A STRANGE PLACE

GREETINGS and salutations, race fans!

The week before last I was in Boston. But, once again, due to time constraints and some business out Sudbury way, I had no time to snap, crackle or pop any photos of consequence. (Albeit one that I sent to my good friend the Leap Star of the Green Monster from the freeway -"Go Sox," he says. "Go Seattle," I say.)

At any rate, I had the opportunity to travel to Albuquerque as a part of a larger contingency. Call it a "Traveling Road Show" Or TRSH or TRASH for short. We went, we saw, we power pointed, we went home. Getting to New Mexico was a study in the events beyond one's control. Getting home was an even stranger tale.

The first thing I noticed on the plane from Phoenix to Albuquerque (ABQ) was that there were outdated screens in front of my seat. These, I was told, were from an era that thought first class passengers would like to play Pong on their way to high powered businees meetings. (What the...) The screens were still intact, but the phones and the video games were gone. (A way too early version of Jet Blue.) My screen had this strange, almost druggie looking, hodge podge of strange swirls and, in the lower left corner, either a deadly fish from somewhere South of the border or, as I liked to think of it, the bastard love child of a hash smoking hippie and an out of this world alien that crashed in Roswell, New Mexico.

Shortly after flipping the whole UFO gig over in the melon, the pilot came on and said, "We are going to go to El Paso due to Microbursts happening at the Alburquerque airport. We will wait there until these storms pass and then return to Alburquerque." Microbursts, my lower extremities! These are part of the whole UFO coverup thing. Probably some gray or blue creature buzzing the tower and the gov boys were trying to squash the amount of eyewitnesses. To prove this to myself, I looked out the window and, sure enough, I saw ominous dark clouds on the horizon and then a zip of bright light. AH HA! You can call it lightening, but I know the truth.

At any rate, we finally made the Phoenix, El Paso, ABQ love circuit and arrived in ABQ three hours late. I was tired and frustrated and finally got my car and rolled into downtown ABQ. I stayed at a hotel, I can't tell you the name (HAMPTON INN MIDTOWN) and was not pleased to discover a wardrobe for the closet that must have been designed by the pygmies of central Africa. This thing couldn't even hold the ironing board in the fully locked and upright position. Wow! This is great for hanging up pants! (Picture above.)

The next morning I awoke to a much better mood and absolutely no illusions about UFOs or any of that nonsense. I went and did the gig with the others and then stayed around to talk to some architects. After that, I was told, it behooved me to check out a cool little zinc cone that is part of a project on the U of NM campus. I did. It was cool. I then rolled back towards Antoine Predock's studio. If the address I received was correct, then the photo of the white building with the black van is Predock's studio. No sign. Nothing. This seemed a little odd to me that the AIA GOLD winner would be so nondescript in his building. But then again, maybe not... (http://www.predock.com/) You absolutely must like a dude who likes Vincent Black Shadows. I am more of a British guy -though Antoine does have a Norton on his site. I prefer the late 60's and the early 70's. Anything BSA, Norton, Triumph. I also dig the old military bikes. Like the Dnepr (http://www.dneprworld.com/)... though I hear so-so things about the newer Dneprs with the retro look. But I digress.

After swinging by Antoine's place I took a side street (I think it was Carlisle or something like that) up to Bart Prince's original home and studio. On the way I watched a lady get arrested outside of a laundromat while stopped at a light. Then I rounded a couple of corners and... HOLY UFO! Just kidding. Bart's studio and neighboring cantilevered project are really cool. Bart is buddies with a guy I worked for briefly in Oregon. Bart now lives at the base of the Sandia mountains. The distant shot is as close as I could get to his new house. Think windy roads, watercolor skies, and pissed off locals. "Who the heck is that guy with the phone driving slowly back and forth from one cul-de-sac to the next, Marge?" Bart Prince is one of those architects a lot of people either hate or love. But love him or hate him, the guy knows how to build. (I think this is very cool... anyone can draw... can you build?) A very good friend of mine worships the ground Bart builds on. Now, to give you an idea of how cool Mr. Prince is... I asked my friend in Oregon if he thought that Bart would be open to a request for an autograph. My friend told me, "Yes." So I wrote Mr. Prince on behalf of my other friend in Minnesota and low and behold Mr. Prince emailed me back AND sent a nice package of material to my buddy in Minnesota. Compare this to some other famous architects and the difference is night and day, or sun and moon, or UFO and Microburst. (http://www.bartprince.com/) If you like Bart, check out Bob Oshatz at http://www.oshatz.com/.

