Doing a binge-re-watch of Scrubs, ( DO NOT JUDGE ME) and there is an episode where one of the doctors decides he will not kiss his son.
I used to put my son to bed for any number of years. Eventually, he said I shouldn’t kiss him goodnight anymore. I have a grizzly face, why would I argue?
It was, of course, his decision, and I didn’t bother to argue or force. I mean, personal autonomy starts at home, right? We all grow up, and the arc of children launching involves disconnecting. Circle of life and that little shit has to support me when I go insane.
on the last post, I mentioned that today, I had a building walk-through in review for an RFP that is upcoming. Keep in mind that I do not often respond to Requests for Proposals, which are often sent out in shotgun fashion to any architect that shows up in the first 20, or 30, or 40 Google search results. The last couple that came in through the mojo wire I read and passed, and the last one I started considering, I abandoned when the structural engineer I called had already heard (and passed) on two other architects who had already called him. So really, the only reason I went further on this one is that it’s in my neighborhood and Young Zombie attended a preschool that was in the building previously. Also, it’s a progressive Episcopalian church, so I figured they wouldn’t set me on fire.
One of the things about my practice is that I get very little work from marketing kind of avenues; most of my projects come from referrals or repeat clients. In fact, I have one client that I have designed a residence for three times (one small colonial house on the East Side, an extensive and exotic rooftop penthouse condo downtown, and a suburban estate, FWIW).
I once read that Frank Lloyd Wright sometimes said he was never the committee choice, he was usually too risky and committees are notoriously risk-averse.
So I gathered with six other groups in this complex of buildings to review the existing. In no particular order, and with an approximate employee number: ZDG (100); UWRS (40); Groth (30); MSI (150); PRA (75); QA (10); and me. It is a relatively small community in the city, and I had met several of the professionals there and knew all of the companies by reputation (and interviewed at most of them at one time or another!). And, in a turn that I fully expected, my former partner also turned up. Am I a bad zombie for having kind of perverse satisfaction in seeing her on crutches due to a fall from her bike?
The big difference between my practice and all of theirs is that they have a marketing plan and spend some amount of money and effort on pursuing these type of cattle-call long shot proposals. I spend my time and effort into my work and design, and my reputation is based on that, not on glad-handing. Oh, I am perfectly congenial and can handle a professional gathering with complete equanimity, and I made small talk as appropriate and made other professional small talk during the 3 hours or so we were on site.
And I have made contact with other professionals to team up with on the project: a structural engineer, HVAC engineer, Plumbing engineer, and Electrical engineer. Ostensibly, the proposals are due on 9/27, which is no problem at all, at least conceptually.
But the gathering and walk through went pretty much as I expected. The building is an older worship building, with a couple of additions and remodeling over time. The staff involved in the building were a bit negative on it, but having been through these rodeos many times, the building’s basic elements are predominantly intact and there is nothing that amounts to a deal breaker that makes any part of the building unusable. If anything, their biggest problem is that there is far more space than they need, and it should be reduced or sourced out to tenants. Actually, it’s a very handsome building and I would be gratified to help the parish move into a new era and fresh life for the structure.
But that’s really neither here nor there. As I walked home – it was a truly gorgeous fall day in Milwaukee, and like I said I live in the neighborhood, I live 6 blocks away- I thought further about the walk-through and the other people who participated. And I started to consider Wright’s words; what is the value of the work I will need to do to compile a responsive proposal? When there are bigger name heavy hitters in the mix? Does it matter that I am a neighbor? (probably not). By the time I got home, I was ready to skip it altogether, but there was a message from the mechanical engineer….
So here’s one where I am not hoping for help from you helpful 3 or 4 faithful readers. Mind you, I won’t mind feedback or opinions, but you lot are an opinionated bunch of fuckers.
Because I have decided, for any number of reasons, to follow this one through. I’ll go against these bigger more corporate firms who have ‘name recognition’ and ‘connections’. I won’t say ‘more established’, because one of the attendees was my former partner whose firm I was a founding partner of. Yes, I ended that sentence with a preposition here’s your fucking refund.
But I will go in because this is a step up and forward, and I can use it. Plus, I need these bigger firms to KNOW WHO I AM. Last night, my concert going buddy asked me if I wasn’t well known by the quality of my work and I had to give him the knowledge that that is hardly ever considered in consideration for hiring of architects.
