31/365

The moon and Venus at twilight, as seen earlier this evening from Bremerton, WA.

30/365

29/365

Pedestrian trail through the Olmsted-designed Interlaken Park on Capitol Hill, where people ignore greetings of "hello" and "good morning." The Seattle Freeze is, evidently, in full effect.

28/365

27/365

Back in 2003 or 2004, I picked up this book and read the back cover in the Barnes and Noble on Colorado Boulevard in Denver. I had just moved there and had lots of spare time (read: no friends) so I'd go to the bookstore to get a cup of coffee and read The New Yorker. I didn't buy the book but every once in a while the cover pops into my head and I try to remember the title.

Then, today, my professor recommended I read something by Edward Casey. I typed his name into the online library catalog and up this popped, a good five years later, with the same lonesome cover drawing me in. If you're looking for me, I'll be in the Architecture library at UW tomorrow morning, picking this gem up.

26/365

A simple twenty-dollar bill: who knew it could make for such an interesting evening.

As I posted yesterday, we have switched to a cash system. In keeping with that decision, I ran over to Madison Market tonight to pick up a few items for dinner and Risa's lunch tomorrow, and paid with cash (a twenty and two ones). A few hours later, while considering doing laundry and lamenting over the fact that we are burning through our cash, I reached into my wallet to find that I only had one twenty remaining! I knew that last night I had three and actually had photographic proof. What happened?

I thought and though about where I may have spent it but knew I didn't. I thought that maybe it stuck to that other one at the grocery store; I knew it was a long shot but, in this economy, I had to ask. I went over to the store and they said they'd call when they closed out that register. We all kind of laughed at the prospect of their finding my bill.

Lo and behold, about twenty minutes ago the call came. Sure enough, that drawer was twenty bucks over.

Book Five

As I've begun to read much more academic writing, I'm developing the "active reading" habit of commenting on the pages, making it interactive. Often, and probably because I don't know any better, I tend to agree with the author so most of my marks are underlines, circles, or even exclamation points. I pen little notes in the margins so that when I come back, I can see what I was thinking at a particular time. However, whilst reading Le Corbusier's The City of To-Morrow and its Planning, which I just finished, I found myself writing things like "jackass", "fool" and "no!!"

I'd often heard his ideas for urban planning described as "skyscrapers in the park," which, in itself, didn't sound all that horrific to me. In fact, when thinking about density and open space in urban areas, it actually sounds okay (even though I became a dissenter after realizing that this would be death of the vibrant urban streetscape that makes cities exciting). But when this idea is coupled with arterial roads that are 400 feet wide and slice through existing cities, moving car traffic rapidly throughout, I lose all interest and start looking for rotten tomatoes to hurl.

Sure, his infrastructure plan calls for subways and commuter rail -- which sound a little better -- but this focus on cars as the future turns my stomach (and reminds me of a ridiculous fucking decision on the future of auto traffic in Seattle). In Corbu's defense, he did write his book 1925, when cars seemed like a pretty good idea, but the damage his ideas have done seems irreparable (Aurora Boulevard and I-5 slicing through Seattle both appear to be inspired by his writing).

The wonderful Jane Jacobs blames him (and Ebenzer Howard, the father of the 'burbs) for the destruction wrought on American cities and, so far, I think she's right.

I do agree with one of Corbu's ideas though: that people should live in buildings that are at a human scale and leave the skyscrapers for office space (if we're going to build them at all). He envisions housing blocks of six stories that are surrounded by open space, with trees aplenty, and towering skyscrapers spaced out in the distance beyond...I wouldn't say this is the answer, but the human scale part and the access to some open space sounds good.

I'll be writing a more academic version of this criticism tomorrow. I'll post it on my other site when it is finished.

See below for Corbu's vision of a modern Paris.