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Category Archives: Construction

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New York’s LOT-EK Arch Frim’s goal is to blur the “line between art, architecture, entertainment and information.” One of there main objectives is to use “existing objects, systems and technologies” and use them as “raw materials” in the design and construction process. One of my favorite designs of their’s is the CHK (Container Home Kit).  Check them out at: www.lot-ek.com

(Found Via Arch Daily)

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It’s reported that on Monday evening the Federal Aviation Authority granted the New Mexico Spaceport Authority there Launch Site License, a necessary part of there efforts to build and run the United States first commercial spaceport. Spaceport America will be the homesite of Virgin Intergalactic’s space program. Construction is slated to begin in first quarter of 2009.

Oh damn!

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C1 by Curiosity and Milligram Studios.

Possibly the greatest bathroom I have ever seen in my life.

(Found via ArchDaily)

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Modern Dwelling has the EB1 Home By Replinger Hossner Architects of Seattle on the market. This West Seattle home is amazingly styled and set in a great hilltop location with views of Seattle and the Puget Sound. It’s a 3 Bedroom 2.5 Bath for only $895,000! That is a steal!

For more info and pics: http://vicaso.net/iflyer/12025

Here are a few of the tracks I have been listening to in the past few days. I suggest checking them all out, or at least most of them.

Kanye West – Love Lockdown
Racetrack – One Step Forward
Police Teeth – Brian Cross Punch Out
Jamiroquai- Runaway
N.E.R.D. – Anti-Matter
MGMT – Electric Feel
Simon and Garfunkel – Mrs. Robinson
Justice – DNVO/Stress
Candysound – Suddenly
Kristin Allen-Zito – Into The Ground
The Lonely Forest – We Sing In Time
The Trucks – 3 A.M.
The Mission Orange – Madrone
Daft Punk – Harder Better Faster Stronger vs. Around The World
Lupe Fiasco – Paris to Tokyo
Chromeo – Fancy Footwork
Jay Z – 99 Problems

Above Left: Derek of Typical Ace
Above Right: Yours Truely

I guess I kind of get what people are talking about. Anyways I get mistaken for him a lot by drunkards from the “Shoe.” Typical Ace was a band from Bellingham, WA that broke up in July 2008. Check them out:

www.myspace.com/typicalace

Some of them are now in a band called Browne’s Condition, check them out too!

Thoughts? Anyone else see it? Discuss!

I remember thinking to myself, “2008 is going to be a good year.”

How wrong I was that clean crisp March morning. Sitting back and once again watching the sunrise from my second story window, I had seen this side of the day from the wrong end far too often in the last few weeks. I don’t know what It was, something about the way the suddenly peaked sun rays shot off the glass face of Westerns hillside campus across town, or maybe the distant views of the San Juan Islands but there was an electricity in the air, something I hadn’t felt in months if not years.

Coming to the quick and reluctant realization that I was in fact not going to be getting any form of sleep for many hours I decided to start my happy hour early and cracked open a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon one of the roommates had left unattended in the fridge. As I walked about the lower half of the house I struggled with the idea that I had been up since almost this time the day prior and that I had the energy to go another ten rounds. Something was off. By this time the I had moved back into my room, pulling up at my desk to answer some emails and phone calls as is my normal morning routine. No Emails, No Messages, No Voicemail, It looked like it was going to be a slow day.

I finished my morning Lager.

It was a Wednesday I thought to myself, I hate Wednesday’s. After a few minutes of surfing news websites for the latest updates on the impending Presidential Elections and the War On Terror, there was a pause. I felt it, as if the whole world had for one second stopped, silent.

It’s amazing to me that this happened only a year ago today. This is not what I was expecting.

Something happened. Something was not right. Looking south towards downtown from my window as I had at sunrise I looked for some type of response from the rest of the world. Was it just me? I remember muttering under my breath “hmm… what was that? Why am I talking to myself?” I quickly stopped. Maybe the lack of sleep lately was starting to wear on me. I had always feared that I would lose control, and maybe that was my tipping point. As I blankly stared reflecting on my morning, or evening according to my internal clock, I tried to brush off whatever had just happened to me.

Checking my Email once again, coming up empty, I leaned back in my chair, shut my eyes and sank into thought. The energy I had felt a few hours prior had vanished and I passed out sitting up in my chair, head back and to the right, feet on the desk and arms folded. A most uncomfortable position. Usually I wouldn’t sleep long like this, waking up and wandering towards my bed making it just close enough to face plant into the sheets and remove myself for consciousness. But for some reason my lack of comfort did not wake me during this nap. Slowly I fell into a fairly deep R.E.M. sleep. Next came the Lucidity.

“We have to get you out of here quick sir.” She said.
“What’s going on? Where is everyone?” I asked, confused.
“There’s no time, please we must move quickly.” She declared.
“I demand to know what’s happening damn it!” I yelled.
“He’s bleeding, we need to get him to a hospital.” She screamed.
“I am not…” I soft spokenly said, as I came to the realization that in fact my shirt was covered in crimson from a wound I could not see nor feel.

I woke up.
Something happened. Something was not right.

It felt like days. I awoke confused about where I was and what time, what day, what year it was. I slowly took my legs from my desk, wiped away the feeling of sand and mortar from my eyes, sat back into my full upright position. As I tried to glance at the clock on my computer screen I realized that my desktop wasn’t on, I didn’t remember turning it off. The laptop to my left was still on, it read 11:22pm. As I calculated in my head I came to realize that for nearly twelve hours I had slept in that very strange position.
After coming to the realization that I had been asleep I started to recall my dream. I don’t think much of dreams. They to me are merely strange storylines thrown together by unfinished thoughts. However this one was different. I remembered it all, every detail and fact, unlike many of my dreams. It could have been the violent video games I had played as a child, the crime scene drama I had watched the week before or the recollection of all the times I’ve watched the JFK assassination. Something was different about this time, but I wasn’t sure what it was, or how it would relate. I decided to move on with my night.