So I am in. I am drafting, in my mind, the rudiments of the proposal and I am working out some ways of throwing shade in a backhanded way at the larger firms (for instance, with my ex-partner in the mix, my resume instantly changed to say I was a Founding Partner in Charge of Design at the firm she took control of). My references will be stellar, because they are all personal and direct connections with people of high stature in the community. My track list of similar projects will be impressive, but won’t be the most impressive; however based on the walk through, I can directly relate parts of them to portions of the building they would like to address; and a Marketing Person in one of these firms will not be able to see that. I did that on site in one instance, asking a question of the rector about the character of window leaks because I had experienced similar problems with a steel lintel that leaked into the windows in a particular way.
I am in. I would, indeed, like to expand my practice. I think I have learned some good and bad things in my history, and think I could grow it better and be a much better leader and administrator going forward. And even if that isn’t in the cards, being a believable competitor among the Big Boys of the local community will be worthwhile in itself; I have proven myself from a practical standpoint as well as having received several design awards.
I second guessed myself on this, and then reconsidered, then shot it down again and then talked myself back into it. Yes, I have a very active internal life, and AT LEAST a dozen voices that will chime in to argue at a moment’s notice. But, for now, I AM IN.
Nearly forty years ago, I was on the home stretch of high school and thinking about college (not sure I was going yet, but thinking about it. Mainly because my father insisted, and Dad, I Thank You). And there was a song on the radio, a sound I had never really heard before and lyrics about sunglasses. So when the band in question played the Madison Coliseum (hereafter called the Great Clamshell because:
I decided I would roll the dice and go solo to check it out, as Joe Bob Briggs will eventually say.
Since I was flying solo, I didn’t bother drinking anything and after the opening bands I was sitting on the main floor, when two absolutely shitfaced girls came stumbling by, tripping over me, kind-of-apologizing then one of them barfed on the floor next to me. I found it kind of inconceivable they paid to get in then got completely blotto before the main act even started.
ZZTop changed most of my thoughts on what a live show would be. They had almost nothing on stage, other than a drum kit, two mike stands, and ranks upon ranks of Marshall 4×4 cabinets. And then only three guys come out, with ridiculous beards. But when they started playing, all ridiculousness stopped, and complete no-nonsense rock and roll commenced, with a Texas twang. I knew hardly any of the songs, but I loved it all. It was loud, and the synchronized shuffle and on-stage communication was entrancing.
I was not aware of the backstory, that after their run of their first albums, they all decided at the same time to go incommunicado, independently. Nobody knew if they were coming back, not even them; but eventually they did, and started making a dent on radio with Deguello, containing songs like “I Thank You”, “I’m Bad, I’m Nationwide”, and, of course, “Cheap Sunglasses”. But here they were, and they rocked me hard.
Since then, I’ve had the chance to see the “Texas House Band” (as Molly Ivins referred to them) several times, never disappointed.
So. Tonight. My concert buddy had asked if I wanted to go to the 50th anniversary (!) show, with Cheap Trick opening, and I figured, well, I’ve seen both of them multiple times, so felt no huge compulsion.
But things being what they are, and things going as they will, Concert Buddy’s date fell through, so I said I would go, nothing to lose. Except I have been in the middle of trying to catch up on work after vacation, and I have a building walk-through for an RFP tomorrow morning. The show was at the BMO Pavilion, easily the prettiest open air venue in the State.
So, after 40 years or so, I found myself in a similar situation. Watching ZZTop kicking ass, staying sober while the people around me were getting well lubricated (although way older than before) and more-or-less behaving myself. They, and Cheap Trick were good as ever, and produced a pretty effective greatest hits overview of my high school and parts of my college years.
Although when I got home I poured a couple of bourbons and sent out about $15,000 in invoices.
so, tonight we had a party. It’s one we do every year, really ever since we bought a house. It’s a combination house warming/anniversary party, and friends and family always get invited. We drink and talk smart, eat food that would cause our many doctors to look at us with the hairy eyeball, and tire the dog right the fuck out.
It is often the only time we see many of these folks, and we all have a grand old time. But the friends become scarce and family starts to fade. Mortality takes its toll, and where once we would party like college students, now we are old people. Hell, even most of our kids have aged out, and now don’t really want to spend a night with the parent’s old clueless friends.
