In Pursuit of Space, Light and.....

Evergreen! Daytime Dance Party

TheArchitect — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 17:02:48 GMT

Hit up our daytime party! What: Evergreen When: July 26, 2008 Time: 11:00 a.m. - 8:00 p.m. Where: Harvey West Park, Santa Cruz We have a great lineup, good people, you can bar-b-que, and we have an alcohol permit (BYOB) The Bass Droppers Kat 11:00-11:45 Ouija 11:45-12:45 Lucho 12:45-1:45 Big Mike 1:45-2:45 The Architect 2:45-3:45 Brion 3:45-4:45 wona 4:45-5:45 Lil John 5:45-6:45 Rick Preston 6:45-close BOOOMMMMMMMMMMM!! Directions from San Francisco http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&tab=wl Directions from Oakland http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&tab=wl Here's a map of the park. http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&t=h&msa=0&msid=100409365450183409360.00044f45aa4bc6e3edced&ll=36.983495,-122.037281&spn=0.005699,0.006663&z=17

Deep Sigh and feeling a litte good.

TheArchitect — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 19:00:48 GMT

With some relief and much juggling between my projects Lafitte New Orleans and Richmond Senior Housing, the client of Richmond is quite please with our efforts after there site visit yesterday. My boss came and gave me a pat on the back this afternoon. I've guaranteed a new project for the firm with the same developer. Some relief finally it would seem....the stresses of this project are starting to go away. With some luck and my fingers crossed. Everything will move forward with folks moving into this Senior Apartment Building this October.

A Dedicated and long overdue Breakbeat Mix

TheArchitect — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 21:49:18 GMT

A New Breakbeat mix for your listening pleasure. I recorded this Sunday June 15th, Father's Day. I'm dedicating this to my Dad. I love you so much Pop. I hope these frequencies get you somewhere in the ether. I need to give thanks to a few folk for their love and support. Frank, my new Dj Hero. :), Carnen my Bass-nymph, My Brother Eric for the mad props, Holly for believing in me. and Samira for teaching me to let the music play. There are some hiccups in streaming the audio at the beginning of the mix. I will hopefully have them remedied when I re-upload. I've also re-uploaded Casa Bonita. Its a better recording. This version should come in louder. Enjoy. http://thearchitect.podomatic.com/ The track listing. Depeche Mode –A Pain that I’m used to- Bitstream Threshold Mix Mind Muggaz –Deadzone Mad Dogs- Sudden Journey-Hyper&Rhymes Remix Circuit Breaker-Kick that Bass Backdraft-Freeze Dried Deekline and Wizard-Hands Up Ft. Big Booty Kim and Benzo-Stanton Warrior Remix Brothers Bud vs.THC -Yap Yap Simo & B Smiley-Dirty Bizness Ft. Col. MC Dylan Rhymes-Muzika-Rogue Element Remix Bassbin Twins-Gun Down Carbon Community- Dr. Spectacle-Lawgiverz Remix Aquasky and Breakfastaz-Good Sound-Intro-Mental Backdraft-Manic-Soto Remix

Great Bouncing Icebergs!!

TheArchitect — Tue, 08 Jan 2008 18:55:55 GMT

Its snowing in the city...we're looking outside our office window and we see little bits of snow flying by. Crazy.

On the pulse of Morning by Maya Angelou.

