If there were ever a section of Philadelphia more repulsive to those that seek a good time with the company of reasonable and sensible people, it would not be found in and around the Rittenhouse Square. The RS area is often filled to the overflow with popped collared lackeys and their ex-cheerleader companions. All in all, it is a travesty. Shallow, vacuous, substanceless and utterly tasteless. I would dare to say that it is a holocaust of good taste and even better sense.
For many, the idea of fast cars and expensive attire mean the world, I would disagree. Give me soul, funk and a bit of charm any day.
At the request of a friend, I journeyed to the latest bar to open in the area. There was a fair bit of reticence and reluctance but now I'm getting ahead of myself.
One must understand that the bar in question is located next to the infamous Irish Pub, situated at 20th and Walnut. As far as I'm concerned, the Irish Pub is equivalent to Satan's taint. Its a hellish place where you find yourself between dicks and assholes.
Yet, the Rum-Bar is a refreshing change of pace. Located next to a symbol of faux Irishness and a soulless monument to shameless stereotyping is a clean, crisp and metropolitan take on the island lounge. The owner Adam has a fantastic liquor selection and for the typical after work well drink, very affordable prices. It is a combination of continentalist design and Bahamian relaxation.
Given its prime location, great service and uber-affordable pricing I truly believe that for the down town drinker, or the late night office worker, it is the new IT bar of Philly.
Within the next few weeks, said bar should be in full swing (it opened not more than a week ago and is already garnering quite the customer base ). If the clientele is anything like the decorum, then you are sure to find a combination of the beautiful, the exotic and the delightful.
May they have many more weekends of bacchanalian delight.
About Me
- The SJ Libertine
- Living on the outskirts of a major metropolitan area, a young man became enamored with the finer things in life. With due haste he decided to take it all in. This is the story of that adventure...
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Just finished The Night Porter
It's about Nazis in hiding and dealing with the repercussions of the past via the resurgence of a seriously deviant sexual liaison between an ex Nazi and his former death camp concubine 20 yrs after the war
it's a superb film, theres several themes I've got to work my way through though.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Thursday Night Adventures In Chinatown.
There is something to be said about the way in which Philadelphia is laid out. It's a city in which neighborhoods seamlessly blend in and out of each other, all the while maintaining a distinct character. Philly is, after all, a city of neighborhoods. Last night I found myself in Chinatown with a rather delightful agenda: to meet up with old friends.
An old drinking friend and fellow musician, Dave Rossi (ex SGR), got himself into the business of show business and was promoting a show at the Trocadero. I'm assuming the People's Republic of New Jersey unshackled his ankle chain and allowed him to leave his Stalinist outpost in Trenton where he works as a loyal apparatchik to the current regime.
The goal for the evening was a rendezvous with a bespectacled artist friend of mind and for my lady friend and I to make our way through whipping winds and cold tinged scent of lo mein to ultimately arrive at the Trocadero on Arch.
For those that have never been to the Troc, here are some pictures.
The line up went as such:
The Skatalites, The Players Band, and The Raggamuffins.
The players band opened, from what my hungover mind can recall, and they were good but nothing to hang the moon over. The Raggamuffins and Skatalites were fantastic.
The one thing that I've always respected about Dave Rossi is that he can always make sure a bill runs on time and that in and of itself is a hard thing to do.
And now the back story.
My working relationship with Dave Rossi (currently of Phillyska ) and various members of the now defunct SGR goes back four or five years now. Dave and Sean used to give me the call up to run sound for various gigs in and around South Jersey. Beyond that, Sean Hur (ex. guitarist and Hammond aficionado) have jammed together for years now as well (we have also been known to throw a helluva barbecue at my house when the summer weather permits).
The problem is that very rarely do the three of us ever have time to sit down together over a beer and catch up. When we do it is often far too fleeting, and when the chance arose for us to all meet up at length last night, I wasn't one to say no. What all was discussed and the like is between and betwixt the three of us and it would not be gentlemanly to go bandying about the contents of private conversation on the internet via blogs or message boards or the like.