Oh! Hey! I have to mention the kewl gift I got from one of my bestest friends. This takes a bit of backstory; we got to be friends while playing league darts for a local dive bar (steel tips, not those namby-pamby machine darts) and competitive drinking. At one point, his father wanted to get a computer, and he asked me if I could help set up the old man, which of course I was happy to do. Well, his dad and I hit it off, and in addition to becoming his IT department, also became good friends. Sadly, a few years back R’s dad had to enter a nursing home and then passed, leaving R with a shitload of debris and belongings. And amongst those, was a certain item.
R knew that his dad meant it for something, since it was published well before we ever did the Macintosh stuff together, and it must have took work to track down.
R knew that his father would love that I now have it, R was happy that I would have it, and I am tickled fucking pink to have it. It is a pristine copy of the inaugural, number one issue of Macworld, from 1984:
Now, here’s the thing about this that makes it something I will put in a safe place and treasure:
I am not entirely sure about R’s future, and I fear that it may not be long before this is what I have to remember him by.
When I first knew him, he just was an ebullient drinker. But as time went by, he lost several jobs because he would drink at lunchtime and become inconsistent and unreliable. Eventually he became a cab driver (and a good one! at one year’s Milwaukee Film Festival, there was a short film about him!) and all the while, we remained good good friends.
But at the same time, other friends were fading and ghosting, not wanting to be seen as ‘enablers’. While I was seeing R being abandoned and becoming more isolated; I have since learned that is often the result.
R eventually ended up in Hazelden, and worked to become sober for quite a long time. But again, as is often the case, the addictions snuck back in; yes, addictions both smoking AND drinking; the classics!
R has been off and on, sober or sober-ish, and then backsliding. Tonight, he was abjectly apologetic that he was too drunk to visit me in the hospital on my Events (which I assured him I never held against him and instantly accepted his apology, trying to assuage his feeling of guilt).
But things got worse. He had a doctor diagnose him with cirrhosis of the liver (which may have been erroneous, but nonetheless alarming) and had throat cancer discovered.
Thankfully, we once had a President and government that actually gives two squeaky shits about the normal fucking people, and expanded the range of health care coverage; R was able to obtain health insurance on the ACA markets, and went to the doctors for the first time in years. Not only the alarming things up above, but started getting his diabetes under treatment. Thanks Obama (not sarcastically) and fuck you Republicans (in complete earnestness).
he had the throat cancer successfully treated and removed, hurting like a motherfuck.
R and I are not only good friends, but also concert buddies of the first order. I recently sent him a text, remarking on the upcoming concert schedule, that I had seen all that I cared, and nothing was coming up. Recently, we saw the Outlaw Music Festival at Summerfest, Jason Isbell at the BMO Amphitheater, and the incomparable Figgs at the tiniest East Side bar, Circle A.
So I spent the late evening, dialing up our favorite songs to give him hope and courage; Jason Isbell, Trapper Schoepp, Okkervill River, Sally Timms, Trampled by Turtles, Mountain Goats, Gaslight Anthem….basically anything visceral and affirming, that might give him the feeling that there is value in staying around. We talked late into the night, and I sent him off to spend the night with his fuzz bucket dogs and aggressive greenwing macaw named Biko and telling him he could be strong enough to get through.
Rory is the kind of guy that everybody loves. He admitted tonight, that his happy-go-lucky life of the party persona is a front – it kind of had to be, I think – he was not only an instant lover of our first dog Mieshka, he also came up with a hilarious drunken backstory at at the first party we had her, identifying her as a ‘Kalaka’ a fictitious Russian attack breed. Check it; this dog is only lethal if you are allergic to dog licking;
But….yeah. I don’t know how this ends, except like that line from the Mountain Goats song “this scene ends badly, as you might imagine….”
But it is a one time I wish I wasn’t joking about this zombie thing, so I could bring R back in the worst case. Because he would, undoubtedly, be an AWESOME zombie.
When MTV still did meaningful music, there were two or three times they made a difference. One, oof course, was the Nirvana unplugged broadcast, and then there were two times they had REM do it.
And here you go (mikey should love this one) featuring the goddess Patti Smith:
Because I had the weirdest day in my office today, in that I came in and the internet connectivity was wonky. Now, this is not that weird and a bit of rebooting of the hardware usually makes it stop. But this time it didn’t
I spent much time on the phone with actual humans, and we tried several things. Of course, the service provider would not do anything past their machines, which seemed to be functional. So I reworked my routers, and reset all my settings, swapped out my routers, and nothing worked. In the meantime, I was using my phone as hotspot.
