I was driving down, and I saw the most enormous, beautiful train trestle, but I had no camera. It looked great and sad there, in the drizzle. There were also some cool storefronts in decay and a few disintegrating motel signs. And it was a good day for picture taking too, alas. Greenfield is a little depressed, but I saw some signs of life on main street there, even so--I mean it was busy, and there were some new and interesting businesses. Amherst, of course, is bustling and so is Northhampton, where Smith is I guess, which explains why--college towns. I think Northhampton is where my mom and I sang "Le Bourgeois," as we meandered down the street, but my memory could be failing too:
"Le bourgeois, all are very dumb,
the older that they get, the dumber they become!
Le bourgeois, what a bunch of pigs,
one of them is bald, and the other two wear wigs!"
(Rod McKuen's translation of Jacques Brel)
Springfield has some nice low-end houses, and also a couple of REALLY SWEET studios, if they last. It is a lot to think about. Meanwhile, I will have to try to find parking on campus tomorrow and then find History. Needless to say, it won't be the same as moving quietly through Wieboldt, through Harper, into Social Sciences, and then hovering around the second floor offices or running your hand against the paneling in 122 (?). But you can't go home again. And in any case, it would not be home any longer. It would be missing a person I love.
"I went there uncertainly, for it was foreign ground and there was a tiny, priggish, warning voice in my ear which [...] told me it was seemly to hold back. But I was in search of love in those days, and I went full of curiosity and the faint, unrecognized apprehension that here, at last, I should find that low door in the wall, which others, I knew, had found before me, which opened on an enclosed and enchanted garden, which was somewhere, not overlooked by any window, in the heart of that grey city." (EW)
Phrase of the day (and no, I'm not over it yet):
我的自行车是太复杂的。
Wǒde zìxíngchē shì tài fùzáde.
My bicycle is too complicated.
(I'm not sure if it really calls for "de" at the end, but I'll risk it.)
Oh, and UMass. Riiight. That's why I'm here. I stopped off in Greenfield as I was driving down, and I saw the most enormous, beautiful train trestle, but I had no camera. It looked great and sad there, in the drizzle. There were also some cool storefronts in decay and a few disintegrating motel signs. And it was a good day for picture taking too, alas. Greenfield is a little depressed, but I saw some signs of life on main street there, even so--I mean it was busy, and there were some new and interesting businesses. Amherst, of course, is bustling and so is Northhampton, where Smith is I guess, which explains why--college towns. I think Northhampton is where my mom and I sang "Le Bourgeois," as we meandered down the street, but my memory could be failing too:
"Le bourgeois, all are very dumb,
the older that they get, the dumber they become!
Le bourgeois, what a bunch of pigs,
one of them is bald, and the other two wear wigs!"
(Rod McKuen's translation of Jacques Brel)
Springfield has some nice low-end houses, and also a couple of REALLY SWEET studios, if they last. It is a lot to think about. Meanwhile, I will have to try to find parking on campus tomorrow and then find History. Needless to say, it won't be the same as moving quietly through Wieboldt, through Harper, into Social Sciences, and then hovering around the second floor offices or running your hand against the paneling in 122 (?). But you can't go home again. And in any case, it would not be home any longer. It would be missing a person I love.
"I went there uncertainly, for it was foreign ground and there was a tiny, priggish, warning voice in my ear which [...] told me it was seemly to hold back. But I was in search of love in those days, and I went full of curiosity and the faint, unrecognized apprehension that here, at last, I should find that low door in the wall, which others, I knew, had found before me, which opened on an enclosed and enchanted garden, which was somewhere, not overlooked by any window, in the heart of that grey city." (EW)
Phrase of the day (and no, I'm not over it yet):
我的自行车是太复杂的。
Wǒde zìxíngchē shì tài fùzáde.
My bicycle is too complicated.
(I'm not sure if it really calls for "de" at the end, but I'll risk it.)
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Work and play
Driving down to Amherst tomorrow. Just for a quick lookaround, and maybe to schedule to sit in on a class, though I'm nervous about asking. Also to get a look at the neighborhoods. There are (weirdly) a lot of homes in the low 100s in Holyoke and Springfield, and I don't just mean the crackhouses! Though maybe they are next-door to the crackhouses, thus my exploratory mission.
I promised to build a screen-porch addition to Tina-next-door's playhouse, which is actually a doggie playhouse, which she likes to sit and have her tea in. No, not kidding! The dogs are very sickly, and she tells me they cannot touch the ground, but they now have the vet seal of approval to breathe the outdoor air I guess, so she wanted, you know, pressure treated decking, and screens, and a door, and presumably a roof to match the original playhouse, and if I want to get gingerbready with the trim, that's fine.
It actually is more work than it seems, because I have to dig holes, fill concrete sonotubes for footings, put a bolt in each, and then I can frame the actual building. And then comes the other hard part--the roofing and the screening, which I've never done. And building a door. I told them I could not dig until the ground was softer, but she cut me a check already. Yeesh! I told her to wait!
Important phrase of the day:
我的猫坐我的头。
Wǒde māo zuò wǒde tóu.
My cat sits on my head
I promised to build a screen-porch addition to Tina-next-door's playhouse, which is actually a doggie playhouse, which she likes to sit and have her tea in. No, not kidding! The dogs are very sickly, and she tells me they cannot touch the ground, but they now have the vet seal of approval to breathe the outdoor air I guess, so she wanted, you know, pressure treated decking, and screens, and a door, and presumably a roof to match the original playhouse, and if I want to get gingerbready with the trim, that's fine.
It actually is more work than it seems, because I have to dig holes, fill concrete sonotubes for footings, put a bolt in each, and then I can frame the actual building. And then comes the other hard part--the roofing and the screening, which I've never done. And building a door. I told them I could not dig until the ground was softer, but she cut me a check already. Yeesh! I told her to wait!
Important phrase of the day:
我的猫坐我的头。
Wǒde māo zuò wǒde tóu.
My cat sits on my head
Monday, March 23, 2009
I am not crazy to want a one-speed mountain bike...
...and yet, the people at Old Spokes Home looked at me like I'd got early-onset dementia. Anyway, they tell me there's nothing wrong with my blasted 21 speeds, except that I know I have some gear slippage (even in what is ostensibly first gear), which is not fun when you're trying to pedal standing up, going up a hill.
I got a temporary job with the census. Am I crazy not to apply for the historic preservation job in Alaska this summer? It's just that if I have to move to the Amherst area in August, I won't have any time left at all to enjoy my house, and given the extreme downward spiral of the world in general, perhaps this is the only and last house I will ever own before I die, so there. And all readers and/or non-readers who were invited to come visit me, well, so ends your chance. I think in my case there is a negative correlation in terms of how advanced my degree is, versus how much I get paid and how much respect I happen to receive on the job. So, as far as I can determine, when I finish my PhD, I will be living in a box by the river, "the forgotten [wo]man."
