NaNoWriMo is over...

and I don't know what to do with myself.





Suggestions gratefully accepted.

NaNoWriMo - tUmarO is unuthur dA - Introduction

[this is my entry for national novel writing month. it will probably be broken into several pieces. rants will resume in december.]

It was a concert that changed the fate of a world: opening night 2005 at Powell Symphony Hall in St. Louis. Of course, I had no idea about that as I parked Sergei the pickup on Grandell Square and walked up to the hall, puffing a cigarette on an unseasonably crisp September evening. It promised to be an exciting concert, since it was David Robertson's debut in his official duties as Music Director of the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra, but I was skeptical because the program was one of obscure classics and modern pieces. Hans Vonk didn't challenge us with the modern; he was a fine classicist who maintained the Symphony's reputation and presided over financial crises.

This new, young guy, barely older than myself, was a maverick by comparison. His debut program was a manifesto. I thought, I can at least support them with a subscription, but I don't have to like the music. Robertson was a favorite of the musicians; he had led them before. He came with a fine international reputation as a Musician to Watch. All the swells in St. Louis were knocking themselves over to welcome him, and I must admit, I was a little excited to see where he'd take our orchestra. His opening night program impressed me for its stark departure from the programming of his predecessor, but I just couldn't tolerate the 12-tone crap that had been the standard fare of modern symphonic music. I showed up for the pre-concert lecture expecting to hear justifications and apologies for the state of modern music.

Robertson was an engaging speaker, and nothing like you'd expect from a dedicated musician. He spoke Brokaw American. One was accustomed to deciphering accents at these talks, and struggling to understand sentences littered with obtuse musical jargon. This wasn't the case with our new conductor. He defined the musical jargon he used, he illustrated the pieces he spoke about in plain language with a humorous flair, he hummed. He played a boom box. I thought that the ghosts of Powell Hall must be looking down their noses; that the swells in the loge must be feeling disenfranchised. It was nice. I was still skeptical about the music.

Hidden Treasures of St. Louis

The cobblestone pavement of 16th St. south of Clark St. has probably been there since 1904.

So why do we use asphalt again?

City Garden or Gateway One Garden?

City Garden and Gateway One: illegitimate children of Corporate Interests and Incompetent Urban Design.

A horrifying thought occurred to me while walking past the construction site of City Garden the other day: they designed it to compliment one of the biggest urban design mistakes in St. Louis.





City Garden's tank barricades sweep gracefully into the stairs of Gateway One's half-a-mall and hides itself from Chestnut Street.

The color of the stone resembles the color of the stone panels of Gateway One, and the curving walls on the north half of the block take up a similar footprint to the high-rise office park. The half-a-mall plan that cost us the Buder and Title Guarantee Buildings has come back to bite us on the ass, and somebody conned Shaw's Garden [otherwise known as Missouri Botanical Garden] into sponsoring it. It wasn't bad enough to hem 'Twain' into a bumpy park, the corporate sugar daddies had to also use it to enhance their most heinous act upon the city's central green space.








'Hello, AT&T employees, welcome to City Garden.' The view from the main entrance of the AT&T tower.

City Garden, then, is no more than a ploy by the owners of the city-killer glass boxes on the mall to give their properties 'curb appeal' and drain taxpayers' resources. It is specifically designed, like the 'mall' at Gateway One, to discourage public use. Its massive walls and berms obscure street views and sever the space from the little bit of retail space that could serve it. Foot traffic even during rush hour is minimal, with only the weary poor who have to park south of downtown braving the abysmal streetscape of the corporate wilderness.

City Garden genuflecting to its daddy, with the AT&T complex standing smugly and lifelessly beyond. Notice the lack of pedestrian activity in an area densely packed with office workers.

This photo was taken at lunch time on a Friday. No surprise here--there's absolutely nothing to do but smoke a cigarette.












AT&T data center retail space. How do you get in?


There's actually a snack shop in there. The Metrolink station and sheer perseverance are the only explanations for its continued existence.

In my walk from 4th to 12th on Market Street each morning, there is no retail opportunity to buy a paper or a cup of coffee. I walk it for the exercise since there is absolutely no other reason for anyone to be there except to get to and from work. Sales tax dollars by the thousands walk out of downtown and land in suburban strip malls, all because of arrogant corporate looters who took financial incentives to build their monolithic slabs of cubicles and conference rooms, and gave nothing in return for the favor.



