About an hour into my drinking and lounging fellow libertine, and steadfast drinking companion Dave Segal of Wareeka Hill showed up and being a man of refined taste brought him a quite fetching and lovely lady.
As a casual aside, it is often best to have a delightful and comely lady on your arm be they friend or seductive femme. To not have one would be akin to not doffing ones cap in a sartorial gesture of respect to someone that wishes you a good day. It just isn't right not to do so.
Mr Segal and I decided to make haste for the floor after a cocktail or two and enjoy the first band.
As friends do when they've not seen each other in quite some time, we engaged quickly in conversation whilst enjoying the bands. Some thuggish lout decided to interject himself between me and a friend. Doing so repeatedly and in the most harassing of manners I became quite peeved. Truth be told, yours truly is not one for confrontation. It's a big oafish and uncouth. There comes a time in one's life where the need to prove yourself in such ways just comes off as silly, outlandish and in all regards, wholly childish.
Then again, people often perceive kindness for weakness, and that is also impermissible. Being one not to sully their own name nor garments, I called the Bulch over and explained the situation at hand. For those that don't know him, he's the Philly Ska scenes most endearing skin head and built bigger and thicker and tougher than the Berlin Wall.
Much like the Pentagon, I like to subcontract my security.
Upon a return to the upstairs, said two-toned thug was waiting at the bar with a blood alcohol level almost as high as his annoyingness level. At that point he proceeded to regale us with his thoughts on the whole thing in a dizzying spectacle of bravado, arrogance and downright cuntishness
"Hey guys i wasn't trying to be a prick or anything. its just when a band is playing and you stand there talking to yourselves its rude and its not cool to be like that to the bands and thats why were all here you know what i mean"
WHAT?!
"I'm standing there in a sweater tie and suit and i go "i know what you mean but you're wrong because you're a fucking cunt"
At that point I spat on the ground in front of him to show my visible disdain.
The show wrapped up in the most smashing of ways and I made haste for the center of the city.
After a brief scheduling snafu at the Khyber, I returned to my favorite bar and waited for Mr. Segal to rendezvous with me. It was not to be smooth sailing however. The usual set of artisans, drag queens and fashionistas all seemed a bit tightly wound.
As such, upon Dave's arrival, we left for the bowels of South Philly and a night of drunken debauchery at the Republican.
It was a circus as always, topless dancers, drunkards and merrymakers all looking to find a way to close out the night and go home with a buzz, a lay or a bag of whatever substance you could fit in a small ziploc bag.
The night was amazingly short on executives and their blow and the harlots and their hangers on (this isn't to imply that its an establishment rife with prostitutes, more to the point it's a place where the often the drunken ladies that go in there prefer to act the part).
And so as the night closed out and our inebriation faded we sojourned to the city center once again where I took my leave, to retire home where a delicious sandwich and a freshly washed robe awaited me.
Thus ended my evening, which henceforth shall be known as the Two Tone Chinatown and Whiskey Affair.
God Bless and God Speed
Charles
An old drinking friend and fellow musician, Dave Rossi (ex SGR), got himself into the business of show business and was promoting a show at the Trocadero. I'm assuming the People's Republic of New Jersey unshackled his ankle chain and allowed him to leave his Stalinist outpost in Trenton where he works as a loyal apparatchik to the current regime.
The goal for the evening was a rendezvous with a bespectacled artist friend of mind and for my lady friend and I to make our way through whipping winds and cold tinged scent of lo mein to ultimately arrive at the Trocadero on Arch.
For those that have never been to the Troc, here are some pictures.
The line up went as such:
The Skatalites, The Players Band, and The Raggamuffins.
The players band opened, from what my hungover mind can recall, and they were good but nothing to hang the moon over. The Raggamuffins and Skatalites were fantastic.
The one thing that I've always respected about Dave Rossi is that he can always make sure a bill runs on time and that in and of itself is a hard thing to do.
And now the back story.
My working relationship with Dave Rossi (currently of Phillyska ) and various members of the now defunct SGR goes back four or five years now. Dave and Sean used to give me the call up to run sound for various gigs in and around South Jersey. Beyond that, Sean Hur (ex. guitarist and Hammond aficionado) have jammed together for years now as well (we have also been known to throw a helluva barbecue at my house when the summer weather permits).