Speaking of PhDs... Finally, the U of C has posted the (long overdue) feature on Guy Alitto, the University's best professor, according to this reliable news source (me). You can read it here. But be sure to watch the video too. You get to hear Ai Kai speaking Chinese, and I especially like his colloquial use of "ai-ya," (哎呀！) in his classic Chicago Bulls story. 我惦您，尤其您的故事。 艾恺，请拜访绿色山！
I thought, yesterday, that if I had to prepare a lecture-in-a-box (you know, a 15 to 30 minute presentation for interview purposes), it might do to make it something like "Basic House Framing." I could easily discuss wall framing, layout, the difference between western and balloon frame, subfloor installation, and possibly get into roof pitches and rafter cuts. I thought this might be a good subject that most academics don't know--and then I thought, "boy, I could get myself into trouble if there's a diehard do-it-yourselfer on a faculty." I'm anticipating someone who shuns Advantech as a subfloor (although why you wouldn't be on the Advantech bandwagon I don't know), or has some alternative terminology for things (like in Florida they call a reciprocating saw (Sawzall) a "Zawsall."
I got a temporary job with the census. Am I crazy not to apply for the historic preservation job in Alaska this summer? It's just that if I have to move to the Amherst area in August, I won't have any time left at all to enjoy my house, and given the extreme downward spiral of the world in general, perhaps this is the only and last house I will ever own before I die, so there. And all readers and/or non-readers who were invited to come visit me, well, so ends your chance. I think in my case there is a negative correlation in terms of how advanced my degree is, versus how much I get paid and how much respect I happen to receive on the job. So, as far as I can determine, when I finish my PhD, I will be living in a box by the river, "the forgotten [wo]man."
Speaking of PhDs... Finally, the U of C has posted the (long overdue) feature on Guy Alitto, the University's best professor, according to this reliable news source (me). You can read it here. But be sure to watch the video too. You get to hear Ai Kai speaking Chinese, and I especially like his colloquial use of "ai-ya," (哎呀！) in his classic Chicago Bulls story. 我惦您，尤其您的故事。 艾恺，请拜访绿色山！
I thought, yesterday, that if I had to prepare a lecture-in-a-box (you know, a 15 to 30 minute presentation for interview purposes), it might do to make it something like "Basic House Framing." I could easily discuss wall framing, layout, the difference between western and balloon frame, subfloor installation, and possibly get into roof pitches and rafter cuts. I thought this might be a good subject that most academics don't know--and then I thought, "boy, I could get myself into trouble if there's a diehard do-it-yourselfer on a faculty." I'm anticipating someone who shuns Advantech as a subfloor (although why you wouldn't be on the Advantech bandwagon I don't know), or has some alternative terminology for things (like in Florida they call a reciprocating saw (Sawzall) a "Zawsall."
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Focus group
I attended a focus group for four hours the other night; it paid $100. And I have to say, I got more out of it than just the cash. For the last few months, I've been reading articles submitted to PHN--reading them for grammatical and APA errors, mostly, but also for content. And in them, there is a lot of analysis of focus group interviews. The focus group has been used mostly for qualitative research, but also for clinical concepts and other types of papers. And I was beginning to think no one knew how to ask meaningful questions, and eke out answers that went beyond the bland or general.
And then I signed up for this focus group. Now, this was for the purposes of a courtroom case (criminal) which will be held in VT in the next year, I presume. So I won't say much about the case, but... The focus group was led by an out-of-state attorney consultant named Jim Lees, who impressed me very much. At first, second and third glance, he appears genial and disarming. Yet he is a brilliant questioner.
And I suspect that while this has something to do with his West Virginia home, I also think this is a great attribute for a trial lawyer. To be unassuming, non-committal, even friendly--until it is time for the counter-attack. He has a flair for asking incisive questions, remembering names and keeping the discussion flowing, non-stop. I can see why he does this job. Anyway, it all began with some introduction to the focus group (generally--what is a focus group, no specifics) some paperwork about our background and a confidentiality agreement (which I have no intention of breaking).
We introduced ourselves, and he asked questions of each of us, with humor, and then he asked about the local economy. He would ask specific people, remembering details about their lives from the introductions (there were 12 of us). Then, he asked us about health care. I had guessed that the case in question would be a civil case, based on some of the questions about money, compensation and frivolous lawsuits. But as we got deeper into the health care discussion, I began to see that it was no civil case.
He asked things like, "what do you expect from a doctor/practitioner?" "What could be improved upon?" "Do you (specific person) have a problem with examination by a female doctor?" and so on, and then, "what would you define as the hip?" "what would be an appropriate examination of the hip?" "how would you define consent?" "is it fair to file a complaint a day after something happens, even if you didn't speak up at the event?" and more! And we had not yet heard anything about the case, but I was beginning to get a clearer idea. He used a combination of direct questioning, (us) writing things down and then reading them, and us writing and then folding the paper and giving it to him. He made sure to get around the room, quickly and efficiently; no one was allowed to dominate discussion, and quiet people were asked specific questions.
We took a break (and I should mention that this was not taped, but there were three people taking notes in the room--all in all a very expensive focus group: 36 total participants ($3600) plus hiring the note-takers ($$) and Jim Lees' fees for the ultimate report. This creates the problem of fairness, since I'm sure a poor defendant could not have afforded this) and when we came back, the case was introduced.
We heard the details of the case--slowly (it has not been widely publicized, probably because VT is very small) because as he was talking about the case, he asked us questions about our perceptions and prior knowledge: how did we understand this specialty? Did any of the facts in the biography raise questions, and why? What did we perceive happened based on the charges, and what did we want to know?
He then played a tape (a wiretap), which was awkward to listen to, and I didn't want to meet anyone's eyes, I think, and instead--so as to focus only on the tape, and not on any reactions--I doodled on my paper, looking down. Then he asked us whether we felt the recording was damaging, and why. We talked about the tape, and the charges, and we were free to ask questions--and there were many, because there were a fair amount of details to be discussed. Lees answered them to the best of his ability, and then we had to make a judgement on the charges based on what we had heard. I have no idea what the end results were, since they were private, but I imagine they were mixed. Or so I would think--I felt like I might have been an outlier in the group, but perhaps not. Everyone, regardless of education level, took this very seriously and were earnest and thoughtful in their responses.
My guess is, though he could not say, the report was commissioned for the defense, and not for the state, though I could be wrong. I will be very interested to see how the case is resolved. At any rate, THAT is a focus group.
And then I signed up for this focus group. Now, this was for the purposes of a courtroom case (criminal) which will be held in VT in the next year, I presume. So I won't say much about the case, but... The focus group was led by an out-of-state attorney consultant named Jim Lees, who impressed me very much. At first, second and third glance, he appears genial and disarming. Yet he is a brilliant questioner.
And I suspect that while this has something to do with his West Virginia home, I also think this is a great attribute for a trial lawyer. To be unassuming, non-committal, even friendly--until it is time for the counter-attack. He has a flair for asking incisive questions, remembering names and keeping the discussion flowing, non-stop. I can see why he does this job. Anyway, it all began with some introduction to the focus group (generally--what is a focus group, no specifics) some paperwork about our background and a confidentiality agreement (which I have no intention of breaking).