TheArchitect — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 05:59:07 GMT

I hope you like this poem... I had to take the time to share it. A Rock, a River, a Tree, Hosts to species long since departed, Marked the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here On our planet floor. Any broad alarm of their hastening doom Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages. But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, Forcefully, Come, you may stand upon my back And face your distant destiny, But seek no haven in my shadow. I will give you no hiding place down here. You created, only a little lower than the angels have crouched too long in The bruising darkness, Have lain too long Face down in ignorance, Your mouths spilling words Armed for slaughter. The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me, But do not hide your face. Across the wall of the world, A River sings a beautiful song, Come rest here by my side. Each of you a bordered country, Delicate and strangely made, proud, Yet thrusting perpetually under siege. Your armed struggles for profit Have left collars of waste upon My shore, currents of debris upon my breast. Yet, today I call you to my riverside, If you will study war no more. Come, Clad in Peace, and I will sing the songs The Creator gave to me when I and the Tree and the stone were one. Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your Brow and when you yet knew you still Knew nothing. The River sings and sings on. There is a true yearning to respond to The singing River and the wise Rock. So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew, The African, and the Native American, the Sioux, The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, The Greek, The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh, The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher, The Privileged, the Homeless, the Teacher. They hear. They all hear The speaking of the Tree. Today, the first and last of every Tree Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here, beside the River. Each of you, descendant of some Passed-on travel, has been paid for. You who gave me my first name, you Pawnee, Apache, and Seneca, you Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then, Forced on my bloody feet, left me to the employment of Other seekers, desperate for gain, Starving for gold. You the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Italian, the Scot, You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, sought, Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare, Praying for a dream. Here, root yourself besides me. I am the Tree planted by the River, Which will not be moved. I the Rock, I the River, I the Tree I am your faces, you have been paid. Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need For this bright morning dawning for you. History, despite its wrenching pain, Cannot be unlived, and if faced With courage, need not be lived again. Lift up your eyes upon The day breaking for you. Give birth again To the dream. Women, children, men, Take it into the palms of your hands. Mold it into the shape of your most Private need Sculpt it into The image of your most public self. Lift up your hearts. Each new hour holds new chances. For new beginnings. Do not be wedded forever To fear, yoked eternally To brutishness. The horizon leans forward, Offering you space to place new steps of change. Here, on the pulse of this fine day, You may have the courage To look up and out upon me, the Rock, the River, Tree, you country. No less the Midas than the mendicant. No less to you now than the mastodon then. Here on the pulse of this new day You may have the grace to look up, and out And into to your sister’s eyes, into Your brother’s face, your country, And say simply, Very simply, With hope, Good Morning.

Maya Angelou

TheArchitect — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 05:31:27 GMT

You know...I'm sorry to say I wasn't really familiar with her work until after college. I was actually told recently she sang Calypso before she became the icon that lives politics through her poetry. I was invited to banquet fundraiser for GLIDE Memorial Church this past Friday. Carnen was my partner for the evenings festivities. Maya was the guest speaker honoring one of the founders Janis Marikatani. I knew very little of GLIDE Church outside of what my friend Taj spoke of and what I knew of there more recent and localized social work in San Francisco...Little did I know until Friday evening I was to understand GLIDE was quite revolutionary during the 60's. A brain child of the Reverend Cecil Williams. Most of the speakers were women and the theme of the evening was about women, women of color, women who persevered. I was searching for the fragments of poems I did absorb by Maya Angelou. I was excited that I would be seeing her and hearing her voice. I was nearly moved to tears... I felt very fortunate to have an opportunity to be graced by her moving energy. Her voice was music..it was wise, and it was passionate. Now I knew for certain I had 12” pressing with Maya Angelou sampled. To my dismay…I don’t have it. It is gone…along with some other lost treasures, Cest la Vie. This past Sunday Carnen and I went to Mo’ Bookstore in Berkeley after a brief walk and some coffee. After seeing and hearing her speak on Friday…. I found it absolutely necessary for me to own a book of her poems. It was later…after thumbing through the pages at home I found the poem that I once heard on vinyl. I pointed at the page with excitement. A Rock, A River, A Tree...

A new journey...

