[astigmatic much?] pith.org content, daily-like
most recently
archive

Tuesday May 21, 2002, 23:37

My life operates in very neat little bundles these days, facilitated by the fact that I do not have any particular responsibilities or schedule that I need to follow. Thus, I can be certain that all of my daily activities are, in fact, decided upon and directed by me and not for or by anybody else. What this also means is that I need to make sure that I, as my own activities director, am always kept busy or I end up sitting around the house feeling particularly upset that I have sat around the house for an entire day without having accomplished anything at all, let alone anything of note. To that end, today I went to look at concrete.

I spent a good half an hour this morning planning out the best possible route for me to take in my day's activities which would include, in no particular order, an exhibit on concrete, collection of my photos from one of the local photo development facilities, lunch at a vegetarian fast food joint that would, undoubtedly, not give me enough ketchup, the purchasing of a photo album or two at a particularly trendy and only slightly overpriced Japanese housewares and clothing store and a meeting with a theatre company that might need my help. It was entirely a question of balancing the most efficient path between all of these activities (which would conveniently bring me in a large loop beginning and ending at home) with the fact that I did not want to eat lunch at noon, which was when the photos would be available (the photos being collected at a lab just down the street from the lunch venue and the Japanese retailer). The plan had almost come to completion when I realized that it was Tuesday, not Wednesday, and that my meeting was not until tomorrow.

The walking aspect to this plan had to come into consideration because my knee, which I must have damaged during my attempt at exercise and to which I must have done additional damage during my lovely hike in the country1 has been acting quite peculiarly lately, feeling something like someone has given my entire left leg a "dead arm" (or, in this case, "dead leg") which is only exacerbated by constant movement (much like one will experience when one is walking). As I had wasted plenty of time with my planning of my day's excursion, I decided to head out anyway, hoping that the tide of the day would carry me in the most appropriate of ways throughout my journey.

As luck would have it, I found myself walking in the direction of the concrete exhibit at the Royal Institute of British Architects (or RIBA, as it is affectionately known in the architecture world). Not wanting to stand in the way of fate, I allowed myself to continue walking in that direction and, finding myself at the entrance, allowed myself to walk inside and up the stairs to the exhibit. My leg was beginning to show signs of wear, but a powerful yet versatile building material awaited, and I would not be deterred. The first part of the show was quite boring, with slabs of concrete bolted to the wall and a mid-80s era video extolling the virtues of said building material in our every day life. One thing of note, for me at least, was the recognition of buildings that I had studied in my undergraduate days in the architecture class that I spent most of the semester sleeping through. I did remember Frank Lloyd Wright's Unity Church (built of concrete) and was rather pleased with the knowledge that my college years live on in some way in the far reaches of my brain.

The second part of the exhibit was a bit more interesting, featuring more practical (or at least more tangible) uses of concrete including the loop chair and table, various bits of jewelry, fountains and the like. More to the point, the second part of the show featured things that I could actually play with and touch, and given that all of the descriptions of the pieces were all included in a book accompanying the exhibit and not on plaques attached to them, reading a page and a half about the building featured in a photograph was less captivating than being able to sit and read about the very chair in which I was sitting. The show was curated quite well, overall, but failed in its ability to truly engage me as an audience member. Good to know for my non-future in museum work.

Having had my fill of concrete and realizing that it was not, in fact, Wednesday (and thus leaving me with one less item on my list) I set out again in the direction of my photographs and lunch. In my last lunch experience at this particular fast food restaurant, I was hard pressed to get more than one packet of ketchup, let alone enough of the good stuff to actually accompany my entire meal. This time, ready for a fight, I approached the counter to get my food.

"Hi," I said, forcefully, "could I get a few more packets of ketchup?"

She looked at me and chuckled. "Are you American," she asked.

"Why yes I am," I replied, hoping that "Of course not, I'm Canadian" was not the correct answer in this situation.

"Ah," she said, knowingly.

"We sure like our ketchup, don't we?" I asked, comfortable in this newfound camaraderie.

"You certainly do."

I walked away with three packets of ketchup, knowing that this would be enough, but not wanting to push my luck any further. As I completed the ketchup I approached the counter once again, and requested a glass of water and more ketchup. She handed me two more packets as if to say "well this should hold you, you savage beast!" and I completed my meal with the knowledge that it takes five neat little packets of ketchup to satisfy a small order of fries.

Reference: ketchup photo journal



1. While the town of Farnham is just a little farther away from London than my home town is from New York City, there is nothing in my home town that resembles the remains of an abbey that was closed in the sixteenth century that can be found in Farnham. Truth be told, there is not much in the United States that can be found that is as old as the ruins of the abbey that we sat in last Saturday, soaking in the sun of an unusually warm afternoon, staring up at the clouds. Part of me feels that during my time here, I should be filling each of my days with the exploration of things that I can not experience back at home. There is another part of me, however, that feels that my life should be filled with the enjoyment of simply living a life that I have known in a new environment, shaping it to fit how it will. Photo reference.

[ permanent link ]

[ email love | your love | consumer love ]

------------------

search the past

remember the past

1999
    aug 04 05 06 08 09 11 12 15 17 22 26 30
    sep 01 03 07 12 20 28
    oct 04 14 18 22
    nov 02 07 12 19 25 26 27
    dec 12 15 18 28 31

2000
    jan 02 06 11 12 18 29
    feb 03 10 14 17 21 23 28 29
    mar 05 06 20 22 25 26
    apr 02 05 06 08 09 10 12 13 17 20 21 24 25 28 29
    may 03 05 08 11 12 15 17 17b 18 18b 21 23 25 29 30 31
    jun 01 01b 03 06 07 08 10 13 14 16 18 21 23 25 30
    jul 03 06 09 10 13 16 26
    aug 02 03 04 08 10 17 21 25 29
    sep 06 07 12 13 18 24
    oct 06 11 12 19 30 31
    nov 08 11 22 26 30
    dec 01 10 14 21 30

2001
    jan 01 09 14 16 30
    feb 11 15 20 22
    mar 06 08 09 21 25 30
    apr 01 04 05 09 13 18 23 24 25 28
    may 04 09 11 14 16 17 21 25 31
    jun 02 08 20 21 28 29
    jul 07 13 17 28
    aug 14 24 26
    sep 09 12 23 24
    oct 10 26 28 31
    nov 11 17 18 28 30
    dec 02 08 15 18 26

2002
    jan 03 07 08 18 20 23
    feb 04 05 17 19 22
    mar 06 10 13 15 17
    apr 13 16 19 26
    may 03 13 16 21
    jun 08 15 21
    jul 03 05 10 18 24
    aug 03 18
    sep 11 20
    oct 03 05
    nov 10
    dec 30

2003
    jan 19
    feb 04 14 27
    mar 10 23 31
    apr 11 15
    may 26
    jun 16 29
    aug 17
    sep 15
    oct 08
    nov 30
    dec 11 24 28

2004
    jan 06 23 30
    feb 01 21
    mar 04 09
    apr 15
    may 02 10
    jul 03
    aug 02 16 30
    oct 04 17
    nov 28
    dec 28

2005
    jan 03 24
    mar 24
    may 28
    aug 01 10
    sep 03
    oct 12 28
    dec 25

2006
    jan 01 07 16
    feb 02 13 28
    mar 12 13
    apr 17

other things to look at

back home