The next morning, I pulled off of the freeway to get gas and drove by a graveyard in the shadow of the interstate. Freaky. I stopped and bought gas and watched some rough looking dudes sell a CD player replete with dangling wires to a girl in a low rider Honda. I left ABQ impressed by the beauty but uneasy about the strange things that seem to take place on the way there, while there and on the way back. I arrived in Phoenix just in time to see a cop on a bike in the airport take into custody a drunk at the Martini Bar. He left his bike and marched the guy down the hall. Photo above. I think, but can not prove, that the drunk was, perhaps, another life form.

Until next time, Mork and Mindy, have a great ride on the spaceship earth.

Disclaimer: Aliens are going to take over the world and turn us all into mindless robots. Aliens are going to take over the world and turn...

IF I CAN LOSE WEIGHT THERE, I CAN...

Greetings and salutations race fans,

Well, as stated in the last post on the old blog, I spent some time this past week in NYC. Since I was just here a little while ago, I won't go too overboard. Or at least not as much as I did on the last go around on So Cal with the cool Mini Cooper Driving Steve B and Pasadena.

I will tell you this, though: if you are going to go to Carnegie Deli at 854 Seventh Avenue (corner of 55th) (http://www.carnegiedeli.com/index.html) take two things, no, three things, with you: A big empty tummy, a wad of cash, and a better camera. Something happened and I got a blurry shot. All you see are some of the cheap (3 for ten bucks) ties and the girl with the boyfriend in the pink t-shirt. The deli awning is in the background -blurry.

I ate at two delis on this trip. One was the Carnegie where I had a pastrami on rye, potato salad and Dr. Brown's Cel Rey Soda. The last item was the recommendation of one of the two reps in the NYC area and, as always, he was right on the money. It was a great combo. (http://store.drsoda.com/drbrcelreyso.html ) The price, with tip, was a little north of 25 quid. It's hard to complain about that considering that I, yes I, could not finish the sandwich. I had two older English ladies next to me giggling at my attempts to open my pastrami hole wide enough to cram the sandwich into the abyss. (They seat you school cafeteria style.) I had a nice Spanish couple sitting next to me on the other side. I, of course, was the monkey in the middle. I left the old tip on the table and went up front to pay the cashier. At the till was an angry individual from yet another country saying over and over, "You don't take credit? No credit? The credit card, you no take?" His wife and kids looked frightened -so much so that the kids hung on to their mother like she was some form of life raft in this sea of strangers and strange smells. Finally the old man left them there while he went to search for an ATM. The cashier looked like he was about to fall asleep -evidently this happens a lot at the old Carnegie. I got up to the till, slid my cash across the counter with a little bit of oomph as if to say with contempt to the cashier, "Flippin' tourists!" I then collected my change, turned around and gave the wife and chitlens the old Everything is going to be Alright one-tourist-to-another-smile. The food, my friends, was worth the greenbacks. Unbelievably good. The other deli, which I will not name, sucked. Expensive sandwiches, piled high like the Carnegie, but bad, bad service and bad food in comparison. Go to the Carnegie if you are into this kind of fare.

Believe it or not, I actually lost weight on this trip -even with the potato salad and the pastrami. This was due to two things: One, I walked and walked and walked during the evenings. When I was tired, I used my Metro card and jumped on a bus or subway. But for the most part I walked because walking is where the action was at. The people and the humidity and the colors are all more palpable on the street. I went looking for Tiggy and his cool little paintings and prints in front of the Metro Museum of Art one evening, but no dice -no Tiggy. This adventure involved walking up from Times Square and then along Central Park South. Between you and me, the handsome cabs aren't so handsome when they are six feet away and smell like wild yedi mixed with more than a powerful hint of horse crap. I cut through the park at one point and came upon some kind of fund raising event for the Central Park Zoo. Very festive and cool. I recommend this walk if you are stuffed up from a cold or if you forget your Breathe Right strips. Anywho, I digress. These walks helped to shed a few pounds. The walking and heat during the day clinched the deal, though.