TheArchitect — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 03:42:17 GMT

Todo se acaba en esta vida el orgullo el amor y la hermosura ‘All ends in this life…Pride, Love and Beauty’ - Eloisa Posadas November, 2008 A whirlwind… We held each other as the Trio performed ballads from Chihuahua at my grandmother’s funeral. I witness her 5 remaining sons and daughters sitting in a row facing her white casket with an arrangement of pink roses. It was surreal. It was beautiful. I felt the wealth of my families history consume me…it is rich and I know so little. A trip to Mexico seems in order. We ate…we shared pictures. We shared memories, we laughed, and we drank tequila. The cackle of the Posadas Clan resonated in the church gymnasium and the house of my Aunt Nena. Of the memories, of my Quwicka, the one truth that was clearly expressed by the family was the love she gave us. She lived a humble life filled with laughter and big kisses. Her sarcastic humor even prevailed in her final days. …

More Memories

TheArchitect — Wed, 05 Dec 2007 22:29:37 GMT

We took bus and we walked. I was a Chicano lost in a in a foreign land, in a chatter of Spanish and Spanglish only old women would speak. It was summer and it was muggy. The smell of ripe fruit, seafood, fried plantains, Chinese food, and a wash of many other urban scents colored the world of my youth and my abuelita. She led me by the hand through the maze that is Grand Central Market. My urban excursions in LA started with her, in what I would call the heart of Los Angeles amidst little Mexico, little Latin America below Bunker Hill. I would get lost with my grandmother. My eyes would wander staring at the old art deco sculpture and Theater Marques. Gargoyles, amazing abstractions, and seductive friezes were the introduction to my personal story book, my imagination. Later I would discover the Bradbury Building…a hint of Blade Runner not too far away.

My Quwicka

TheArchitect — Mon, 03 Dec 2007 21:07:20 GMT

My Grandmother Eloisa Posadas, my Quwicka, my Abuelita, is finally at rest. What has been an up and down roller coaster ride for my family this past month is now finally coming to end. She was in the hospital and out of the hospital, in jovial spirits wanting coffee, and clutching my moms hand while in pain. She past away this weekend at 2:00 in the morning. I will be flying down to Los Angeles this Wednesday. A long life….96 years around the Sun..?? Memories of Food fill my head. Food I’m reminded of, made in her honor yesterday by both my mom and my uncle, Fish Soup and Albondiga Soup. Hand me down recipes in the family…I had no idea. Her Bread Pudding and tapioca, Mexican rice, tacos, her Chile Verde …Chile con Queso, her hamburgers!! Her Love… She took care of me after school for years when I was in Elementary. I was 5 years old and in kindergarten, I was her Tesoro, her treasure. I loved playing with her sewing machine, an old mechanical Singer. Sigh….those sleepy days of being curled up in her bed watching Mexican television…Mexican wrestling and sensationalized roller derby. She supported the Los Angeles T-birds with such zeal. The evenings of Chapulin Colorado... That silly Red Cricket …I would sit on the floor of her bedroom spending jovial moments with her, playing with my toys while she shouted at the LA Bombers … More memories come pouring in…Nostalgia. Quwicka, I love you.

Can you Find the Samurai?

TheArchitect — Mon, 12 Nov 2007 22:58:40 GMT

In the refrigerator....amongst other condiments. :)

Oopsies!

TheArchitect — Fri, 14 Sep 2007 00:08:58 GMT

Right now, some guy with a hard hat is hiding in a corner down the street from my office. Imagine having to tell your boss you accidentally ruptured a water main that crossed the street that flooded the area, stopped traffic...and eventually caused the street to collapse and endanger a PG&E mainline.....all after your lunch break. Oh I forgot to mention a truck fell in and had to be towed. Thats how we say in French....Le screw the pooch...or Le Fuck Up. or some would affectionately call.. An Oopsie.

Rolling Black Outs -SF

TheArchitect — Tue, 24 Jul 2007 21:14:59 GMT

We got them here in the SOMA Financial District....you got 'em???? Just wondering how much of SF is being short circuited.