The problem is that very rarely do the three of us ever have time to sit down together over a beer and catch up. When we do it is often far too fleeting, and when the chance arose for us to all meet up at length last night, I wasn't one to say no. What all was discussed and the like is between and betwixt the three of us and it would not be gentlemanly to go bandying about the contents of private conversation on the internet via blogs or message boards or the like.
About an hour into my drinking and lounging fellow libertine, and steadfast drinking companion Dave Segal of Wareeka Hill showed up and being a man of refined taste brought him a quite fetching and lovely lady.
As a casual aside, it is often best to have a delightful and comely lady on your arm be they friend or seductive femme. To not have one would be akin to not doffing ones cap in a sartorial gesture of respect to someone that wishes you a good day. It just isn't right not to do so.
Mr Segal and I decided to make haste for the floor after a cocktail or two and enjoy the first band.
As friends do when they've not seen each other in quite some time, we engaged quickly in conversation whilst enjoying the bands. Some thuggish lout decided to interject himself between me and a friend. Doing so repeatedly and in the most harassing of manners I became quite peeved. Truth be told, yours truly is not one for confrontation. It's a big oafish and uncouth. There comes a time in one's life where the need to prove yourself in such ways just comes off as silly, outlandish and in all regards, wholly childish.
Then again, people often perceive kindness for weakness, and that is also impermissible. Being one not to sully their own name nor garments, I called the Bulch over and explained the situation at hand. For those that don't know him, he's the Philly Ska scenes most endearing skin head and built bigger and thicker and tougher than the Berlin Wall.
Much like the Pentagon, I like to subcontract my security.
Upon a return to the upstairs, said two-toned thug was waiting at the bar with a blood alcohol level almost as high as his annoyingness level. At that point he proceeded to regale us with his thoughts on the whole thing in a dizzying spectacle of bravado, arrogance and downright cuntishness
"Hey guys i wasn't trying to be a prick or anything. its just when a band is playing and you stand there talking to yourselves its rude and its not cool to be like that to the bands and thats why were all here you know what i mean"
WHAT?!
"I'm standing there in a sweater tie and suit and i go "i know what you mean but you're wrong because you're a fucking cunt"
At that point I spat on the ground in front of him to show my visible disdain.
The show wrapped up in the most smashing of ways and I made haste for the center of the city.
After a brief scheduling snafu at the Khyber, I returned to my favorite bar and waited for Mr. Segal to rendezvous with me. It was not to be smooth sailing however. The usual set of artisans, drag queens and fashionistas all seemed a bit tightly wound.
As such, upon Dave's arrival, we left for the bowels of South Philly and a night of drunken debauchery at the Republican.
It was a circus as always, topless dancers, drunkards and merrymakers all looking to find a way to close out the night and go home with a buzz, a lay or a bag of whatever substance you could fit in a small ziploc bag.
The night was amazingly short on executives and their blow and the harlots and their hangers on (this isn't to imply that its an establishment rife with prostitutes, more to the point it's a place where the often the drunken ladies that go in there prefer to act the part).
And so as the night closed out and our inebriation faded we sojourned to the city center once again where I took my leave, to retire home where a delicious sandwich and a freshly washed robe awaited me.
Thus ended my evening, which henceforth shall be known as the Two Tone Chinatown and Whiskey Affair.
God Bless and God Speed
Charles
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Goodtimes at the Troc Tonight
Great shindig goin down at the Troc tonight in Chinatown.
Pics to follow
Pics to follow
Monday, February 19, 2007
The Libertine Weekend Wrap Up.
Given my extended illness, I was unable to get out and about until Wednesday. Wednesday as we all know was Valentines Day. This presented a formidable dilemma. There had been a few ladies of late who had been keeping me in companionship with none of them being of the level of companion as to warrant any sort of extraordinary response for this day.
This sort of situation requires precise handling. What one does conveys a certain message. A true gentleman never engages in deception or miscues in order to gain when it comes to women. A true gentleman instead prefers to take the truth and much like a beautiful woman's shoulders massage it until your intended goal is achieved.