We introduced ourselves, and he asked questions of each of us, with humor, and then he asked about the local economy. He would ask specific people, remembering details about their lives from the introductions (there were 12 of us). Then, he asked us about health care. I had guessed that the case in question would be a civil case, based on some of the questions about money, compensation and frivolous lawsuits. But as we got deeper into the health care discussion, I began to see that it was no civil case.
He asked things like, "what do you expect from a doctor/practitioner?" "What could be improved upon?" "Do you (specific person) have a problem with examination by a female doctor?" and so on, and then, "what would you define as the hip?" "what would be an appropriate examination of the hip?" "how would you define consent?" "is it fair to file a complaint a day after something happens, even if you didn't speak up at the event?" and more! And we had not yet heard anything about the case, but I was beginning to get a clearer idea. He used a combination of direct questioning, (us) writing things down and then reading them, and us writing and then folding the paper and giving it to him. He made sure to get around the room, quickly and efficiently; no one was allowed to dominate discussion, and quiet people were asked specific questions.
We took a break (and I should mention that this was not taped, but there were three people taking notes in the room--all in all a very expensive focus group: 36 total participants ($3600) plus hiring the note-takers ($$) and Jim Lees' fees for the ultimate report. This creates the problem of fairness, since I'm sure a poor defendant could not have afforded this) and when we came back, the case was introduced.
We heard the details of the case--slowly (it has not been widely publicized, probably because VT is very small) because as he was talking about the case, he asked us questions about our perceptions and prior knowledge: how did we understand this specialty? Did any of the facts in the biography raise questions, and why? What did we perceive happened based on the charges, and what did we want to know?
He then played a tape (a wiretap), which was awkward to listen to, and I didn't want to meet anyone's eyes, I think, and instead--so as to focus only on the tape, and not on any reactions--I doodled on my paper, looking down. Then he asked us whether we felt the recording was damaging, and why. We talked about the tape, and the charges, and we were free to ask questions--and there were many, because there were a fair amount of details to be discussed. Lees answered them to the best of his ability, and then we had to make a judgement on the charges based on what we had heard. I have no idea what the end results were, since they were private, but I imagine they were mixed. Or so I would think--I felt like I might have been an outlier in the group, but perhaps not. Everyone, regardless of education level, took this very seriously and were earnest and thoughtful in their responses.
My guess is, though he could not say, the report was commissioned for the defense, and not for the state, though I could be wrong. I will be very interested to see how the case is resolved. At any rate, THAT is a focus group.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Lucia di Lammermoor
First, Lucia. So this was pretty well attended, even at the encore performance. I swung in pretty late and had to sit closer than I like, though I picked the opposite side from the man who talks about knowing the bass-player in the orchestra. I was kind of hoping some people would talk to me, but no. There were some student-types in the audience, too. At intermission, I did step into a conversation about "Milk;" the folks didn't know who he was, or what the film was about, so I enlightened them, and also told them there was an opera, "Harvey Milk." But how could they have missed the movie buzz?
Okay, the host was pretty funny--can't remember her name, but she was last year's Lucia, and she had a quirky and over the top way of introducing the acts. She got a lot of laughs. Since this production was long (over long, maybe) we got interviews of all the stars, and the director, and the stage manager, and the electrician (which I liked--yay, trades!). And all through the intermissions, we got thrilling and sometimes funny views of the set activity backstage. One poor fellow thought he was cranking away at one rolling piece, only to find he wasn't hooked up. "Oh, shit!"
They have the same moor-set from last year, which is so big they have to wheel it outside onto the avenue after the first act, and drive it away. No room backstage. Cast is dressed, I'd say, in turn of the century costume. I thought the look of the set and costumes was good. I wasn't as pleased with Donizetti's music--the overture I liked, but I didn't much care for the arias.
What was interesting was that the tenor who was supposed to sing Edgardo was sick, so we had the third tenor in this role, this season--coming straight form Eugene Onegin. He did a fine job. The fellow who sung Enrico was appropriately slimy. Anna Netrebko did a good job of going mad--and you know, all along I was thinking--she looks like someone I know. And then I remembered, she looks like Gabe, our carpenter from VT Works for Women. Not that Gabe went mad on site--although I wouldn't have blamed her if she did.
There were two intermissions (at 20 minutes a piece) plus all the interviews, and the Placido Domingo retrospective, and "The Audition" trailer, so we didn't get out until 11pm. At the concession counter, the pimply teenager said, dully, "The opera's having another intermission. We'll close the counter when it's over." They must tell the actual Met-goers that the HD performances are longer. So, I'll say this wasn't my favorite opera, but it was one of the first my mom saw, years ago, at a public school music class outing in junior high. She was living in White Plains or Mt. Vernon, and I guess the class went down to the (old) Met a couple times. Of course, we have supertitles now, which is nice, since I haven't read the librettos.
And then, in an unrelated thought-stream, I just got done with my third batch of manuscripts. It was a lot to wade through, this time, since the writing was technically better, but the actual formulation of the studies (or practice concepts, or policy papers) was less than great. The last one I read, after I was done, I felt like the authors had woven a smokescreen of jargon having to do with public health paradigms all around a basically so-so qualitative study of a group of PH nurses. I felt like I was scratching my way through shredded wheat. And it wasn't a bad idea... it just wasn't executed as well as it should have been. Lessons
Okay, the host was pretty funny--can't remember her name, but she was last year's Lucia, and she had a quirky and over the top way of introducing the acts. She got a lot of laughs. Since this production was long (over long, maybe) we got interviews of all the stars, and the director, and the stage manager, and the electrician (which I liked--yay, trades!). And all through the intermissions, we got thrilling and sometimes funny views of the set activity backstage. One poor fellow thought he was cranking away at one rolling piece, only to find he wasn't hooked up. "Oh, shit!"
They have the same moor-set from last year, which is so big they have to wheel it outside onto the avenue after the first act, and drive it away. No room backstage. Cast is dressed, I'd say, in turn of the century costume. I thought the look of the set and costumes was good. I wasn't as pleased with Donizetti's music--the overture I liked, but I didn't much care for the arias.
What was interesting was that the tenor who was supposed to sing Edgardo was sick, so we had the third tenor in this role, this season--coming straight form Eugene Onegin. He did a fine job. The fellow who sung Enrico was appropriately slimy. Anna Netrebko did a good job of going mad--and you know, all along I was thinking--she looks like someone I know. And then I remembered, she looks like Gabe, our carpenter from VT Works for Women. Not that Gabe went mad on site--although I wouldn't have blamed her if she did.
There were two intermissions (at 20 minutes a piece) plus all the interviews, and the Placido Domingo retrospective, and "The Audition" trailer, so we didn't get out until 11pm. At the concession counter, the pimply teenager said, dully, "The opera's having another intermission. We'll close the counter when it's over." They must tell the actual Met-goers that the HD performances are longer. So, I'll say this wasn't my favorite opera, but it was one of the first my mom saw, years ago, at a public school music class outing in junior high. She was living in White Plains or Mt. Vernon, and I guess the class went down to the (old) Met a couple times. Of course, we have supertitles now, which is nice, since I haven't read the librettos.
