This week’s written snapshots.
The great green lady watched over a verdant oasis guarded by emerald waterfowl.
She jumped on a boulder.
He pointed at his sister.
“Statue of Liberty!”
She foisted an invisible torch.
He played by himself,
She made a new friend .
Vicky was her name,
He didn’t want to leave the park.
We fed birds at the pond,
The geese are big and slow,
Small ducks darted for the crumbs.
We escaped the descending onslaught of pigeons.
䷾
Our world opens up,
Our time grows shorter,
Crossing the river,
A fox wets her tail.
December 21, 2022
20 May 2023
~
We re-shape our lives for a pink rubber unicorn with a pastel yellow horn.
Chasing her brother,
she slipped on the tile,
and chipped her tooth.
She came home with a tiny unicorn eraser.
The boy asked about the “vet”.
He threatened to brush his teeth —
Badly!
He wants to visit the dentist.
䷥䷁
honest
non-action
hidden effort
no end
January 4, 2023
20 May 2023
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Celestial carabiners clanked across charming cliffs, calling coyly, “Come climb, come climb.”
My parents dropped by our place in the morning to give the kids polished stones from a roadside stand on the way to the Grand Canyon. After they left, the girl sorted the collection before coming inside for breakfast.
20 May 2023
~
OPM.41 a Glaze of Blory
I wrote this in August of 2021, on what should have been the first day of instruction in my new Education Academic Building at Nevada State College.
~
I walked onsite to address an issue that popped up in the new building.
I wondered if first day of school would bring a legion of students sharing the latest version of the newest germs.
It was dead quiet.
Just like the last eighteen months.
Ain’t that how life messes with our dreams?
We imagine a blaze of glory.
We get a puff and a fizz.
Next time won’t be a pandemic, but it’ll be something.
Moments are never pristine in real life.
But if the work was done right,
Maybe that imperfect flash might leave a lasting mark.
~
Following my music theme from the past couple of OPM letters, I just came across this Bandcamp Weekly show. It’s exactly what I consider “cultured” music — eclectic, jazzy, world-ish, safely edgy. I feel seen. The girl calls it “restaurant music”.
Surfing on Bandcamp, I stumbled across Mille Morceau which has a surreal, architectural album cover. As I stared at it, I suddenly felt destabilized. Is this AI? The ground fell out from under me. It was a physical reaction even though I was just lying in bed. I need to explore this further.
I’ve been excited to read the newsletter 23 Sherwood Drive every day. Jo Paoletti collects journal notes over the years, interspersing it with commentary. As I slide past middle age, I treasure reading the reflections of someone who is a few steps ahead of me. It’s voyeuristic and edifying.
~
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Thanks for reading!
Justus Pang, RA
19 May 2023
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Standing on a chair, he raised his right arm with a weighty buoyant triumph.
Mama cut the ears of corn.
Gave us two pieces each.
He pulled out two chopsticks from the drawer,
For himself and his big sister,
I inserted the bamboo into the soft cob.
Corn on a stick!
He waved his yellow lollipop at me,
I inserted the back of the chopstick into his second piece.
He raised the golden barbell and announced,
I’m a strong guy!
䷯䷜
to
drink
out of a
clean well
shared
joy
18 May 2023
~
The bark expanded like a paper mesh, broken lines flowing above the undulating trunk, marks of the growing inside tearing to the outside.
A lizard sunned on a tree stump.
With a bright blue chin.
It ran away, then stopped.
Flashing pushups, it watched my withdrawal.
Spaceship walk!
He climbed onto my back for a better view of the lake.
As I put him down, he grabbed my collar and whispered,
Actually, I don’t want to walk anymore.
As we walked towards the pond,
A duck flew in to join two companions.
Quack.
Quack! Quack!
Quack.
Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack!
Quack!
It flew away.
A jackrabbit froze on gravel road.
It darted of when the kids clomped down the hill.
We told you to stop!
But he started first!
We saw a propane grill on a pickup truck.
Someone people are better at partying,
Even at a State park,
Especially at a State park.
䷏䷀
Family moments
gather like a
Hairpin.
the Sun
sets behind
a mountain Ranch
17 May 2023
~
Critter
Teaching is the role of the institution.
Education is the task of the student.
The critic’s job is two-fold — to say what is on their mind and to give the student something new to think about.
Two years ago, I was a critter for a Master’s studio in Hospitality Design. It was the last review of their academic careers, ending on the whimper of a zoom call.
Day-long zoom conferences aren’t fun for the critters either, but I broke up the screen time monotony by grabbing the laptop and doing chores during presentations of students who had obviously mailed it in. It was nice that I could write a couple terse notes in chat, instead of giving them a tongue lashing as I might have done in person.
In spite of this sterile environment, it was a pleasure to be reminded of the dream of Architecture. I’m so buried in the practice, I forget the possibilities. I have always had a practical bent, and this was a fun antidote. Of course everything was crazy and impractical. That’s the point. They’ve got the rest of their careers to be as boring as I am.
Form, the design itself
Formula, your process
Formal, the craft – how you do it.
The other benefit was learning from other architects. When I was in school, it always seemed like the critters were preening in front of the other critters. Now I know why — they were talking to each other! Wes Robbins stood out as an older architect who shared his rich experience throughout the review, including both quotes in this letter.
Before this event I had attended a couple of “gallery” reviews where the folks pin up in the hallway and the critters mingle and chat. However, I’ve never been a part of a formal review.
This is harder than I expected. It’s not easy to stay alert and judge stuff all day, with a hard shift every half hour. It was tiring to meet the students where they were at. I see why in-person reviews can go vicious. I could be sanguine about shoddy work cause housework salvaged the time. If I had to sit in a chair to watch the craft be disrespected by the worst of the presentations … whohooo …
Hopefully the kids got something from their last event in school. By now, they’ve been in this cruel practice for two years. I hope they’re persevering and growing — this profession needs them more than they need us.
16 May 2023
~
Stefania, Kalush Orchestra, 2022
Congratulations to Loreen for winning this year’s Eurovision Contest with “Tattoo“. But power ballads aren’t my thing.
So let’s celebrate this most flamboyant of contests with last year’s ridiculous winner. “Stefania” is exactly what I want from a Eurovision winner — an over the top, earnest mix of pop and ethnic sounds, and a little (or lot) trashy. As a cis hetero male, I don’t mind a little titallation, but this sausage party checked every other box as well as being a geopolitical sentimental favorite.
I first heard about the song contest on an early No Agenda podcast (before I tired of its conspiracy theory schtick) and followed it with the rise of Youtube. One of my favorite memories in Houston was watching all three broadcasts of the 2011 contest as the computer overheated in our small apartment.
Then two little humans got in the way of this time-wasting pleasure.
We live in an artificial world where the seasons are blunted by technology. It’s helpful to overlay texture onto the year. It’s one of the appeals of sport and Eurovision does the same with it’s process of submissions, national, preliminary, and final contests.
Not as nourishing as a CSA box, but a lot more outlandish.
Between the kids’ school calendar and work’s legislative cycle I’ve got all the artificial seasonal markers that I can handle at the moment. Maybe I’ll return to Eurovision after I retire….it might be more fun than adopting a liturgical calendar.
16 May 2023
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Thanks for reading!
Justus