Friday, November 20, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Dispatches from the desk of a ne'er-do-well student-housing manager and struggling artist
It’s moving in time for new students and roughly my one year and six month anniversary of managing a house residing on a dingy block in the sketchy neighborhood that surrounds a well-known private college in Los Angeles. This oppor-doom-ity came as a necessity for survival and remains so. With drastically reduced rent I can scrape by each month paying comparatively piddily increments on my nearly 100,000.00 dollar art school student loan debt, keep the cupboard stocked with black beans and rice, and splurge on discount wine.
To describe the property as fit and modern is to flip the calendar back to the turn of the 20th century. What was then cutting edge, well designed and detailed in craftsmanship, has been pulled down a few notches by age and neglect. Then there were those incidents of more neglect. And then, well, mutilation. Prompted by a changing and expanding city, the rich and white and rich moved out. Firstly and most notably a famously uber-democratic governor and twice presidential candidate who was born here and therefore made this humble home the target of the Cultural Heritage Board who have thusly declared it a “historic-cultural monument”.
Most recently the economic principal of supply and demand pointed its finger at this neglected house, demanding its conversion into 12 separate units of tetras shaped floor plans with mini stoves and chronic roach problems to support the growing student population.
The street and adjoining blocks bare the evidence of a time where detailed, solid craftsmanship and great visions of suburban living were in full swing. Alas time and pressure have left their mark. The hood has had its ups and downs since 1900, and the last half-century has been one of its downs.
So here I am. Exempting myself, lucky13 tenants in all. All students, or former students, of the aforementioned well-known private college, except for me. I just work there and skulk around the food court at noon. There is that struggling artist part of it too. I’ll elaborate on that one soon. For now know that I am a drawer. No, not a drawer, as in, “I just banged by goddamned knee into that drawer you left open!” But a draw-er, as in, “Draw your characture miss for a brass farthing? You see that I can because I’m a Drawer.”
Here, some proof:
-Shan
To describe the property as fit and modern is to flip the calendar back to the turn of the 20th century. What was then cutting edge, well designed and detailed in craftsmanship, has been pulled down a few notches by age and neglect. Then there were those incidents of more neglect. And then, well, mutilation. Prompted by a changing and expanding city, the rich and white and rich moved out. Firstly and most notably a famously uber-democratic governor and twice presidential candidate who was born here and therefore made this humble home the target of the Cultural Heritage Board who have thusly declared it a “historic-cultural monument”.
Most recently the economic principal of supply and demand pointed its finger at this neglected house, demanding its conversion into 12 separate units of tetras shaped floor plans with mini stoves and chronic roach problems to support the growing student population.
The street and adjoining blocks bare the evidence of a time where detailed, solid craftsmanship and great visions of suburban living were in full swing. Alas time and pressure have left their mark. The hood has had its ups and downs since 1900, and the last half-century has been one of its downs.
So here I am. Exempting myself, lucky13 tenants in all. All students, or former students, of the aforementioned well-known private college, except for me. I just work there and skulk around the food court at noon. There is that struggling artist part of it too. I’ll elaborate on that one soon. For now know that I am a drawer. No, not a drawer, as in, “I just banged by goddamned knee into that drawer you left open!” But a draw-er, as in, “Draw your characture miss for a brass farthing? You see that I can because I’m a Drawer.”
Here, some proof:
-Shan
Friday, July 17, 2009
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Trip 5: LA to Vegas and back again
Red Rock Canyon.
"A cool place to get lost when you're on you way to a wedding and you're stuck on a 15-mile long one-way road, during which you go completely nut balls, but as you re-enter the main freeway you happen to spot a woman in a white dress, who is the bride, even though you never saw her before you know that this is a bride because you're out in the middle of no-where-ville and what are the chances of another wedding party, so you go up to her limo to ask where the reception will be, and she says it's at 'Flemings'. Beer and wine open bar." --Shannon Durbin
"Diner-Saur Park" in the back of "Peggy Sue's Diner" in the fine city of Yermo, CA.
Well, Ladies?
A local custom of leaving your sneaker mark on all the available
white surfaces of the illustrious Sahara Hotel and Casino.
View from Sahara Hotel and Casino... Or is it downtown Marrakesh?
Trip 4: AZ near Superstition Mountain, SE of Pheonix
Arizona Mid May:
Sometimes we fight in the desert, but we have been friends for so long that we make up quick.
(Pictured: 1) Horney Toad!! 2) Shannon and Naomi battling for the "Queen of the Desert" title as Emily looks on and snaps photos. 3) Emily, Shannon and Naomi when we were all made up and sharing graces again.)
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Assorted Pictures
John with Spoon
John with Tractor
Women seen from the inside.
Current and ancient dangers. Arrangements.
"Helmut" glowing in the light of my drawing board lamp. Helmut was given to me so I would not forget my dreams.
How ZITS happen
Parking Lot Quote
Vitals Jan 17 - March 19
Overdue and a little unwieldy, but here are The Vitals for the last few months:
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