And then, in an unrelated thought-stream, I just got done with my third batch of manuscripts. It was a lot to wade through, this time, since the writing was technically better, but the actual formulation of the studies (or practice concepts, or policy papers) was less than great. The last one I read, after I was done, I felt like the authors had woven a smokescreen of jargon having to do with public health paradigms all around a basically so-so qualitative study of a group of PH nurses. I felt like I was scratching my way through shredded wheat. And it wasn't a bad idea... it just wasn't executed as well as it should have been. Lessons
Orfeo ed Euridice
It's like I have season tickets! And my box is behind a guy who won't shut up about knowing the bass player in the orchestra. So I've never seen an opera like this. It was like an operallet. There was a lot of dancing, and a huge amount of choral music, and a cast of about 100, I'd say. I think there was a clavier in the pit.
But let me start from the beginning. So this is an early opera by Gluck, in Italiano. The lead role, Orfeo, was written for a castrato, but is now sung by a mezzo-soprano in a "trousers role." The whole thing is one act--no intermission. So it begins at the funeral of Euridice, with poor old Orfeo singing the blues. The nymphs and shepherds dance their farewell, but Orfeo tells them to get lost. Everyone is wearing blue-gray, except Orfeo, wearing black, and the chorus (up above in a sort of fire-escape type thing... well, look at the pictures from the Met). Did I mention that everyone is wearing Isaac Mizrahi? Also, did I mention that Jimi Hendrix is in the chorus?
So, Amor comes down from the skies in a pink polo shirt and chinos, and tells Orfeo what he can do to get Euridice back. Very puckish. So Orfeo grabs his guitar and goes. The ghosts (wearing gray, and then stunning white) come and dance, and Orfeo has to beg to get through. He calls on their mercy, since they were lovers once, and at this point, the dancers begin to pair off. Male/female, male/male, female/female. Very avant garde decision--I liked it. Meanwhile, the chorus (which is everyone who has ever died, in the underworld, including Eleanor Roosevelt and Mark Twain and Truman Capote and Crazy Horse and Frederick Douglass) sings. Finally, they relent and Orfeo grabs Euridice and goes--duh, of course, without looking at her.
So they travel through the underworld, which is a glistening, sparkling black oily mountain. I think the set designer might have balled up gobs of electrical tape and then doused it in roof pitch. But Euridice spoils it all, by singing about how cruel he is, not to even look at her, and oh, the passion must have died, oh my, oh dear. Finally, after a lot handwringing, Orfeo looks at her, and of course, she dies and is carried back to the underworld. Well, I knew this was a tragedy, right?
Wrong!!! Just as Orfeo is about to shuffle off this mortal coil, Amor appears again. S/he says: "No, don't kill yourself! You've proved your love!" And Orfeo is reunited with Euridice, and they return to earth, where the nymphs and shepherds are dancing in bright, bright colors--m/f, m/m, and f/f as before--and Orfeo and Euridice kiss, and then there's more dancing and singing! Hoorah!
I liked this opera, even though the music was a little early-classical for my tastes (I'm more of a Romantic period type) and some of the songs or dances seem over-long, when there's no intermission. But I think the director and designers did a great job of making this opera into a visually compelling and relevant (even modern) production, and the woman who sang Orfeo (Stephanie Blythe) was, of course, quite good. I am a little puzzled as to why Gluck changed the story--but I was, after all, touched by the end.
But let me start from the beginning. So this is an early opera by Gluck, in Italiano. The lead role, Orfeo, was written for a castrato, but is now sung by a mezzo-soprano in a "trousers role." The whole thing is one act--no intermission. So it begins at the funeral of Euridice, with poor old Orfeo singing the blues. The nymphs and shepherds dance their farewell, but Orfeo tells them to get lost. Everyone is wearing blue-gray, except Orfeo, wearing black, and the chorus (up above in a sort of fire-escape type thing... well, look at the pictures from the Met). Did I mention that everyone is wearing Isaac Mizrahi? Also, did I mention that Jimi Hendrix is in the chorus?
So, Amor comes down from the skies in a pink polo shirt and chinos, and tells Orfeo what he can do to get Euridice back. Very puckish. So Orfeo grabs his guitar and goes. The ghosts (wearing gray, and then stunning white) come and dance, and Orfeo has to beg to get through. He calls on their mercy, since they were lovers once, and at this point, the dancers begin to pair off. Male/female, male/male, female/female. Very avant garde decision--I liked it. Meanwhile, the chorus (which is everyone who has ever died, in the underworld, including Eleanor Roosevelt and Mark Twain and Truman Capote and Crazy Horse and Frederick Douglass) sings. Finally, they relent and Orfeo grabs Euridice and goes--duh, of course, without looking at her.
So they travel through the underworld, which is a glistening, sparkling black oily mountain. I think the set designer might have balled up gobs of electrical tape and then doused it in roof pitch. But Euridice spoils it all, by singing about how cruel he is, not to even look at her, and oh, the passion must have died, oh my, oh dear. Finally, after a lot handwringing, Orfeo looks at her, and of course, she dies and is carried back to the underworld. Well, I knew this was a tragedy, right?
Wrong!!! Just as Orfeo is about to shuffle off this mortal coil, Amor appears again. S/he says: "No, don't kill yourself! You've proved your love!" And Orfeo is reunited with Euridice, and they return to earth, where the nymphs and shepherds are dancing in bright, bright colors--m/f, m/m, and f/f as before--and Orfeo and Euridice kiss, and then there's more dancing and singing! Hoorah!
I liked this opera, even though the music was a little early-classical for my tastes (I'm more of a Romantic period type) and some of the songs or dances seem over-long, when there's no intermission. But I think the director and designers did a great job of making this opera into a visually compelling and relevant (even modern) production, and the woman who sang Orfeo (Stephanie Blythe) was, of course, quite good. I am a little puzzled as to why Gluck changed the story--but I was, after all, touched by the end.
Manuscripts, La Rondine
So I've been editing manuscripts for PHN (Public Health Nursing). This is to earn my keep a bit between full-time jobs. I edited a Taiwanese manuscript for English (though it was pretty good, considering--it's just that Chinese doesn't have apostrophes and things) and APA format. There was a Texas qualitative study that involved only 10 people--about self care. I thought, how can you reach saturation with only 10 people and the most open-ended questions ever? The article was written well enough, but there is the fundamental weakness. There was a light and fluffy history piece--which is fine. More please! And a slightly cumbersome but well conceived article on methods of prenatal care on preterm birth populations. I have four more to work on now.