Darth Vader dares you to walk here.

City Garden is a waste of resources and worse, a waste of an urban design opportunity to create dynamic space in the midst of a dead district.







AT&T's skywalks protect its employees from the dangers of dead sidewalks that its buildings killed.





I.M. Pei should have known better. The General American Building is a dead zone, and an uncomfortable hovering mass to walk under.


Meanwhile, the 'Darth Vader' building is set above the sidewalk as if the mere pedestrian is unworthy of the glory of modern banking and unwelcome in an urban center.

Harry Weese's 1010 Market Building is a little better. Its hovering mass almost suggests a canopy [and is welcome respite on a rainy day], but its blank wall implies that human presence, evidenced by the bus stop, was an afterthought.
It does offer retail space, tho set well back from the street. Only a Subway shop has managed to survive in its two lease spaces, even though channel 5 news draws potential customers to its 'Window on St. Louis' in 'Television Plah-zuh'.

Tarot Card of the Day for Octoboer 8, AT5

The Emperor

Again. I'm beginning to think there's a message here... Pents and an Emperor--hmmmmm.

He's the master of physical reality; I'm a procrastinator. But, last nite when I pulled this card, I had just finished an evening of doing exactly what I wanted: sitting on my ass playing with pretty pictures. So, this is my first Emperor of Pentacles diary entry. We'll see if a pattern emerges.

If I'm obstinant enough, eventually, the cards will fly out of my hands and fall on the floor spelling out the message 'clean up this frakking mess!'. If so, I'll take a pic and share, or laminate those bastards where they lie and sell them on ebay.

Pagan Art in City Hall

City Hall maintenance crews recently finished the process of converting the lighting in the public areas to fluorescent; the last bulbs to change over were the floods on the rotunda frescoes. I thought the new lights were too harsh from my fourth-floor vantage point, and they are. But, from below, they actually work well. Here is a study of the Canoe Indian:















4th Floor















3rd Floor















2nd Floor

Note that even the perspective is better from below, so from the optimal viewing angle at the marble balusters on the Mayor's level, the glare from the lights is far less overwhelming.

I never quite understood how this painting fit into the scheme of luscious Art Nouveau allegories in the rotunda, where the gods and goddesses of land and labor embellish the spandrels.

The advantage of Paganism is that it is the religion of the world rather than a far-away paradise; the very act of portraying cultural ideals is the creation of gods and goddesses. Here are some of the gods and goddesses of St. Louis, Missouri:



Here's the Goddess of Cotton magically spinning thread from bolls and Pevelia, the Goddess of Dairy feeding a calf from her lap, flanking Canoe Indian.

It's kinda sexual if your mind goes that way [mine does, especially with a nekkid indian in the middle].




Here, the Father of the Waters pours forth the Mississippi from a jar [this handsome specimen is directly opposite Canoe Indian; coincidence?].



My favorite is the Forest Goddess, a tour de force of Art Nouveau style, but the light was dis- advantageous, so second place goes to Wheat Goddess with poppies at her feet.

Peace Goddess is the only other Native American allowed in the Rotunda; I didn't realize what she was until I zoomed in on the photo. She may become my new favorite just for the ribbons of smoke Nouveau.

Not pictured here are Peabodia, the Goddess of Coal, Shawa, the Goddess of Fruits, and the Goddess of Corn, but I'll spare your scrolling finger. Peabodia is appropriately stout.

The hearing rooms must be later than the rotunda; their paintings are distinctly more neoclassical. The aldermanic chamber sports portraits of the great men of Missouri as well as elaborate allegorical scenes of the virtues of Western Civilization. This perplexing collection includes allegories of Art, Pasturing, Learning, Smithcraft, and a scene depicting a no-doubt-soon-to-be-broken treaty between pale face and the original inhabitants of the land.

The chandelier, with the Goddesses of Fine Arts and Shepherdesses in their glories, while Jefferson peers down from the ceiling and Mssrs Labeaume and Pratte watch the horror of civic politics.