My Soul Preached to Me

TheArchitect — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 03:08:40 GMT

This was given to me approximately 9 months ago....I still ponder the words...it should be shared. Thoughts and Meditations BY Kahlil Gibran Transcribed in Digital by a Sweet Pea My soul preached to me and taught me to love that which the people abhor and befriend him whom they revile. My soul showed me that Love prides itself not only in the one who loves, but also in the beloved. Ere my soul preached to me, Love was in my heart as a tiny thread fastened between two pegs. But now Love has become a halo whose beginning is its end, and whose end is its beginning. It surrounds every being and extends slowly to embrace all that shall be. My soul advised me and taught me to perceive the hidden beauty of the skin, figure, and hue. She instructed me to meditate upon that which the people call ugly until its charm and delight appear. Ere my soul counselled me, I saw beauty like a trembling torch between two columns of smoke. Now since the smoke has vanished, I see naught save the flame. My soul preached to me and taught me to listen to the voices which the tongue and the larynx and the lips do not utter. Ere my soul preached to me, I heard naught but clamor and wailing. But now I eagerly attend Silence and hear its choirs singing hymns of the ages and the songs of the firmament announcing the secrets of the Unseen. My soul preached to me and instructed me to drink the wine that cannot be pressed and cannot be poured from cups that hands can lift or lips can touch. Ere my soul preached to me, my thirst was like a dim spark hidden under the ashes that can be extinguished by a swallow of water. But now my longing has become my cup, my affections my wine, and my lonliness my intoxication; yet, in this unquenchable thirst there is eternal joy. My soul preached to me and taught me to touch that which has not become incarnate; my soul revealed to me that whatever we touch is part of our desire. But now my fingers have turned into mist penetrating that which is seen in the universe and mingling with the Unseen. My soul instructed me to inhale the scent that no myrtle or incense emits. Ere my soul preached to me, I craved the scent of perfume in the gardens or in flasks or in censers. But now I can savor the incense that is not burnt for offering or sacrifice. And I fill my heart with a fragrance that has never been wafted by the frolicsome breeze of space. My soul preached to me and taught me to say, "I am ready" when the Unknown and Danger call on me. Ere my soul preached to me, I answered no voice save the voice of the crier whom I knew, and walked not save uopn the easy and smooth path. Now the Unknown has become a steed that I can mount in order to reach the Unknown; and the plain has turned into a ladder on whose steps I climb to the summit. My soul spoke to me and said, "Do not measure Time by saying, 'There was yesterday, and there shall be tomorrow.' " And ere my soul spoke to me, I imagined the Past as an epoch that never returned, and the Future as one that could never be reached. Now I realize that the present moment contains all time and within it is all that can be hoped for, done, and realized. My soul preached to me exhorting me not to limit space by saying, "Here, there, and yonder. Ere my soul preached to me, I felt that wherever I walked was far from any other space. Now I realize that wherever I am contains all places; and the distance that I walk embraces all distances. My soul instructed me and advised me to stay awake while others sleep. And to surrender to slumber when others astir. Ere my soul preached to me, I saw not their dreams in my sleep, neither did they observe my vision. Now I never sail the vessel of my dreams unless they watch me, and they never soar into the sky of their vision unless I rejoice in their freedom. My soul preached to me and said, :Do not be delighted because of praise, and do not be distressed because of blame." Ere my soul counselled me, I doubted the worth of my work. Now I realize the trees blossom in Spring and bear fruit in Summer without seeking praise; and they drop their leaves in Autumn and become naked in Winter without fearing blame. My soul preached to me and showed me that I am neither more than the pygmy, nor less than the giant. Ere my soul preached to me, I looked upon humanity as two men: one weak, whom I pitied, and the other strong, whom I followed or resisted in defiance. But now I have learned that I was as both are and made from the same elements. My origin is their origin, my conscience is their conscience, my contention is their contention, and my pilgrimage is their pilgrimage. If they sin, I am also a sinner. If they do well, I take pride in their well-doing. If they rise, I rise with them. If they stay inert, I share their slothfulness. My soul spoke to me and said, "The lantern which you carry is not yours, and the song that you sing was not composed within your heart, for even if you are a lute fastened with strings, you are not the lute player." My soul preached to me, my brother, and taught me much. And your soul has preached and taught as much to you. For you and I are one, and there is no variance between us save that I urgently declare that which is in my inner self, while you keep as a secret that which is within you. But in your secrecy there is a sort of virtue.

Something to feel good about.