Meanwhile, I'm trying to publish something. Something. I think if Kristin (artist) and I (writer) can collaborate on a children's book, I think--I think!--we can actually make a buck. Kristin's art (Sweet Enemy Art) is swell for this (and her paintings are amazing too, but a bit darker). Meanwhile, I am trying to get a story in some kinda magazine. I submitted "Pig Roast" to The Sun. Sending "Chicago Interval" to Green Mountains Review. Have a couple of poems that are almost ready for Poetry East. Been snubbed already by Ploughshares. And I've got to finish "Mamertinus etc." I've hit a bit of a rough spot in the story. I have the beginning and the end, but no middle. In other news, I may have to beg for a real job. One that pays. Please, please, please.... And speaking of begging--how 'bout that end of "La Rondine?"
"La Rondine" (another Met Live in HD special) was pretty good. I thought that it was going to be a comedy, but alas, it was a (light) tragedy. Made all the better by the fact that Angela Gheorghiu and Roberto Alagna are married. So even if they're bloody mad at each other, they still have to go on, and fall in love at the cafe over beer, spend all their money, and weep uncontrollably over Magda's ultimate decision to tell Ruggero the truth and go back to the unpassionate, but wealthy lover (Rambaldo) she left behind. I thought, in the first act: "boy, that kissing looks real!" And it was. By the way, the maid (Lisette Oropesa) was great. She reminded me of Annette, in Mysteries of Udolfo. By the way, Magda does not die! (Is this a spoiler?)
Meanwhile, I'm trying to publish something. Something. I think if Kristin (artist) and I (writer) can collaborate on a children's book, I think--I think!--we can actually make a buck. Kristin's art (Sweet Enemy Art) is swell for this (and her paintings are amazing too, but a bit darker). Meanwhile, I am trying to get a story in some kinda magazine. I submitted "Pig Roast" to The Sun. Sending "Chicago Interval" to Green Mountains Review. Have a couple of poems that are almost ready for Poetry East. Been snubbed already by Ploughshares. And I've got to finish "Mamertinus etc." I've hit a bit of a rough spot in the story. I have the beginning and the end, but no middle. In other news, I may have to beg for a real job. One that pays. Please, please, please.... And speaking of begging--how 'bout that end of "La Rondine?"
"La Rondine" (another Met Live in HD special) was pretty good. I thought that it was going to be a comedy, but alas, it was a (light) tragedy. Made all the better by the fact that Angela Gheorghiu and Roberto Alagna are married. So even if they're bloody mad at each other, they still have to go on, and fall in love at the cafe over beer, spend all their money, and weep uncontrollably over Magda's ultimate decision to tell Ruggero the truth and go back to the unpassionate, but wealthy lover (Rambaldo) she left behind. I thought, in the first act: "boy, that kissing looks real!" And it was. By the way, the maid (Lisette Oropesa) was great. She reminded me of Annette, in Mysteries of Udolfo. By the way, Magda does not die! (Is this a spoiler?)
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Monday, December 01, 2008
Thaïs, Uganda, Renderings
Saw Thaïs last night, at the Palace 9 in Metropolitan's HD. At 20 bucks a pop, it's a lot cheaper than going down to New York and getting nosebleed seats, but maybe not quite as exciting. The HD has some special features, which is that you get sweeping views from all vistas and up close, and you get a behind-the-scenes look at backstage during the scene changes and intermissions. But that is also its downfall--the mood gets a little wrecked when you see the cast coming out of a scene, and then the guys pulling the sets about. But it was amazing to watch, nonetheless.
The Met's backstage is HUGE. The set pieces were enormous--even on rollers it took six guys to move them. They were pretty quiet. And in the third act, second to last scene, when Thomas Hampson (the baritone) was coming offstage I could swear he was wiping away tears (it's when Athanaël's grieving for Thaïs, before he sets off to see her die).
You could also see the electronics, and the director(?) signaling for "the maestro to the pit." The interviews were a little dorky, but I liked hearing Hampson's speaking voice--it's quite nice. I don't like Renee Fleming's speaking voice, but she sure nails this part, and she can look like a courtesan. I mean, Jane Eaglen or Jessye Norman couldn't really pull that off. But you know I also really liked Nicias (Schade)--he's a great character--talk about a bad guy you just can't hate. Athanaël is kind of unlikeable, as leading men go, but I guess you come around to him during the duet in the desert.
The thing that kept bothering me was that if this is supposed to be 3 or 400 AD, why is there a gun? (the supertitles say "I'll shoot you," but it could be arrows) And what's with the outfits? I'm okay with modern productions--I really liked the Beat La Boheme, but the costume and set design seemed all over time. I tried really hard to suspend disbelief, but they were quirky choices to make and I just kept noticing. If I had been in the nosebleed seats, it wouldn't have mattered--it's all so impressionistic from up there. Massenet's music is good--the parts you remember are overture, not arias, except for the duet which I really liked.
The people in the audience (my audience, in Burlington) were mildly irritating. All middle-aged or older (no problem there, but all coupled and no one to wink at) and some of them were like, "oh, I know so and so, he's the double-bass, see him there," and, "when I go down to NY I sit right there in the front row on the left..." Etc. As they say here, "Jeezum!" And there was a naggy woman/ self-important man couple that we saw in the Chinese restaurant before, and then at the show, who were positive eye-rollers. And then there was the woman who moved seats because it sounded "muffled." She needs a hearing test because the sound was spot-on. Anyway, moving on...
My mom's going to Uganda. And I'm jealous. I want to be pleased for her--it's an 8 day trip where she'll be setting up student visits at Kampala's city hospital, and maybe community health visits outside the hospital, maybe outside the city. I wish I were going. I wish I were useful. In Yale's magazine (this is a partnership with the Yale Med School and Kampala University) they said that 1/2 the population there is infected with HIV (I'm not surprised--I've heard the figures before--but seriously dismayed that things aren't improving) and that 2/3 of the patients at Mulago Hospital either don't survive or die within months of leaving. So it's a lot of palliative care--really the last resort for people who are very sick. Families move in with the patients to care for them because the hospital is so understaffed. In some ways, the city, and the university and the hospital seem modern, and in other ways not. There were pictures of the lab equipment online, as well as the laundry drying on the lawn. Anyway, like I said, I wish I were going.
As far as HIV goes, while I'm thinking about it, I've noticed a lot of startling behavior here in the US, where we should know better and have the preventative resources to avoid transmission. And still people meet up for anonymous encounters, insisting upon NO condom....? I don't know what to think. This is not the 1970s, by which I mean we can no longer claim innocence of a problem.
And finally, work. I'm doing some renderings for Chuck (Chuck's garage) and Doug (the builder). Having some problems, communication-wise, about modernity and traditional design, and what Doug wants versus what Chuck wants. Decided to go with a Greene and Greene style craftsman approach, with wooden supports under the cantilever, a shingled second story and custom doors. If Doug actually makes these doors, I will be (pleasantly) surprised.
The Met's backstage is HUGE. The set pieces were enormous--even on rollers it took six guys to move them. They were pretty quiet. And in the third act, second to last scene, when Thomas Hampson (the baritone) was coming offstage I could swear he was wiping away tears (it's when Athanaël's grieving for Thaïs, before he sets off to see her die).
