my boys, click and clack.

manifesto time.

it's saturday morning, and you know what that means. Car Talk, baby. time to make a large pot of coffee, turn the lights down low, and ... write on my blog. a guilty pleasure? perhaps, although i don't know why i would feel 'guilty' about listening to the two funniest {and surprisingly humble} bostonians on the planet make fun of each other and astound my ears with their automobile aptitude.

i'm pretty sure i was first introduced to their quirky jokes and pithy humor years ago by my father. we were driving on some remote highway, south of kc, i think on the way to Richards-Gebaur air force base for one of the 'guilty' pleasures of my youth, the airshow. {people who know me well know that i was consumed with aviation and jets growing up, and feverishly drawing them thousands of times over ... and watching top gun in equally innumerable quantities.} i like they how they try so hard to spell their listeners' names right, and when they insert yiddish terms like 'schlepp' and 'kibitz' into their infectious diologue. right now a girl from orlando is telling a story about her smoking steering column. after that they helped a female minister from cleveland choose a new car that would be a more dignified means of transportation during a funeral procession. needless to say, i feel a strong sense of humility and insignificance when i listen to their shenanigans and endless sage advice ... and all i do is write about how i used to draw jets.



maybe this is a good segway into another topic, and it's something i realized during my recent flight back home. fortunately, our plane few north and then swerved back around south, and then the inevitable direction east towards kc, allowing everyone on board to get an aerial view of the entire city and eventually both mt. hood and mt. st. helens. it got me thinking about how i've had this silly obsession with form all my life. i guess that explains why i was drawn to the distinctively sexy and powerful forms of jets from such a young age. it obviously helped that i had a the luxury of admiring a gorgeous composition of the earth below me as we flew over the cascades of the northwest, the rockies of the colorado, and surprisingly attractive sparseness of wyoming.

then, predictably, i came to the conclusion that i'm obsessed with bullshit ... with composition; with arbitrary forms. in architecture for instance, all i can do is admire something by the form it takes; by the dynamism of it's shape and materials, or by the impossibility of overcoming earthy forces {see gravity.} i don't know shit about construction and i've merely scratched the surface of the application of creative material usage; attributes i always found in the people around me while at ksu and now at the office. i concluded i am a shameful 'lookist.' i size up buildings/people/ideas by how they look and not what they mean. how noble is that?

how many times have i ran my mouth about how distinguished and reputable it is to possess the ability and genuine passion to build, and how certain glorified architects represent everything that is transparent and shallow about the world because 'they don't do that'? is it considered a contemptible act to condemn such a thing when i'm more than guilty of the same thing? some might say i'm being to hard on myself, simply because i'm brooding over flaws common to all humans, but i still feel like a degenerate phony nonetheless.

enough of this ranting. i think the endorphins from my coffee are wearing off.