Had an invitation, even in my weakened state, been extended to any particular party it would imply that certain advances in relations would occur. When nothing at all is said, it implies distance and pushes those that you consort with, even further away.
Keeping this in the back of my mind, I decided to suit up and hit the streets with my closest of close friends.
Valentines Day often leaves many a sad and distraught woman by the wayside and my personal proclivities draw me toward this sort ever so much. With zest and gusto we hit the streets.
For adornment, I chose to dress in a simple suit but fit it with black fedora and pink tie (for it was valentines day after all and is featured below).
First on the agenda was the fine Darkhorse Tavern. Its a fine establishment with reasonably priced beers and the oh so quintessential dart board. The lingering tobacco scent still hangs high in the barromand it seems as if it will take a great many months with the smoking ban before the smell dissipates.
After a short spell of merriment and friend making we departed. The absence of adventure or femininity there led my mind to wander and that is not a good thing. From there we ended up at the valentines day party at the M Room.
It was empty, it was without any women and the music was lackluster. Me and Wirth remained for only 20 minutes before departing. Said 20 minutes was only to have a beer after paying our FIVE DOLLAR COVER CHARGE and meeting with another friend for but a few moments.
Fearing the worst, a night without intrigue or adventure, we opted to head southbound in the whipping ice and snow and complete the night at my favorite watering hole: Bob n Barbara's.
B&B holds a special place in my heart. I must confess that much of what I do that could fall into the less than favorable of behavioral categories is often the result of this establishment. It is often overflowing with fantastic jazz, beautiful women and very inexpensive alcohol. Beyond that, its the sort of place where one can walk in alone and leave for all night escapades with a group of new friends that were but strangers an hour before.
Truth be told, the previous account has happened to be innumerable times there.
Upon entering I stumbled upon a delightful, ginger haired lass whose company I'd begun to fancy. Without revealing much of the goings on, let me just say that she was quite distressed at a lack of companionship on this most Cupidian of holidays. Being one to tread lightly and avoid entanglement I apologized for having been out of touch and explained the treacherous malady to which I'd been afflicted.
To make good on all manner of gentlemanliness I provided her with transport home as to keep her from enduring the frigid cold.
It was a fine night.
Friday Night...
Growing tired of the usual scene I decided to take up an old but dear friend of mines offer to sojourn to the town of Berlin NJ. The bar was called Ollie Gators, a mash up of a sports bar, honky tonk, and an infidelity den. After enjoying a few rounds, I retired to the outdoors for a cigarette and a call on my mobile. While there a ravishing blond with quite the diamond on her finger started up conversation.
Not being one to pry but not being one to engage in certain behavior, I gently inquired as to the nature of the ring. She said it was an engagement ring and i astutely pointed out that it was a fine cut and guessed it's size at a karat and a half. I was correctly and was duly rewarded with a "we just broke up." After returning to my partners in crime, she joined us. Much merriment was had and a phone number was obtained.
I hope to call her this week.
There are fewer things as delightful as a beautiful blond nearing 30, especially when she comes with a sense of style and a rapier wit.
After all had left at a fairly early hour, I decided to fly solo to B&B's. Most nights when there is a jazz band playing, any of a slew of associates will be there and as such going on your own is not necessarily a recipe for a lonely night.
While there, a delightful and delicate alabaster beauty and I began to talk. I hit it off with some of her friends as well and then another person flying solo joined the group. This gentleman, named Jessie btw, was out for a beer and adventure and his husband had decided to stay home.
Suddenly, me and my alabaster acquaintance were bombarded with a plethora of free liquors and salutations.
With the closure of the bar at the stroke of two, we needed to continue the good times and merrymaking and in due haste. The liquor loving gent, myself, my lady friend and a random englishman from the sidewalk outside of the bar then hopped in Jessie's husband's SUV and shot down into the depths of South Philly and found ourselves at the Republican Afterhours establishment.
There we enjoyed an evening of gin soaked fun, topless dancers, silliness and debauchery.
