Monday, March 30, 2009

March, Just Barely

At first I feared, upon being told I was to write something ONCE A MONTH for this public display of erudition, that I –go ahead and start laughing now those who know me—would have nothing to say. Then I found this in my junk drawer. What's this got to do with architecture and design? Well, there's a house in the first and a modular staging system in the last. March.


Same Four Dreams

All sorts of birds have gotten in to my house –which is actually my parents' house—causing a ruckus and waking me up at some odd hour of the morning. While investigating how they got in I also find rabbits and I think some other creatures. Also, something has shit all over my shelves.
I abandon my bicycle for a moment to address something and return to find it stolen along with the contents of my blue and yellow bag. They've left me the bag. Nobody wants that bag. A policeman is nearby and seems to be interested in the theft.
Disguised as hotel banquet waiters, my girlfriend (?) and I foil some sort of large criminal action. There's lots of shooting and adventure and then we manage to slip back into the crowd with no one realizing that we're the heroes.
The cavalry is advancing on a village of Indians. They are, in fact very close. The Indians start to advance on the cavalry. They are women, men (maybe) and children in formalwear playing classical music. This confuses the cavalry who don't seem to know how to attack this civilized (and savage soothing?) orchestra. From off somewhere a piece of a bandstand is drawn in by horses and standing atop it is the conductor, a young white man with curly hair and highlights who was a side character in an earlier –lost—part of this story. The horses pull the bandstand into a larger stage where it fits like a puzzle piece. This larger construction includes assorted percussion (and maybe a piano) that would have been too large to advance on the cavalry. At least one item is a modern drum kit. I thought upon waking that maybe this was Mickey Hart's orchestra. The whole thing somehow looks more like a well-advised outtake from Little Big Man than something left in Blazing Saddles.
I'll try to be less personal and more focused in April.

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