I am going to start the New York Diet (NYD for short) and charge people 500 clams a piece for a one month self-guided weight loss tour through the streets of NYC. I am not going to give too many specifics here for obvious reasons, but suffice to say that it involves business attire, the NYC summer, and back to back appointments all over Manhattan. This is a great cardio program that combines subway steps, turnstiles, oppressive heat, bags filled with heavy samples, small and creaky elevators without fans, and a perpetual behind schedule pressure. Food will be sparse and liquids will be doled out at two hour intervals. (Not too specific, am I?) For all of you, I will cut the enrollment fees in half. Just email me at closestexit@gmail.com and I will send you the particulars. Like the Carnegie Deli, though -cash only.

One other quick note; if you are going to see Wicked, you could do a lot worse than the Hampton Inn at 851 8th Avenue for accommodations. You will literally be within walking distance of the Gershwin Theater.

Well, kids, until next time, enjoy a Cel Rey soda and keep your powder dry.

-Gulliver (Which, by the way, has nothing to do with a bird's inner workings)

Disclaimer: Weight loss results may vary. Closest Exit and it's owner neither claim nor warranty similar results. The diet only works in the summer times with temperature ranges of 75 degrees F and above. The $250 to $500 sign up fee is not refundable and can not be claimed on your taxes. Prices vary upon the blogger knowing you or not, and then liking you or not. Write closestexit@gmail.com for NYD payment instructions. Please allow sixty to ninety days for delivery. Please drink Dr Brown's Cel Rey soda in reasonable amounts -no one wants to hear you belch on the corners of 7th and 56th, at a stop light, in a crowed of people, like some people may or may not have done on a recent visit to NYC.

mosquito COAST

Greetings and Salutations, Race Fans.

It is I, yes I, yet again. Like normal, it is the end of a busy day in NYC and I am back in the hotel room listening to the crazy honking of at least 13,000 cabbies outside my hotel window here in the Big Apple. New York: Home of 10,000,000 People and at least as many smells. I "HEART" NY. However, cardiac arrest aside, I thought that I would give you part two of the MN-CA saga. We can call it mosquito COAST redeux if you prefer.

LA is just as large as NYC in terms of population. I heard some blowhard at LAX state to a traveling companion that Southern California is home to ten percent of the new auto sales in America (on average). I can believe it. If they want to increase the cash in the state coffers, they should charge hourly parking rates on the 405 or I-5. The traffic is almost on par with the crap I have been experiencing here in NYC today. I have had procto exams that seem to go faster than some of this traffic.

At any rate, one of the better reps that our company has a relationship with, took me to see __________ in the famous Bradbury (spelling?) Building. If you are a BladeRunner fan (and let's face it, have you ever met an architect that isn't?) this is the building where Daryl Hannah's Character waits for the toy maker dude. His apartment is in this building. When we walked in, they were giving a tour of the building. The attrium like interior shots are The Bradbury. The Bradbury is also in close proximity to a certain store that may or may not have sold a certain knife to someone who then used that knife to possibly murder the ex-wife and boyfriend of a once famous person. Or so goes the rumor that I heard. I don't know if the rumor is true, but tomorrow at breakfast I am going to have toast, coffee, eggs and OJ. Of course, I will go to my favorite breakfast spot (for those that have read the earlier post) at the Westway Diner.

_____________'s people were very cool. The two firms are working on a high profile job that really rocks. It's very cool to sit down with guys like this and talk about their projects. This is about as close as a guy like me can get to fan/hero type of stuff. I love associating -even vicariously- with people who are taking chances, thinking outside of the box, and being rewarded for it. This is doubled in architecture. So, along these lines...

I stalked Frank O. Gehry. Not really, but it felt that way. I used down time one evening to cruise by Frank's place in Santa Monica. This is something I do every time I am in the area. I don't know why. I am either psychotic (a very real possibility) and this is like those people who have to turn on and off the light exactly 12 times before they are "ok" -I need to go by Frank's house every time I am in Santa Monica. Or, or, OR... just kidding. Or, it could be that Frank reminds me that there is one good outcome of a potential three outcomes that I count if you hang your cheese way out in the wind. This time I stopped the car. Got out, crossed the street, snapped a snap and then quickly jumped back into the rented Toyota and cruised towards Venice beach. It reminded me of May Day when I was seven years old in Dickinson, ND and I left a washed out pint milk carton full of dandelions on Heather G's doorstep. I pushed the button, waited until I saw her face on the other side of the door, and then ran as slow as I possibly could while hopefully looking like I was running full bore. (She caught me and then, oh giddy joy, kissed me fully on the mouth. When I finally opened my eyes, she was a full twenty feet away from me.) But I digress.