TheArchitect — Fri, 22 Jun 2007 18:06:32 GMT

In 2002 I was involved in developing a shell package for college prep in Eastside Palo Alto. The firm was downsized. I lost a job..and I thought the project wasn't going to get built. Yesterday I ran into an old work buddy of mine. It feels good to know that I had my paws on this one. Here are some links. I hope to drive by the construction site. :) A big smile. It was pulled off. http://www.epa.net/launch/comvcs/comrpts/item?item_id=582269 http://archrecord.construction.com/projects/bts/archives/K-12/05_eastsidePerform/overview.asp

Adult swim

TheArchitect — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 17:45:21 GMT

Caught this on Sunday Night...LMAOROTF Great Stuff http://www.adultswim.com/video/index.html?section=Comedy&collectionID=8a25c3920ef15683010ef20fc9d2015d

Boom Crane From Above

TheArchitect — Wed, 13 Jun 2007 16:51:43 GMT

These shots weren't taken by me. Nor was I in the boom cab. I will be in it hopefully soon. These shots were taken by the boom operator. The pictures are before and after shot of a monolithic concrete pour of the mat slab. Over 300 trucks of concrete came in during the wee hours out in the tenderloin. I'm just a wee bit excited.

Boom Crane

TheArchitect — Tue, 12 Jun 2007 20:28:09 GMT

I get to go up in one.

Yo' Mama So Fat

TheArchitect — Wed, 30 May 2007 20:20:33 GMT

I decided to dig this up for ya...people have inquired...cuz well...there funny. http://people.tribe.net/thearchitect/blog/9ead24fd-9b3b-45e9-984a-91346764215a

Only Once

TheArchitect — Wed, 30 May 2007 18:35:50 GMT

Solamente una vez Amé en la vida Solamente una vez Y nada más Una vez nada más En mi huerto Brilló la esperanza La esperanza que alumbra el camino De mi soledad Una vez nada más Se entrega el alma Con la dulce y total Renunciación Y cuando ese milagro realiza El prodigio de amarse Hay campanas de fiesta Que cantan en el corazón Lyrics by Agustín Lara

The Wires of the Night

TheArchitect — Mon, 30 Apr 2007 06:46:26 GMT

Exhausted, under strain, I keep my chin up...I've experience so much and I feel like crumbling. So many highs, so many lows, I do my best to be strong, but my back and heart feel like shattering. I write so that my back may be strong and my heart may be whole. To release...to release...to let go... I sat by her while she read, invited by friends to sit next to her, my love. The waves crashed and the red of the sun was across the night sky as fires burned on the beach...in a moment of mourning, to remember a Robin, a bird that danced and fell in love with my laughter..and calmed herself when she heard my voice over the telephone. I met her once but I believe my soul knew her for a lifetime. I sat and listened to the poem recited in memory, to ease pain, to fully understand the scope of death, its persona, what characteristics it would take, how familiar those feelings were...I understood the loss to my very core... ...She could not read the next poem and asked for another to recite 'The Wires of the Night' I stepped to the plate. Little did I know it would be about my thoughts and my Father and his death...it was my winter and much has happened. THE WIRES OF THE NIGHT I thought about his death for many hours, tangled there in the wires of the night, that it came to have the body and dimensions, more than a voice shaking over the telephone or the black obituary boldface of name and dates. His death now had an entrance and an exit, doors and stairs, windows and shutters which are the motionless wings of windows. His head had a head and clothes, the white shirt and baggy trousers of death. His death had pages, a dark leather cover, an index, and the print too minuscule for anyone to read. His death had hinges and bolts that were oiled and locked, had a loud motor, four tires, an antenna that listened to the wind, and a mirror in which you see the past. His death had sockets and keys, it had walls and beams. It had a handle which you could not hold and a floor you could not lie down on the middle of the night. In the freakish pink and gray of dawn I took his death to bed with me and his death was my bed and in every corner of the room it hid from the light, and then it was the light of day and the next day and all the days that follow, and it moved into future like the sharp tip of a pen moving across the empty page. by Billy Collins