Upon the arrival of 4 a.m. we all opted to retire to our respective homes.
After the most exhausting and aggravating of situations involving my brother, I found myself in Philadelphia last night with my acquaintance from B&B's on Friday night.
It was quite delightful. There are not many things quite as fine as the companionship of a witty and quite ravishing alabaster and fiery haired lady while indulging in jazz, soul food, and a cold stiff drink.
We plan to get together to watch some dvds and hang out this week. Given Netflix and the joblessness, this should be quite a highlight to the upcoming week.
I bid thee adieu
The Libertine
This sort of situation requires precise handling. What one does conveys a certain message. A true gentleman never engages in deception or miscues in order to gain when it comes to women. A true gentleman instead prefers to take the truth and much like a beautiful woman's shoulders massage it until your intended goal is achieved.
Had an invitation, even in my weakened state, been extended to any particular party it would imply that certain advances in relations would occur. When nothing at all is said, it implies distance and pushes those that you consort with, even further away.
Keeping this in the back of my mind, I decided to suit up and hit the streets with my closest of close friends.
Valentines Day often leaves many a sad and distraught woman by the wayside and my personal proclivities draw me toward this sort ever so much. With zest and gusto we hit the streets.
For adornment, I chose to dress in a simple suit but fit it with black fedora and pink tie (for it was valentines day after all and is featured below).
First on the agenda was the fine Darkhorse Tavern. Its a fine establishment with reasonably priced beers and the oh so quintessential dart board. The lingering tobacco scent still hangs high in the barromand it seems as if it will take a great many months with the smoking ban before the smell dissipates.
After a short spell of merriment and friend making we departed. The absence of adventure or femininity there led my mind to wander and that is not a good thing. From there we ended up at the valentines day party at the M Room.
It was empty, it was without any women and the music was lackluster. Me and Wirth remained for only 20 minutes before departing. Said 20 minutes was only to have a beer after paying our FIVE DOLLAR COVER CHARGE and meeting with another friend for but a few moments.
Fearing the worst, a night without intrigue or adventure, we opted to head southbound in the whipping ice and snow and complete the night at my favorite watering hole: Bob n Barbara's.
B&B holds a special place in my heart. I must confess that much of what I do that could fall into the less than favorable of behavioral categories is often the result of this establishment. It is often overflowing with fantastic jazz, beautiful women and very inexpensive alcohol. Beyond that, its the sort of place where one can walk in alone and leave for all night escapades with a group of new friends that were but strangers an hour before.
Truth be told, the previous account has happened to be innumerable times there.
Upon entering I stumbled upon a delightful, ginger haired lass whose company I'd begun to fancy. Without revealing much of the goings on, let me just say that she was quite distressed at a lack of companionship on this most Cupidian of holidays. Being one to tread lightly and avoid entanglement I apologized for having been out of touch and explained the treacherous malady to which I'd been afflicted.
To make good on all manner of gentlemanliness I provided her with transport home as to keep her from enduring the frigid cold.
It was a fine night.
Friday Night...
Growing tired of the usual scene I decided to take up an old but dear friend of mines offer to sojourn to the town of Berlin NJ. The bar was called Ollie Gators, a mash up of a sports bar, honky tonk, and an infidelity den. After enjoying a few rounds, I retired to the outdoors for a cigarette and a call on my mobile. While there a ravishing blond with quite the diamond on her finger started up conversation.
Not being one to pry but not being one to engage in certain behavior, I gently inquired as to the nature of the ring. She said it was an engagement ring and i astutely pointed out that it was a fine cut and guessed it's size at a karat and a half. I was correctly and was duly rewarded with a "we just broke up." After returning to my partners in crime, she joined us. Much merriment was had and a phone number was obtained.
I hope to call her this week.
There are fewer things as delightful as a beautiful blond nearing 30, especially when she comes with a sense of style and a rapier wit.
After all had left at a fairly early hour, I decided to fly solo to B&B's. Most nights when there is a jazz band playing, any of a slew of associates will be there and as such going on your own is not necessarily a recipe for a lonely night.