You could also see the electronics, and the director(?) signaling for "the maestro to the pit." The interviews were a little dorky, but I liked hearing Hampson's speaking voice--it's quite nice. I don't like Renee Fleming's speaking voice, but she sure nails this part, and she can look like a courtesan. I mean, Jane Eaglen or Jessye Norman couldn't really pull that off. But you know I also really liked Nicias (Schade)--he's a great character--talk about a bad guy you just can't hate. Athanaël is kind of unlikeable, as leading men go, but I guess you come around to him during the duet in the desert.
The thing that kept bothering me was that if this is supposed to be 3 or 400 AD, why is there a gun? (the supertitles say "I'll shoot you," but it could be arrows) And what's with the outfits? I'm okay with modern productions--I really liked the Beat La Boheme, but the costume and set design seemed all over time. I tried really hard to suspend disbelief, but they were quirky choices to make and I just kept noticing. If I had been in the nosebleed seats, it wouldn't have mattered--it's all so impressionistic from up there. Massenet's music is good--the parts you remember are overture, not arias, except for the duet which I really liked.
The people in the audience (my audience, in Burlington) were mildly irritating. All middle-aged or older (no problem there, but all coupled and no one to wink at) and some of them were like, "oh, I know so and so, he's the double-bass, see him there," and, "when I go down to NY I sit right there in the front row on the left..." Etc. As they say here, "Jeezum!" And there was a naggy woman/ self-important man couple that we saw in the Chinese restaurant before, and then at the show, who were positive eye-rollers. And then there was the woman who moved seats because it sounded "muffled." She needs a hearing test because the sound was spot-on. Anyway, moving on...
My mom's going to Uganda. And I'm jealous. I want to be pleased for her--it's an 8 day trip where she'll be setting up student visits at Kampala's city hospital, and maybe community health visits outside the hospital, maybe outside the city. I wish I were going. I wish I were useful. In Yale's magazine (this is a partnership with the Yale Med School and Kampala University) they said that 1/2 the population there is infected with HIV (I'm not surprised--I've heard the figures before--but seriously dismayed that things aren't improving) and that 2/3 of the patients at Mulago Hospital either don't survive or die within months of leaving. So it's a lot of palliative care--really the last resort for people who are very sick. Families move in with the patients to care for them because the hospital is so understaffed. In some ways, the city, and the university and the hospital seem modern, and in other ways not. There were pictures of the lab equipment online, as well as the laundry drying on the lawn. Anyway, like I said, I wish I were going.
As far as HIV goes, while I'm thinking about it, I've noticed a lot of startling behavior here in the US, where we should know better and have the preventative resources to avoid transmission. And still people meet up for anonymous encounters, insisting upon NO condom....? I don't know what to think. This is not the 1970s, by which I mean we can no longer claim innocence of a problem.
And finally, work. I'm doing some renderings for Chuck (Chuck's garage) and Doug (the builder). Having some problems, communication-wise, about modernity and traditional design, and what Doug wants versus what Chuck wants. Decided to go with a Greene and Greene style craftsman approach, with wooden supports under the cantilever, a shingled second story and custom doors. If Doug actually makes these doors, I will be (pleasantly) surprised.
Saturday, November 01, 2008
Philadelphia, Trip 2
So a few weeks ago I made my second jaunt to Philadelphia, this time not to see ESP, but for a history conference that I ended up not being registered for. Which was fine, because I got to see more of the city. I bring to you now, as a result, "Sightseeing Philadelphia the Miriam and Sarah Way:" (Sarah is Miriam's mom, by the way)
1. Whilst driving through Westchester County (on the way there, and the scenic route) get lost in beautiful Hudson River Valley locale, and then again in Yonkers, and then again in the Bronx. Especially in the Bronx. Circle around the zoo a couple of times, and then take a crosstown street back to 95 and cross the GW Bridge.
2. Get off at the wrong Philadelphia exit, too far north (to 73?) and then travel southward through northeast Philadelphia, taking note first of the odd, squat rowhouses, and then take Frankford south, a road that is reminiscent of South Wabash and either 55th or 59th Streets south in Chicago. Note the lack of Register to Vote volunteers in a neighborhood that might want a few. Hooray for the number of Obama t-shirts, however.
3. Keep looking for Penn's Landing. Seriously, it is there. Just keep driving.
4. Check into hotel. Note freakish and disturbing and large lobby painting. Look out at the Gazela, a sleek little boat moored nearby. Roll eyes re: conferencegoers with nametags.
5. Step out for a walk. If you cross the road there and veer left, you find lower Society Hill, a neighborhood that's a lot richer than it looks, and it looks rich already. Tight, neat, skinny townhouses, many renovated post 1966, but retaining, in many cases, the original colonial look. Since the neighborhood was skids in the 60s, the areas that were torn down now have recently-built townhomes, mostly in the modern style, so as not to detract from the real thing. Check out two modern sets--the ones with the gates that are different on every one, and give the looker a sense of the interior style... and also see if you can spot the house with the cats and dogs and birds gate, and the cat and mouse weathervane. Sweet.
6. Obama placards 4, McCain placards 1. Obama wins!
7. Keep walking along Pine until you hit the antiques district. Then walk up a few block toward convention center area, but not to CC. Count number of synagogues. Walk past Broad, to 16th and Spruce and have dinner at little Warsaw Cafe. Very atmospheric, cute youngish waiter and cute middle-aged owner (?), red glow, subtlely good food, and no rush. Bring 'em some business.
8. Walk up Broad and catch a glimpse of the City Hall which looks astonishingly like Gotham City at night, what with the fog around the top, the huge cast iron eagles and the weird yellow clock. I could not see the statue of William Penn that night, for the fog. Walk on through the courtyard if they haven't closed the gates. Turn right, back towards Penn's Landing, and come across the Reading Terminal Market, and if it's still open, you could pick up something chocolate and pastry-like to take back to the hotel.
9. In the morning, cross the road and veer right, looking for breakfast. Walk past the cryptic Zahav (Gold in Hebrew) and a movie theater. There is a nearby diner, and a couple of other promising breakfast spots. Avoid the man who makes really slow bagel sandwiches. Take a glance at a few dinner spots and nightclubs if so inclined.
10. Preview Independence Park. Nix the Liberty Bell, you need (free) tickets. Carpenter's Hall sells carpenter's pencils. Thanks mom! Take a look at the $20,000 model building. Read the signs, and note Philadelphia's seeming elitism when they deign to talk about tradesmen.
11. Walk far west to Rittenhouse square and visit the Mutter museum. Think it odd, interesting, and kind of educational, but not particularly. Take in the shrunken heads, wax models, siamese twins, presidential illnesses, trepanned skulls and other weirdness. Bring back souvenier for boss's kid.
12. Look at real estate listings. Go back to the Reading Terminal Market and pick up lunch. I did not have the time or energy to go up to the museum district and do a Rocky on the steps of the art museum, but I would if I went again.
13. Dinner at Cebu, with dipping menu. Tasty. Good service. Doesn't deserve the dis it gets online. Sleep. Begin grueling drive back to VT.