87 hours

TheArchitect — Sun, 25 Feb 2007 16:58:41 GMT

87 hours.....yup an 87 hour work-week. We accomplished two months of work in two weeks! Our work schedule was pretty insane the weeks prior as well. The whole team was fried...It got to the point where we were holding hands up and saying STOP!!...We were emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted...We patted each other on the back and understood we were at are limits. But we kept pushing through. I inspected over a 100 architectural details that all required an absurd assembly for flashing(it protects buildings from water damage)....It gets pretty complicated in San Francisco...especially at 130 feet in the air when the wind load can literally get moisture past the cement plaster assembly and the waterproof membrane specified. Yes a mild geek out here, I’ve been in architecture land too long....anyways...I'm done, I’m now available for appointments, a social life, some deck time, (Sam I want to spin with ya!) and definitely some comp time. Today I adjust to being somewhat human again…I’m off to pick up my road bike (very excited!). I will be playing with my records all day today!

Deadline Day

TheArchitect — Sat, 24 Feb 2007 16:29:59 GMT

I worked 13 1/2 hours yesterday....I'm overwhelmed...I'm not looking for sympathy. Just expressing how nuts this is.... I'm slated to work Construction Administration on this project. Once we break ground next month... I will be overseeing windows, exterior finishes and rain-screen wall systems and aspects of waterproofing. I'm exhausted......it’s the little things make me persevere. Go go go.

Earthquake!!!.....???

TheArchitect — Fri, 23 Feb 2007 23:50:05 GMT

We seem to have felt one here at First and Howard. How 'bout you?

What happens when we fall off the horse?

TheArchitect — Sun, 18 Feb 2007 23:46:29 GMT

We get back on the horse. Blah Blah Blah...Yes I had a few cigarettes this past weekend...Cest la Vie. I'm not gonna beat myself up over it. I had some difficult moments...oh well. But as I've mentioned in my last blog, I bought running shoes, and have taken my bike to the shop for an overhaul. The solution?? The bike mechanic sympathized with my plight and will be giving my Road Bike some extra TLC. For those of you who don't know I used to be an avid cyclist. Two Tours in California the AIDS Ride, 98 and 99, as well as some extensive touring in Germany and France, both loaded tours. But, after 5 car vs. bike related accidents and a few too many spills...I just about called it quits. So as with all things running in cycles...I'm getting back on the horse, of the mechanical persuasion. But it won't be ready until the end of the month. So until then I'm gonna start my running regiment...eek did I say that?

Architecture and Breathing

TheArchitect — Thu, 15 Feb 2007 21:49:23 GMT

Architecture: The planet is built. Dubai is being raped by Saudi’s with too much American money…Yes our addiction to oil has allowed us to build man-made islands and peninsulas in Dubai, Saudi Arabia. Take a look at it in Google Earth. One can see giant palm trees on the ocean and manmade islands that are being rendered to look like a map of the world from outer space. So amidst the struggle, and lunacy of being a designer (and just being :) ) caught up in the machine of capital plunder, I’ve decided to become a member of the U.S. Green Building Council. http://www.usgbc.org/ Yes, very fancy. I got an email this morning saying it was being offered to me through my employer Michael Willis Architects. So it means I get to go to seminars and get literature at a discount...woopie!!, all in effort to be a LEEDS (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) Accredited Architect. It’s arguably, a money making a machine for ‘green’ products. But seeing how these people have a say in perhaps rewriting the International Building Code, I thought it would be in my best interest, both career wise and to know the ins and outs on how to get the construction companies to salvage, reuse and recycle on the job. Yes I’m an architecture geek. Day 7 and no cigarette: After some disgruntled ups and downs while designing a entrance canopy to the building I’m working on, I decided to go outside and meditate ….i.e. breathing. I did it for about 15 minutes. I’ve calmed down a bit. I try to do it throughout the day…sporadically in small bouts, centering myself and aware of the chatter around me. I might do it again later. I’m done smoking dammit. Sunday (assuming I’m not working ) I will be buying running shoes and taking my bicycle to Medina Bike shop to get an overhaul. I knock on wood. :)