While there, a delightful and delicate alabaster beauty and I began to talk. I hit it off with some of her friends as well and then another person flying solo joined the group. This gentleman, named Jessie btw, was out for a beer and adventure and his husband had decided to stay home.
Suddenly, me and my alabaster acquaintance were bombarded with a plethora of free liquors and salutations.
With the closure of the bar at the stroke of two, we needed to continue the good times and merrymaking and in due haste. The liquor loving gent, myself, my lady friend and a random englishman from the sidewalk outside of the bar then hopped in Jessie's husband's SUV and shot down into the depths of South Philly and found ourselves at the Republican Afterhours establishment.
There we enjoyed an evening of gin soaked fun, topless dancers, silliness and debauchery.
Upon the arrival of 4 a.m. we all opted to retire to our respective homes.
After the most exhausting and aggravating of situations involving my brother, I found myself in Philadelphia last night with my acquaintance from B&B's on Friday night.
It was quite delightful. There are not many things quite as fine as the companionship of a witty and quite ravishing alabaster and fiery haired lady while indulging in jazz, soul food, and a cold stiff drink.
We plan to get together to watch some dvds and hang out this week. Given Netflix and the joblessness, this should be quite a highlight to the upcoming week.
I bid thee adieu
The Libertine
The war on terror, patience and being level headed
should anything guide us in our caution in the war on terror this is it
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Single in Philly on Vday- The Libertine's Guide
Fear not when worrying about singleness in the City on this most Hallmark of Holidays.
Here are some great places singles gravitate towards on holidays.
McGlinchey's- South 15th Center City.
It's tight, its dirty, its cheap, and theres singles aplenty. Go there for the best and the worst of the city. An added bonus is the bar tender looks like Pete Townsend.
Manhattan Room aka The M Room- Girard between Front and Frankford
All Nite Dance party from the DJ's that bring you Broadzilla on Thursday Nite at Sal's.
nspired by the amorous prose and hateful tirades found in the City Paper's weekly "I Love You / I Hate You" column, this year's Valentine's Day party at the M Room promises guests an emotional rollercoaster fueled by love songs and delicious drink specials. To add a slightly bizarre and kitschy twist, the night has a prom theme, and guests are encouraged to dress in the high school dance finery. Spinning the best songs of love and heartache from the 80's and 90's, the Broadzilla DJs will set the perfect mood
Bob and Barbara's-15 and South
Its shitty, its shady, its a guaranteed good time. Luckily, this year Vday is on a Wednesday and that means Bingo for Porn with other horny singles. Eye up their fetish and see if it's the one you dig to.
I might hit all three of these tonight. Report soon to follow. God Bless, God Speed, Get Lovin.
Here are some great places singles gravitate towards on holidays.
McGlinchey's- South 15th Center City.
It's tight, its dirty, its cheap, and theres singles aplenty. Go there for the best and the worst of the city. An added bonus is the bar tender looks like Pete Townsend.
Manhattan Room aka The M Room- Girard between Front and Frankford
All Nite Dance party from the DJ's that bring you Broadzilla on Thursday Nite at Sal's.
nspired by the amorous prose and hateful tirades found in the City Paper's weekly "I Love You / I Hate You" column, this year's Valentine's Day party at the M Room promises guests an emotional rollercoaster fueled by love songs and delicious drink specials. To add a slightly bizarre and kitschy twist, the night has a prom theme, and guests are encouraged to dress in the high school dance finery. Spinning the best songs of love and heartache from the 80's and 90's, the Broadzilla DJs will set the perfect mood
Bob and Barbara's-15 and South
Its shitty, its shady, its a guaranteed good time. Luckily, this year Vday is on a Wednesday and that means Bingo for Porn with other horny singles. Eye up their fetish and see if it's the one you dig to.
I might hit all three of these tonight. Report soon to follow. God Bless, God Speed, Get Lovin.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Natural Law Watch...
Social Models and Architecture.
The other night I was watching the mid90s remake of Richard III when I noticed something that had never been picked up on in previous viewings. As the atmosphere of the movie shifted towards something more fascist and more controlling, the designs and themes of the architecture went from wide open and liberating to something very modernist and cold in its design. This brings me to the question at hand: to what extent does the nature of a society's political orientation leave an impression on the architecture at hand?