[Is it just me, or is mauve really and unfortunate color for civic interiors?]











The alermanic clock no doubt ticks to the anvil beats of Granitus, the God of the St. Louisian forge. I think he knew Henry Shaw...

If you've lasted this long, you might want to give your scrolling finger a cigarette break in which to ponder the meaning of the upside-down Queen of Pentacles...

The Kennedy Hearing room is my favorite; Wisdom, Justice, and Valor. Plus torchieres to die for and the gayest rear wall in the history of architecture.



















Wisdom in his spartan, but gilded, cell.

For Goddess and Country: Justice prevails formidably at the center of the hall.

Valor. Is this dude Antinous or what?




















Nice scrolls.










The back wall; is it a shrine to the gods above, or is it there just to be fabulous?

The church lady might approve of these bulbous orbs.













Can you say, 'Oh, Daddy!'?

Tarot Card of the Day for October 7, AT5

Queen of Pentacles, Rev.

Why do the pents hate me? Why?
Yesterday, they say I'm being cautious, today, they say I'm being stingy.

Ach du liebe!

Pentacles represent Earth, blah blah blah.
Queens represent competence; in a feminine suit it is from a sense of nurturing.

The Queen of Pentacles can be thought of one who cares too much for others. Reversed, it would be that I don't think enough of others; which is true, but I'm an aspie, I don't know what they're thinking most of the time, so I lie back and see where things go. Let's just call this the aspie card, then, and go have a cigarette.

The Board of Adjustment Wounds Carondelet

While reviewing plans for the former Coca-Cola Syrup plant on Michigan Ave, the city's ever so introspective Board of Adjustment voted to approve the project with the condition that nine planned townhouses across the street be deleted in favor of a parking lot.

A frakking parking lot!!!

I couldn't believe my ears when I heard it. In its zeal to enforce its suburban-influenced parking standards, this board has inflicted a permanent wound on what could have become a pleasant, walkable neighborhood. Poised to take advantage of the next economic upswing, Carondelet was a hotbed of rehab and new development, much of which is now on hold, but some of which is proceeding. The Board of Adjustment had an opportunity to do the sensible thing and allow the construction of a cohesive urban streetscape. Instead, it decided to enforce a lethal gap in a neighborhood that was already walking a delicate line between pass or fail. The project already had accommodation for parking, but more importantly, it had a developer committed to creating a neighborhood in Carondelet instead of another vapid wasteland of cracker boxes floating in an asphalt sea and houses hidden neatly away from the services and traffic they need to be safe and productive.

The building has been listed on the National Register of Historic Places. The project will consist of 78 residential units and ground-floor commercial space, including a bowling alley and microbrewery. 121 parking spaces appear on the preliminary plans. With one per dwelling unit, that leaves 43 spaces for the commercial tenants, plus street parking. Perhaps they should also pave the park across Michigan, the long-term effect on the neighborhood wouldn't be any worse.

The rear yard of the plant, with room for parking in addition to indoor parking indicated on the plans [photo credit]

So, as the mighty automobile continues its choke hold on a diverse historic community, slick robber-developers will have the ammunition they need to justify more strip malls and wider roads, perpetuating the cycle we have seen in the inner suburbs of strip mall - traffic - road widening - more traffic - dead strip malls - big box retail. Loughborough Commons seems to be the city's picture of paradise.

Tarot Card of the Day for October 6, AT5

Knight of Pentacles

Pentacles represent Earth; abundance, stability, faith.
Knights represent inexperience; in a feminine suit it is from reluctance.

So, this card can mean financial stagnation. This makes sense, since I am growing more and more reluctant to spend into my savings, even tho I need to do repairs to the house. I suspect the card is saying that the situation is going to continue for the time being. I hope it's also saying, from the stability aspect, that the situation won't get worse. The card also rings true in faith, since I've been reading 'Atlas Shrugged' for about a month now, leaving my spiritual studies to languish; and I've been neglecting Cernunnos for a few weeks.

'Atlas Shrugged' is probably the reason I'm getting financially cautious. It tells of an economic collapse in a speculative America of the 1950's that is eerily similar to current news. It's creeping me out, while Ayn Rand's characters' victorian worldview is giving me the shivers.