1. Whilst driving through Westchester County (on the way there, and the scenic route) get lost in beautiful Hudson River Valley locale, and then again in Yonkers, and then again in the Bronx. Especially in the Bronx. Circle around the zoo a couple of times, and then take a crosstown street back to 95 and cross the GW Bridge.
2. Get off at the wrong Philadelphia exit, too far north (to 73?) and then travel southward through northeast Philadelphia, taking note first of the odd, squat rowhouses, and then take Frankford south, a road that is reminiscent of South Wabash and either 55th or 59th Streets south in Chicago. Note the lack of Register to Vote volunteers in a neighborhood that might want a few. Hooray for the number of Obama t-shirts, however.
3. Keep looking for Penn's Landing. Seriously, it is there. Just keep driving.
4. Check into hotel. Note freakish and disturbing and large lobby painting. Look out at the Gazela, a sleek little boat moored nearby. Roll eyes re: conferencegoers with nametags.
5. Step out for a walk. If you cross the road there and veer left, you find lower Society Hill, a neighborhood that's a lot richer than it looks, and it looks rich already. Tight, neat, skinny townhouses, many renovated post 1966, but retaining, in many cases, the original colonial look. Since the neighborhood was skids in the 60s, the areas that were torn down now have recently-built townhomes, mostly in the modern style, so as not to detract from the real thing. Check out two modern sets--the ones with the gates that are different on every one, and give the looker a sense of the interior style... and also see if you can spot the house with the cats and dogs and birds gate, and the cat and mouse weathervane. Sweet.
6. Obama placards 4, McCain placards 1. Obama wins!
7. Keep walking along Pine until you hit the antiques district. Then walk up a few block toward convention center area, but not to CC. Count number of synagogues. Walk past Broad, to 16th and Spruce and have dinner at little Warsaw Cafe. Very atmospheric, cute youngish waiter and cute middle-aged owner (?), red glow, subtlely good food, and no rush. Bring 'em some business.
8. Walk up Broad and catch a glimpse of the City Hall which looks astonishingly like Gotham City at night, what with the fog around the top, the huge cast iron eagles and the weird yellow clock. I could not see the statue of William Penn that night, for the fog. Walk on through the courtyard if they haven't closed the gates. Turn right, back towards Penn's Landing, and come across the Reading Terminal Market, and if it's still open, you could pick up something chocolate and pastry-like to take back to the hotel.
9. In the morning, cross the road and veer right, looking for breakfast. Walk past the cryptic Zahav (Gold in Hebrew) and a movie theater. There is a nearby diner, and a couple of other promising breakfast spots. Avoid the man who makes really slow bagel sandwiches. Take a glance at a few dinner spots and nightclubs if so inclined.
10. Preview Independence Park. Nix the Liberty Bell, you need (free) tickets. Carpenter's Hall sells carpenter's pencils. Thanks mom! Take a look at the $20,000 model building. Read the signs, and note Philadelphia's seeming elitism when they deign to talk about tradesmen.
11. Walk far west to Rittenhouse square and visit the Mutter museum. Think it odd, interesting, and kind of educational, but not particularly. Take in the shrunken heads, wax models, siamese twins, presidential illnesses, trepanned skulls and other weirdness. Bring back souvenier for boss's kid.
12. Look at real estate listings. Go back to the Reading Terminal Market and pick up lunch. I did not have the time or energy to go up to the museum district and do a Rocky on the steps of the art museum, but I would if I went again.
13. Dinner at Cebu, with dipping menu. Tasty. Good service. Doesn't deserve the dis it gets online. Sleep. Begin grueling drive back to VT.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
New Year
L'shanah tovah tikatev v'taihatem . . . l'shanah tovah tikatevi v'taihatemi
Client news: Doug and I had a meeting with Nikki and Jeff on Friday, and I brought two color axonometric sketches and a scale elevation of the proposed modifications to their house. They liked the concept drawings very much, which means my design/my interpretation of Doug's design suggestions were well received. I wouldn't mind doing this again!
What we plan to do (if, indeed, they decide they can afford it) is add a two car garage with a second story master suite with a gambrel roof and cathedral ceiling, a new eight foot wide entry-way and porch, and an expansion of the upstairs bedroods with the addition of shed dormers that span the length of the existing house.
Meanwhile, Doug and Ben looked at a house for sale in Hinesburg (a fixer) that we could modify and resell. The employees working on the house would each get a share of the profit from the sale. I'm excited about the possibilities we have now for building custom homes and doing additions and modifications to existing structures, which in the long run is more interesting and more satisfying than panelized buildings or housing development jobs that we didn't design.
Client news: Doug and I had a meeting with Nikki and Jeff on Friday, and I brought two color axonometric sketches and a scale elevation of the proposed modifications to their house. They liked the concept drawings very much, which means my design/my interpretation of Doug's design suggestions were well received. I wouldn't mind doing this again!
What we plan to do (if, indeed, they decide they can afford it) is add a two car garage with a second story master suite with a gambrel roof and cathedral ceiling, a new eight foot wide entry-way and porch, and an expansion of the upstairs bedroods with the addition of shed dormers that span the length of the existing house.
Meanwhile, Doug and Ben looked at a house for sale in Hinesburg (a fixer) that we could modify and resell. The employees working on the house would each get a share of the profit from the sale. I'm excited about the possibilities we have now for building custom homes and doing additions and modifications to existing structures, which in the long run is more interesting and more satisfying than panelized buildings or housing development jobs that we didn't design.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Western nostalgia
It rained all day today and nothing I put my hands to seemed to turn out right. On the way home I found myself missing the desert. Sometimes it seems a little claustrophic here, with the dense forests and close, low mountains. I miss those wide open space you come to as you drive over the top of the Sierras and come down into Nevada, with its primaeval alkali basins, sand mountains and odd geological formations. Scattered cowboy bars and abandoned cars and cold-water rest stops. I miss the high desert in Northern California--miles of scrub, two lane highways, Tule Lake and history. And the rolling yellow-golden hills leading out to the valley around Altamont pass, with the windmills. They stay golden until they turn brown in late winter, and grow green in February, only to turn gold again by April or May.
What I miss so often is the ability to get in the car and drive far, far away. The land and the freeways feel so much more expansive, and it's not so easy here to just get on the road and leave everythin behind. If you wanted to, from San Francisco you could drive all day Saturday and make it to Salt Lake City by evening. Have ice cream at Snelgroves, and maybe stay the night. Turn around and drive back on Sunday morning.
There's nothing like a drive through the desert to clear your head.
Also, I was thinking of certain places in the Bay Area and on through the Central Valley--ones that have some importance that I can't quite put my finger on why they do. Usually they are places that coincide with driving: the folk-art sculpture on the beach in Alameda as you're heading towards the Bay Bridge--there used to be a small plane there, and what looked like old kinetic sculpture, a naiive interpretation of the work in Hamden Square. Then there's the Nut Tree, now empty, on 80 northeast of the Bay Area, in Vacaville. And then there's the sharp downhill curve as you come out of the Caldecott tunnel into Oakland. Sometimes I'm inexplicably reminded of these things.