I would argue that the more the an institution seeks to influence/control the environment or the actions of those within it, the more it will generate designs and themes that are unnatural. The reason for this being that on some level political influence relies on total control, be it violence or monetary interest, etc. As such, one of the ways that such control is expressed is by ultimately establishing that nature itself is to be control by use of such unnatural forms as it declare that which is organic, flowing, timeless to be rendered moot before the monolith of state.
Ultimately, the most fully expressed forms of state influenced architecture can be seen in the way that modernist (and subsequently "international") architectural was co-opted for states that sought either fascism or socialism as a model.
Ultimately the aesthetic was to be one in which function was always supreme to form, all was mechanical and that history was irrelevant and that above all the result was to be wholly utilitarian.
The most marked attempts into such urban planning forays are those attempted by the French, long time socialists and 3rd rate imperial power. One of the premier Modernists and primary influence on the French "suburbs" was Le Corbusier.
One should note his 1922 design for a city build wholly from the ground up for three million Frenchmen: Ville Contemporaine
Known for such a statist agenda, the French model shown above is the perfect example.
Much like socialism and fascism though, the problems arise with the architecture that arise also with the regime, they will inevitably be rebuffed. Man has a natural tendency toward favoring that which is organic, that which is a natural outgrowth of development and design. He is far from a machine nor can he be programmed to act as one. That fact that he is an individual, independent of the conceptualizations of the state planners, means that those things which would seek to put him into a collective are that which he will most lash out against.
This is what we see in places such as the French suburbs and the British Council Flats. The malaise and despair brought on by such cold surroundings that are hostile to the very basic tendencies of human nature lead to a backlash. In them we see corruption, crime, violence and no desire at all for self improvement. Such a crushing rebuke to all that makes man yearn to make his own mark in the world brings nothing but misery, pain and antisocial behavior, above all it brings only the lowest common denominator out in the actions of men.
contrast this for a moment with the classical form espoused by the Greco-Roman model and subsequently by the Neo-Classicists in the 18th through mid 19th centuries.
one should note the designs used by such places as the US Capitol building, the Roman Senate and various other structures. What one sees in them is the use of empty space. They are vast structures but often very empty inside. Essentially, they believed in letting the structure breathe. I was posit, that such a space is an area where man would be best served for reflection, relaxation and carrying on with discussion. Such regimes, at least initially, had it as their goal to encourage virtue, debate and other high minded ideals.
By ensuring that there was a natural, flowing and accommodating environment for men to feel at home in, it ensured that man could engage in business and discourse in the most unencumbered way possible. Were the structures grand and lined with white marble and timeless? Yes, but if anything that was a reaffirmation of the way in which the society sought men would generate its thoughts.
Where one society viewed people as numbers and data and parts of a larger mechanical system, its architecture reflected it and likewise when a society views itself as a sanctuary for grandness, organic social evolution, discourse and liberating individualism, it demonstrates it as well.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Friday, February 9, 2007
DVDs and Vitriol
Thanks to the wonderful Netflix I've received several new movies in the past day or two. While perusing their selection I stumbled across a movie entitled "The Assassination of Richard Nixon." With a cast featuring Naomi Watts and running at 1hr 35mins (whats that in metric does anybody know?), it was hoped that maybe this movie would avoid the pitfalls of other Sean Penn vehicles...OBNOXIOUSNESS. Sadly, my assumption was incorrect.
For all intents and purposes, this movie was about an incompetent ninny of a man that somehow, by some sort of jump in logic, begins to associate the visage of Nixon (as shown on random televisions throughout the movie at all the right times, so much so that it becomes cliche) with everything wrong with his life and apparently with society at large. This isn't to say Richard Nixon was a shady sod or a malevolent sort. Sure, he did lots of nasty things, but we all do.
Speaking of nasty things I ought to make dinner plans before my 8 p.m. bombing of Cambodia. Can't do such a thing on an empty stomach now can I?
