I'm a writer, publishing both as SJ Rozan and, with Carlos Dews, as Sam Cabot. (I'm Sam, he's Cabot.) Here you can find links to my almost-daily blog posts, including the Saturday haiku I've been doing for years. BUT the blog itself has moved to my website. If you go on over there you can subscribe and you'll never miss a post. (Miss a post! A scary thought!) Also, I'll be teaching a writing workshop in Italy this summer -- come join us!
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Johnny on the Spot
Actually, the porta-potties arriving at the construction site down the block are from the Mr. John company, whose guys wear tee shirts that ask, "Why Go Anywhere Else?"
I got my M. Arch in 1980, my license in 1986, and worked as an architect until three years ago. I'm a full-time writer now, but you never stop being an architect. I love construction sites.
It's a problem in a neighborhood like this, because I generally don't love the buildings they turn into. A lot of my work as an architect was in preservation, but I'm not a piece-of-the-true-cross preservationist who believes everything old has to be saved. The buildings that got torn down to make way for the construction at the end of my street -- two different jobs, one on each corner -- were old but not special. I do think, though, that new buildings ought to ideally enhance and at least not diminish the quality of the built environment. Generally, what's going up in my formerly funky, now very hot neighborhood fails that test. We're getting a lot of high-end condos built out to the last possible square inch of floor space. Too tall, too undistinguished. The muscle-flexing of big name architects doesn't count as distinguished in my book, just flashy, a stamp, like the polo pony on the shirt for people who can't tell quality, only status.
So when a new building's proposed for this neighborhood I usually side with the preservationists. And when we lose, which is about half the time, I regret less the buildings coming down than I do the ones going up.
But: I love construction sites. I love the choreography, the logistics, the small daily increments of change. I love the concrete and steel and machinery. And down the block from me are two sites, one still in the last demolition stages, the other now bringing in the porta-potties. So I'll be reporting on them from time to time, until they make that transition from construction site to building. At that point they'll cease being interesting to me, and just be more proof of the mediocrity of the age we live in. Or not. I haven't seen the plans for either site. They could be something great.
Though as the Monk theme song says: "I could be wrong, now. BUT I DON'T THINK SO!"
I got my M. Arch in 1980, my license in 1986, and worked as an architect until three years ago. I'm a full-time writer now, but you never stop being an architect. I love construction sites.
It's a problem in a neighborhood like this, because I generally don't love the buildings they turn into. A lot of my work as an architect was in preservation, but I'm not a piece-of-the-true-cross preservationist who believes everything old has to be saved. The buildings that got torn down to make way for the construction at the end of my street -- two different jobs, one on each corner -- were old but not special. I do think, though, that new buildings ought to ideally enhance and at least not diminish the quality of the built environment. Generally, what's going up in my formerly funky, now very hot neighborhood fails that test. We're getting a lot of high-end condos built out to the last possible square inch of floor space. Too tall, too undistinguished. The muscle-flexing of big name architects doesn't count as distinguished in my book, just flashy, a stamp, like the polo pony on the shirt for people who can't tell quality, only status.
So when a new building's proposed for this neighborhood I usually side with the preservationists. And when we lose, which is about half the time, I regret less the buildings coming down than I do the ones going up.
But: I love construction sites. I love the choreography, the logistics, the small daily increments of change. I love the concrete and steel and machinery. And down the block from me are two sites, one still in the last demolition stages, the other now bringing in the porta-potties. So I'll be reporting on them from time to time, until they make that transition from construction site to building. At that point they'll cease being interesting to me, and just be more proof of the mediocrity of the age we live in. Or not. I haven't seen the plans for either site. They could be something great.
Though as the Monk theme song says: "I could be wrong, now. BUT I DON'T THINK SO!"
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