What I miss so often is the ability to get in the car and drive far, far away. The land and the freeways feel so much more expansive, and it's not so easy here to just get on the road and leave everythin behind. If you wanted to, from San Francisco you could drive all day Saturday and make it to Salt Lake City by evening. Have ice cream at Snelgroves, and maybe stay the night. Turn around and drive back on Sunday morning.
There's nothing like a drive through the desert to clear your head.
Also, I was thinking of certain places in the Bay Area and on through the Central Valley--ones that have some importance that I can't quite put my finger on why they do. Usually they are places that coincide with driving: the folk-art sculpture on the beach in Alameda as you're heading towards the Bay Bridge--there used to be a small plane there, and what looked like old kinetic sculpture, a naiive interpretation of the work in Hamden Square. Then there's the Nut Tree, now empty, on 80 northeast of the Bay Area, in Vacaville. And then there's the sharp downhill curve as you come out of the Caldecott tunnel into Oakland. Sometimes I'm inexplicably reminded of these things.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Art Hop/ Moldy Basements
Friday was consumed with putting up the gable ends and the trusses on the Jericho house. After a flurry of activity, we took lunch and Doug left. At 3:30 he swung by to drop off paychecks and asked me to follow him over to Nicole's house in Westford, which I gather on which we will be doing some work. Jeff was there to meet us. He informed us that they are planning an addition of a master suite (er, "bonus room" for code purposes) and two garages, as well as making some interior changes to the existing house. We took a look in the basement, at the foundation.
The basment was--well, in need of some care. There is a water source running through there, albeit slowly, but which causes it to be wet most of the time. The insulation and wood there is quite moldy, and Doug saw some remediation in the future for them--and for the time being, a respirator.
I was there because Doug intends me to do some drawings. At this point, I am unsure whether he wants renderings or scale drawings, but I have to first determine what we are actually doing to the roof line. I'm also wondering whether I'm going to get any extra pay for this, or whether I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart.
On Saturday I went to the South End Art Hop, where local artists are displayed at South End businesses and open studios. I wasn't impressed with most of the work, but there were some good pieces. It's a nice way to see the South End, though, and familiarize yourself with the businesses, studios and artists that are there.
Afterwards, I looked at some cars (will probably be trading my old Focus Kona Edition [the Surfmobile] in for something with AWD) and then went to see "Hollywoodland," the new movie about the mysterious death of George Reeves (the original Superman). I liked the movie, and I have to say that it is the most interesting thing I've seen Ben Affleck do. Of course, I think the main focus is the investigation that Louis Simo (Adrien Brody) conducts regarding the suicide/murder. Interestingly, the people in the theater under 50 (aside from myself) didn't seem to like the film. Perhaps the story doesn't resonate well with them.
I'm in these pictures of the Jericho house, can you spot me?
http://www.learywilson.com/jericho15.jpg
http://www.learywilson.com/jericho16.jpg
The basment was--well, in need of some care. There is a water source running through there, albeit slowly, but which causes it to be wet most of the time. The insulation and wood there is quite moldy, and Doug saw some remediation in the future for them--and for the time being, a respirator.
I was there because Doug intends me to do some drawings. At this point, I am unsure whether he wants renderings or scale drawings, but I have to first determine what we are actually doing to the roof line. I'm also wondering whether I'm going to get any extra pay for this, or whether I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart.
On Saturday I went to the South End Art Hop, where local artists are displayed at South End businesses and open studios. I wasn't impressed with most of the work, but there were some good pieces. It's a nice way to see the South End, though, and familiarize yourself with the businesses, studios and artists that are there.
Afterwards, I looked at some cars (will probably be trading my old Focus Kona Edition [the Surfmobile] in for something with AWD) and then went to see "Hollywoodland," the new movie about the mysterious death of George Reeves (the original Superman). I liked the movie, and I have to say that it is the most interesting thing I've seen Ben Affleck do. Of course, I think the main focus is the investigation that Louis Simo (Adrien Brody) conducts regarding the suicide/murder. Interestingly, the people in the theater under 50 (aside from myself) didn't seem to like the film. Perhaps the story doesn't resonate well with them.
I'm in these pictures of the Jericho house, can you spot me?
http://www.learywilson.com/jericho15.jpg
http://www.learywilson.com/jericho16.jpg
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Leary & Wilson Site
Website is up and running. A few photos of the coworkers:
Doug in winter
Ben goofing around in Hertz paraphenalia
Pat and Randy at Barlow
Seth on corridor framing
Jimmy demonstrating safety harness
Richard in the trusses at Jericho
the view from the deck at Barlow
More coming soon!
Doug in winter
Ben goofing around in Hertz paraphenalia
Pat and Randy at Barlow
Seth on corridor framing
Jimmy demonstrating safety harness
Richard in the trusses at Jericho
the view from the deck at Barlow
More coming soon!
Saturday, September 02, 2006
The hissing of summer lawns
Having moved to a residential neighborhood in the historic district of a very middle class section of Milton has left me with a few annoyances which I did not anticipate. All of a sudden, I feel I am a homeowner in the midst of The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit. Not that anyone in Milton, or in Vermont, wears a grey flannel suit--this is the land of jeans and workboots. But I am referring to a row of houses with picture-perfect lawns ... where the neighbors are all looking at my lawn, thinking: "when is she going to mow, for heaven sakes? This is making us look bad."
And I thought of a couple of things: how I could've bought a house in the rough North End, where people you're not sure you want to look at sit out all day in front of their houses/apartments in next to no clothing. The house I saw there was charming on the outside, and the character of the neighborhood appealed to me in a perverse sort of way, but the price was too high, and the problems too numerous.
And then I thought of Creedence Clearwater and Metallica, living in their El Cerrito houses, and of Neal Cassady's Bancroft Ave. house, or Jack Kerouac's Orlando house. How much trouble they must have caused their neighbors. Perhaps. Anyway, I wasn't really sure I wanted to move into the bourgeois segment of my life just yet. I thought--maybe I wanted to stay bohemian just a little longer. But while I do that (if I can manage it--see below) I'll have to keep up appearances on the outside, lest Mrs. Councillor Nugent decides to pay a visit.
And I thought of a couple of things: how I could've bought a house in the rough North End, where people you're not sure you want to look at sit out all day in front of their houses/apartments in next to no clothing. The house I saw there was charming on the outside, and the character of the neighborhood appealed to me in a perverse sort of way, but the price was too high, and the problems too numerous.
And then I thought of Creedence Clearwater and Metallica, living in their El Cerrito houses, and of Neal Cassady's Bancroft Ave. house, or Jack Kerouac's Orlando house. How much trouble they must have caused their neighbors. Perhaps. Anyway, I wasn't really sure I wanted to move into the bourgeois segment of my life just yet. I thought--maybe I wanted to stay bohemian just a little longer. But while I do that (if I can manage it--see below) I'll have to keep up appearances on the outside, lest Mrs. Councillor Nugent decides to pay a visit.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)