A very similar silver Mercedes to the one he drives in the movie Sketches of Frank Gehry, was parked out front of the old chain link abode. I drove by and then went by the old FOG shop. (He has since moved the store.) It's cool to think about him with an office full of people and the big developer client and him coming to a conclusion one night that he should give up the commercial pursuit in the commercial sense and follow his heart. Which, in case you hadn't guessed, he did. The rest, as they say, is history. I wrapped up the F. Owen G. worship tour with a stop by one of my favorite projects of his: The lifeguard's house on Venice beach. Take the back roads and try to get on the one that takes you right down to the garage door (or back side) of this house.

Listen, let's take a short little break and talk about something that is important to our relationship. This is my blog and I love architecture. If you think this is silly, you may want to Google "Potato Love" or "New Trends in Knee High Socks". I won't say that I am sorry for this kind of blatant salivating over architects and their work. I know that in the end, like all of us, everything we make will turn to dust, but I also realize that architecture can and does inspire, motivate and even nauseate people. That's pretty cool... considering that we are talking about buildings. And, if you have ever lost yourself in the task of creating, or in reading a book, or in listening to music, then you know how cool that is. So, I want to encourage you to give into that little demon on your shoulder. You know the one; the one with the bow tie and the Le Corbusier thick round black glasses as he holds a pitchfork between his thumb and the first two fingers only. Give in to him and indulge your love for architecture. It won't hurt, I promise.

In the words of Ron Ramsay at North Dakota State University, "The editorial light is off." (But not really -this is a blog. Duh!) Anyway, I am getting a little long winded... better wrap this up soon.

I stayed in Pasadena while in SoCal. My first time. Let me say this to you: IF you are thinking about moving to SoCal AND you have a little more than a little cash, you could do a whole lot worse than Pasadena. I dig this town! Very nice with nice shops and available Mass Transit. This is saying a lot. This is LA. The words "Mass Transit" are almost akin to swearing in church. People in SoCal like to drive their own cars. However, you can take the metro from Union Station in LA right into Pasadena. I think that the stop is Del Mar, or something like that. The LA subway/light rail is some of the cleanest mass transit I have been on in the country. I don't know if this is due to newness or due to the fact that everyone is parked out on I-5.

Anywho, Pasadena is home to more than one G and G home... including the Gamble house. (http://www.gamblehouse.org/architects/index.html) Chuck and bro did some nice stuff. Although (and in spite of the fact that) Chuck Greene looked kind of like Groucho Marx. When in Pasadena, check it out. And, oh yeah, the Rose Bowl. And the nice neighborhoods. There is some serious cash in Pasadena. Some of these neighborhoods are so far beyond tract shacks and the dead-worm road plan that it makes you feel like retching. I wish the clients were all clients like Pasadena clients. (I wish they all were California clients, David Lee Roth and Eddie Van Halen. Sorry 1980's remake-slash-cover reference.) A thanks to Steve B for the tour of Pasadena and Greene and Greene.

The next day I jumped aboard Amtrack for San Diego where I was slated to meet another rep in the same rep firm. We had a gig with another firm down San Diego way. There was not a lot of time to see the sights in San Diego, but the ride down on the train was fantastic. Highly recommended. Go early in the A.M. and avoid the crowds. The trip back to LA was less fantastic because the train was loaded with people including children that were under the impression that everyone in the train car wanted to hear their stories... a lot like some bloggers you might know, huh? . .. GULP.

Ok. Thanks for reading this. Until next time -I appreciate it.

-G

Disclaimer: Mass Transit should never be mistaken for Mass... although both may contain Catholics. ALSO, The dead worm plan comment is not an endorsement of New Urbanism. Nor is it a condemnation. ISMs in general are not condoned or condemned. If I were to condemn dead-worm street plans it would be a condemnation followed closely by a condemnation of those that think New Urbanism holds all the answers. Of course, this would be followed by a self condemnation for being such a know-it-all.