So in a final call, I was hoping for a schedule of a technician, and the phone tech managed to ask me about which piece of hardware I was plugged into. And here was the array of shit they had installed and left me plugged into:
The big tall thing is my Apple router, and the other four things are….something else. I brought them all in for internet and phone, and the cost is like 1/4 of what AT&T was charging me. But they had me plugging my router into the tall thing with blue lights, and that’s where we we falling down. So after talking with the tech, she asked me if I was plugged into the short thing, and I said no, they told me to plug into the tall thing. So when I plugged into the short thing, everything turned green.
Here’s the weird thing. The white box on the left is a wireless router that I apparently never used. Never asked for. but it was wired in.
So, the upshot is that the guys wiring this shit didn’t know what they were doing, I don’t know what the fuck I am doing, and somehow it’s working now.
As he does, on everything he does. But his show reminded me of a younger zombie.
A zombie who joined a couple of buses of people., going to DC (my first time!) to attend a rally in support of a final push to ratify the fucking ERA. Because, of course, America! where equal rights has always been a controversial idea. It did seem, at the time, that a few loud voices would help push it over the finish line, and holy hell, how optimistic was I? All of it, Katie.
Kind of distressingly, a reporter from a Madison paper stopped and interviewed me while we sat on the Mall. Ignored, of course, my wife and all the other women around, to do a ‘fish out of water’ curiosity rocks piece about an actual MAN that supported the ERA. Because, fucking patriarchy. FWIW, even my parents, who had no knowledge of our participation, noticed the interview, which was funny as hell.
One of the things Oliver brought back to cognition was the existence of ambulatory horrorshow Phyllis Schlafly. I understand if you wanted to never think about her ever again, I know I didn’t. But Oliver detailed the intensity of her hate for her gender and how ardently she worked to make sure they did not have legal protection for their rights. Yes, she is one of the most horrible people that had ever existed.
We are one state away from ratifying the ERA.
Illinois ratified the ERA last year, which was the 37th state.
Phyllis is a loon, who is a tool of the patriarchy. She lied. She once thanked her husband for allowing her to make a speech. She lacquered her hair. I really did not like her, and I am not happy that I still have to think about her. Tolkien would have left her out of Lord Of The Rings as too evil to be believable. I have read several alternative novels about hell, and none of the levels seem to suit her perfidy.
I don’t like her, is the feeling I am trying to get across here.
But most of all, let’s think about this. I went on this demonstration THIRTY FUCKING YEARS AGO. This is a terrible statement on our country’s lying about our dedication to equal rights. Yeah, like all those years of enslavement, rape and brutalization of brown people, and the way we are now putting slightly brown children in cages is not able to demonstrate that we have never, not really, grown beyond it.
Well, I started out being kind of cheered by John’s show, and now I think I will start drinking. Anyways, here is his show….
I have visited these sites, where incredibly brave people decided to strap themselves into prisons and ;punch themselves in to the unknown.
I was child when humans landed on the moon, but I am almost certain we watched; everyone did, you know?
yes, people did. It’s a terrible amount of power and it is easy for it to go sideways with no warning. I have visited the site of the Apollo 1 tragedy, and while I have little empathy for the haunting folks, I will say that that is the only place that I have ever visited that I believe is completely haunted.
I support all of our efforts to get off of this doomed gravity well of a planet. develop the fukcing moon, send us to Mars, let’s develop long term ships to nearby suns. We have already shown that we have about half of our our polity, that is unable to even comprehend that they are going to suffocate themselves Let’s fucking go.
When I was a child, I watched our civilization reach out, against all the terror and risk, and land on our nearest planetary neighbor. It inspired me. I built all the models, I still do. We visited Huntington, and we spent like an hour with an actual rocket scientist who had not only flew one of these explosive devices, but also walked out in the completely terrifying unsupported spacewalk efforts. We did not check his dick, but we imagine it was immense, as were his fucking balls. How do you design a spacesuit to accommodate the size of those fucking balls?>
I once visited the EAA when they had Spaceship One do a fly by. It was awesomely loud
And then we had Star Trek, which demonstrated we could hope for love and fellowship against hate and violence.
