Adventure
It’s something we do everyday, the calming routine that leads to rote. Well, it’s something I do everyday.
I’ve chosen to speak of me as the royal we, thereby raising you and I together as one in the crown.
It’s the bus, and it’s how I get there, it’s how I Roll as the kids say and how it’s determined the third simple machine.
Middle of this week I needed juice, and juice is to be found on my ride home. The 39th and Hawthorne Fred Meyer has a selection.
I’ve heard it called the ghetto Freddies, but I think it’s perfectly fine. I’ve bought a wide selection of items there, from TVP to Carharts, to juice.
A similar type of juice I planned on buying this fateful day.
The 14 bus will drop you off before the corner if traffic permits, meaning if the bus is stopped, you can get off and walk. It was, I did. Hatebreed was booked at the Hawthorne Theater, so lip rings and black hoodies did abound. The easy mark of rebellion for the generation of now, a future of minimum wage and vacant tug jobs for men who will wear their name on their chest and neglect to change the filter after their Thursday shift at Jiffy Lube. In this sea of aborted potential shone a man. A man who never drops the light smile from a visage that would not look out of place on Mt Rushmore, be that a product of his skin tone or features. Mona Lisa as a man as envisioned by Gutson Borglum; at 1:1 scale. It was Robert. My friend.
Robert was wearing a raincoat: though the weather was not just pleasant, it was delightful. I might not have noticed the raincoat as such, but the hood was over his head, tightly drawn as if he were a Mennonite woman. Pleasantries exchanged, I asked why he was there. He was there for work. I was willing to help. Robert’s stoicism is a poor match for Dreyfuss, but I am one with the spirit of Estevez, the one true son of Sheen. We would stand true on this corner, amongst the teens, passed by Trimet busses, and look for his subject. A burglar, enemy of Freedom, about to find out the only Thought more important is Justice. Robert was looking for a burglar, and thought he donned a protective vest underneath that raincoat, I would brave lawlessness protected only by a plaid shirt.
Robert is cop. And I helped.
A gallant foil in the fight against crime, appearing to be just another weary traveler at the stop completing Robert’s costumed performance.
That of lawman en mufti.
Until the light changed, then I left and got my juice.
translated from the original French by Le Corbusier
I’ve chosen to speak of me as the royal we, thereby raising you and I together as one in the crown.
It’s the bus, and it’s how I get there, it’s how I Roll as the kids say and how it’s determined the third simple machine.
Middle of this week I needed juice, and juice is to be found on my ride home. The 39th and Hawthorne Fred Meyer has a selection.
I’ve heard it called the ghetto Freddies, but I think it’s perfectly fine. I’ve bought a wide selection of items there, from TVP to Carharts, to juice.
A similar type of juice I planned on buying this fateful day.
The 14 bus will drop you off before the corner if traffic permits, meaning if the bus is stopped, you can get off and walk. It was, I did. Hatebreed was booked at the Hawthorne Theater, so lip rings and black hoodies did abound. The easy mark of rebellion for the generation of now, a future of minimum wage and vacant tug jobs for men who will wear their name on their chest and neglect to change the filter after their Thursday shift at Jiffy Lube. In this sea of aborted potential shone a man. A man who never drops the light smile from a visage that would not look out of place on Mt Rushmore, be that a product of his skin tone or features. Mona Lisa as a man as envisioned by Gutson Borglum; at 1:1 scale. It was Robert. My friend.
Robert was wearing a raincoat: though the weather was not just pleasant, it was delightful. I might not have noticed the raincoat as such, but the hood was over his head, tightly drawn as if he were a Mennonite woman. Pleasantries exchanged, I asked why he was there. He was there for work. I was willing to help. Robert’s stoicism is a poor match for Dreyfuss, but I am one with the spirit of Estevez, the one true son of Sheen. We would stand true on this corner, amongst the teens, passed by Trimet busses, and look for his subject. A burglar, enemy of Freedom, about to find out the only Thought more important is Justice. Robert was looking for a burglar, and thought he donned a protective vest underneath that raincoat, I would brave lawlessness protected only by a plaid shirt.
Robert is cop. And I helped.
A gallant foil in the fight against crime, appearing to be just another weary traveler at the stop completing Robert’s costumed performance.
That of lawman en mufti.
Until the light changed, then I left and got my juice.
translated from the original French by Le Corbusier
posted by The Cruise at 3:08 PM
5 Comments:
Some urban/social geographers utilize Le Corbusier's writings on the nature of space. One of my early mentors, Byron Miller, drew upon his words for his research in the spatial nature of the rise of Anti-Nuclear groups.
Fact: Frank Lloyd Wright did more than any other man in the 20th century to encourage urban sprawl.
Fact: Le Corbusier did more than any other man in the 20th century to encourage inadequate housing for minorities.
Fact: mr henry drives a jaguar.
Was Le Corbusier the neighborhood in a tower?
Yes, "plan voisin".
The seed of the projects.
During spurious days in architecture, I and my friend were the only ones standing against the tide of classmates and professors in a theory class that purported to dictate that design can solve societal problems. The discussion specifically revolved around what design methods could be used to solve the social problems that had developed in Cabrini Green Projects in Chicago. I do not discount the power of design, especially in evoking human emotion or even directing action, but the notion that design changes could possible promote any type of real societal/cultural change in a positive direction is absurd. This is where I formalized that many, I do not say all, architects and possibly others in design fields may take themselves a bit too seriously.
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