7th St & Awful

My grandparents lived in about 7 homes in the north central and central Phoenix area in the 50s and 60s. They started in a very modest three bedroom home facing 16th street and this monstrosity is where he ended up, having also traded my grandmother in some years before. I had neither seen nor heard of this thing before. He died just before the house was finished.

A Grecian-inspired pink stucco eyesore, really an abomination when you see it in person. It's located in a very genteel and snooty neighborhood of austere ranch styles which stretch endlessly upon perfect acres of lawn. I am sure the current neighbors hate it as much as the originals must have.

yeah dude

Undercity

UNDERCITY from Andrew Wonder on Vimeo.

Incredible. I love this. This urban historian travels unused parts of the city to reveal elements of the past totally forgotten. My favorite was the very old and grand subway platform, no longer used for some reason, with high arched ceilings and tiled in an odd green and white style.

I love urban archaeology and exploration.

This is another good site filled with photos from excursions, but Steve Duncan's photos and stories are much more valuable because he knows the history. His blog. He's amazing! Making an historian's niche out of something that would otherwise be considered criminal trespassing or sophomoric hijinks. He explains his inability to explain to some why he is interested in seeing these forgotten things, dusty dirty glimpses into a past way of life, into something so foreign that was once so everyday.

Now I am reading about oak-lined cow tunnels winding beneath the streets of Manhattan. New York is one of the more dynamic places for this kind of study because it's impossible to imagine that it wasn't always as urban as it is, and hard to picture the halting of traffic so that cows could be driven through the streets.

I feel like this just isn't possible in Phoenix, where there isn't much beyond the visible layer and where old things get demolished regularly. It's a constantly regenerating place, and while some may find that to be refreshing or inspiring, I think it's dull and depressing, but then I hate formulaic architecture and stucco. There are a few forgotten places, allowed to remain simply because no developer wants the space, like Cemetery Lindo, located in little neighborhood in South Phoenix. It's just dirt, about 90% of the headstones that were there have been stolen. An old stone and mortar fence reaches around only two sides of the land now and a rusty gate slumps half-open. You would not think it was more than another inner-city dirt lot, but it is; it was a pauper's cemetery that functioned from 1891 to 1951 and primarily houses the bodies of tuberculosis patients, poor indigenous persons and Mexicans. That is why the City hasn't quite gotten around to a beautification project. There have been some in the past, but it was all volunteer-based to my knowledge, and when the City cut off the acreage's irrigation water, everything died. Again.

Down by a different river

I love Johnette Napolitano.

When stealing music from the internet in the past, I could never find the album version of Bloodletting, but finally here it iiiiiiiis. I had this one on tape.

I forgot about this song! It is the greatest ever. I love Hendrix's original, but I like Johnette's even better. I have uploaded it unto the internet here. Little Wing.

& everyone likes Joey.

oh hoorah

etsy user "springtreeroad"

etsy user "springtreeroad"

etsy user "spinup"

etsy user "spinup"

etsy user "funkyarns"

etsy user "eliade"

amazing handspun yarn, all on etsy. i can't even look at my own crap yarn now. oh and crochet pattern lingo is outrageous. i have no idea what the hell is going on.

me: when i start with the next row, i don't know what loop i'm supposed to start the dc in

am i always pulling the farthest one in the single chain?

anita: so, you mean row 3?

wait, I guess it refers to it as row 2

me: i guess. i did 5 sc, then 3 dc and it looks like a mess. then it says to skip, chain 3, & 3 more dc...but i don't know where to put the dc

anita: oh ok

sk next 3 ch, *(sc, ch 3, 3 dc) so this means skip 3 chains, then single crochet in the 4th chain. then chain 3. the chain 3 is to build up for the double crochet

WHAT

flickr user minililimi

a very lush post by angeliska whose words are beautiful and organic visceral stirring lovely. and i forgot it was a holiday.

lunar eclipse,

winter solstice

not everyone receives a salute from gloria swanson

or is outlived by her.

Albuquerque

These uploaded in such a crazy order and I cannot be bothered.

Thai Vegan is the best. If you don't like brown rice, and who does, get it there. Not only is it unusually delicious, but it comes heart-shaped.

oh my god that is snow.

peta on speed-dial.

this photo sucks, but Albuquerque glitters like a jewel (a dusky jewel) at rush hour.

why everyone in Holbrook has lobster-hands and a tail.

doing woman stuff.

Forgotten Bookmarks: A catalog of articles left in old books. That is the greatest past time ever. I have found a few interesting ones. The most amusing was a packing to-do list from the early 60s for a spring break trip to Florida or something. It was full of all of the stuffy stupid beauty articles women employed then. girdle, cold cream, curlers, garters, dress shields, but my favorite was a hastily scrawled, "b.c." Oh how too embarrassing to commit it to paper!

Sometimes they are sad, I find pressed flowers to be sad, or a photo or something. My grandmother's were always typed prayers or funeral cards.

I have the strangest collection of old personal articles, like diaries and family bibles. People started bringing them to me at one point. The archivist of family memories thrown out when a childless aunt dies. My favorite is a five year diary that I bought at an antique store when I was 15. I felt wrong about it but reasoned that if anyone else should have it, it was me. Her name was Anna Ireland and she lived in Michigan, the five years were in the early 1930s. At first she wrote faithfully every day in a cramped and spidery hand, talking about her sisters and trips to the market and her brother's friend Bill, I think. She was in love with him and the first few months of entries are so tortured and full of every detail of their extremely brief encounters. She painted such a clear picture of her predicament, watching him fretfully from a parlor window, wishing he would just come inside so she could pretend to be surprised yet indifferent. She talks about sitting in his lap one night and then there aren't many entries. Months or a year later, there is one entry, "Bill and I are married." After that, just one entry per year on their anniversary. The first year is happy, the second is worried - he is very sick with something - then no more. Poor Anna.