No Emails, No Messages, No Voicemail, I hadn’t missed much. The house was quite. I threw on some pants and walked downstairs. Not a light on in the house. I checked for vehicles, the roommates must have been out. Even the garage, the epicenter of many of the goings on around our home, was strangely empty and dark. He must be at his fiancés I thought nothing of it.

As I walked through the kitchen I decided to make a snack, nothing big but I felt hungry or something. I threw a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster, grabbed the tea pot and put it on the stove. My dwindling food supply made me conserve, peanut butter toast and English breakfast tea had become my new best friends. I had successfully thwarted my hunger for the moment, but soon I came to realize that hunger wasn’t the only thing I was feeling.

I returned yet again to my room just past midnight. As I sat down on the edge of my bed I removed the worn denim jeans and black t-shirt that are the staples of my daily wardrobe. “Nothing left for me today,” I found myself muttering. Laying back I closed my eyes. All was quite, silent. The feeling, it happened again. As if for one second every known thing in the universe stood still, suns grew dormant, planets failed to emit there drowning sound waves, every single atom was at once suspended in time and space. It seemed to last forever. As I waited for the moment to pass I fell into unconsciousness.

“I’m fucking dieing here!” was all I could hear in the background.
“Turn that damn thing off.” She told me.
“I can’t this is a dream,” I told her.
“Sometimes…” she said frustrated at me.
“The walls are closing in,” I spoke calmly.
“Don’t worry, you won’t feel it…” her words were ominous.

What I had awoke to was not what I had fallen asleep to.
Chaos.

9:11am on the dot. First phone call of the day came in, it felt like the first time I had talked to anyone in months.

“Hey buddy, where have you been?” the voice on the other end asked.
I wasn’t alone as I had predicted.

His Last Thoughts Were Of London by Ian Imhof

Present Day.

The loud fast knocking continued.

The door swings open, the young man is standing there with a puzzled look on his face.

“What do you mean he left? Where is he?!” the he asks flustered and bewildered.
“Didn’t he tell you? He took up a new job,” she paused,” he left three days ago.” she explained in an annoyed and standoffish manor. She was not happy to see her brother there, he had not been home in quite some time. His arrival that morning was both unexpected and unwanted.

“You look like hell.” she remarked while leaning back and taking a look at him. It was early, far to early for him to have woken up that morning.
“I can’t believe this!” he yelled as he turned heading from the doorway where his sister had oh so ungraciously greeted him. As he stormed down the driveway towards his car he paused, turned slightly and once again asked his sister, “Where is he?”

“If you don’t already know, it isn’t that important,” she closed the door to the house.

He hadn’t slept in what felt like days, it probably had been days but he was unable to recall. Racing back towards the city, tired and drained from weeks on the road the young man became so enraged with the fact that he was no longer included in communications of the simplest form, pulled to the side of the road. At the edge of the water, perched overlooking a low tide he sat and staired in piercing silence, only the breeze off the water making a sound. What had happened to him.

Six Months Prior.
His last thoughts were of London. Laying in his bed, 4am Monday morning. He woke up in the same clothes that he had worn the night before, he must have passed out at some point in the night. Not remembering where he was at first, all he could think of was London. At this point he was many miles away from his memories. Amsterdam, 4th floor, room 432. A faint buzzing came from beside the bed, his phone that he must have dropped was ringing, it was home. He let it ring through, no one of importance would be calling him, no one he needed to talk to had his new number.

She walked out from the bathroom, black hoodie and short shorts, nothing more, nothing less. Five foot two inches tall, one-hundred and twenty pounds even, blond hair drawn back into a ponytail she was nothing short of stunning. How he despised her. Closing his eyes he turned away as she walked near the bed.

Five Months, Twenty Eight Days Prior.
Night had almost fallen across the city. Happy hour had arrived as he sat at the bar in the lobby of the hotel. He was there awaiting load in and sound check. A young woman graced the gathering in the lounge with her presence. Taking note right away, making sure that she knew that he knew that she knew who he was, the young man stood up from his stool and took a seat near the fireplace. Whisky in hand he sat leaning over his glass and looking straight forward into the fire, maybe she should have taken this as a sign.

“Hello.” the young woman cautiously murmured as she placed her hand gently on the back of his chair.

“Hi,” he paused, “I had a feeling you’d find me,” he muttered into his drink as he took a sip and continued to look into the fire. He would not look at her, not acknowledge her being there except in words, until she sat down to his left. Resistance was futile as he looked at her, she knew that he could not resist a redhead, especially this one.

Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth” was released in January 1967. The song was written about in problems between law enforcement, live music venues and the youth in L.A. in the mid to late 60’s. Over the years its meaning has been changed depending on who’s listening to it or covering it. I believe that this song has more meaning now than ever, and we should maybe step back and listen to Mr. Still and “Stop, Hey, Whats That Sound? Everybody Look Whats Going Down.”

Pb Elemental is a Seattle based Modern Architectural Firm. There work explores the uses of space in urban infill areas by using modern mateials and construction techniques to create dwellings and comerical buildings. The company is made up of a collection of Architects, Engineers and other talented professionals. Pb Elemental is a member of Built Green.

www.elementalarchitecture.com

(PS Once I Can Afford It, This Is My Personal Choice Of Arch Firm For My First House)