The problem is that Penn's character ISN'T an everyman. Penn's character, the would be assassin, is instead every reason why the TRUE left in this country will never hold power and should never be allowed to hold power. Ultimately, Penn is a whiny, sniveling man-child incapable of reconciling that the world has certain things like necessary evils, compromise, a lack of acceptance, or the fact that sometimes life doesn't work out in the most fantastic of ways.
The fact that his breaking point is when he realizes that he can't sell office furniture using charm and wit but instead thinks that its some how more appealing to have some sweaty, mustachioed bumbling oaf with a stutter a stammer and clammy hands "tell it to them straight" is completely worthless. EVERY small thing that an emotionally developed adult would do for the sake of making the day go smoothly is instead some sort of personal mountain that he must have a revelation to climb.
The character, Samuel Bicke, is over bearing towards his ex-wife, steals from his successful brother in order to get HIS dream going, assumes more racism directed towards his black best friend than the black friend himself, and overall a sweaty, pissed pants walking one man play of living in a never land of equality and cuddly bunnies.
Crippled by insecurity, outlandish desires for some sort of prosperity that just shows up, whiny, puerile, and completely unaccepting of reality or compromise, this sad sack of a man-child stumbles through life from one self induced tragedy to another all while directing his rage at some person or system that has nothing to do with the fact that he's a selfish little fuck. He deserves all the loss, all the white guilt, all the economic destitution he can whip up for himself. Indeed this sorry little bastard made this movie the longest 1 hr and 35 mins I've ever seen.
For all intents and purposes, this movie was about an incompetent ninny of a man that somehow, by some sort of jump in logic, begins to associate the visage of Nixon (as shown on random televisions throughout the movie at all the right times, so much so that it becomes cliche) with everything wrong with his life and apparently with society at large. This isn't to say Richard Nixon was a shady sod or a malevolent sort. Sure, he did lots of nasty things, but we all do.
Speaking of nasty things I ought to make dinner plans before my 8 p.m. bombing of Cambodia. Can't do such a thing on an empty stomach now can I?
The problem is that Penn's character ISN'T an everyman. Penn's character, the would be assassin, is instead every reason why the TRUE left in this country will never hold power and should never be allowed to hold power. Ultimately, Penn is a whiny, sniveling man-child incapable of reconciling that the world has certain things like necessary evils, compromise, a lack of acceptance, or the fact that sometimes life doesn't work out in the most fantastic of ways.
The fact that his breaking point is when he realizes that he can't sell office furniture using charm and wit but instead thinks that its some how more appealing to have some sweaty, mustachioed bumbling oaf with a stutter a stammer and clammy hands "tell it to them straight" is completely worthless. EVERY small thing that an emotionally developed adult would do for the sake of making the day go smoothly is instead some sort of personal mountain that he must have a revelation to climb.
The character, Samuel Bicke, is over bearing towards his ex-wife, steals from his successful brother in order to get HIS dream going, assumes more racism directed towards his black best friend than the black friend himself, and overall a sweaty, pissed pants walking one man play of living in a never land of equality and cuddly bunnies.
Crippled by insecurity, outlandish desires for some sort of prosperity that just shows up, whiny, puerile, and completely unaccepting of reality or compromise, this sad sack of a man-child stumbles through life from one self induced tragedy to another all while directing his rage at some person or system that has nothing to do with the fact that he's a selfish little fuck. He deserves all the loss, all the white guilt, all the economic destitution he can whip up for himself. Indeed this sorry little bastard made this movie the longest 1 hr and 35 mins I've ever seen.
Great news in the battle against AIDS
http://www.breitbart.com/news/2007/02/08/070208181728.gwrr8uym.html
While the level of AIDS in Africa is a heartbreaking tragedy, the desperation caused by it is opening up windows for rigorous drug testing for vaccines and treatments. Its a silver lining if there is one...
Hopefully this will work. All fingers crossed
While the level of AIDS in Africa is a heartbreaking tragedy, the desperation caused by it is opening up windows for rigorous drug testing for vaccines and treatments. Its a silver lining if there is one...
Hopefully this will work. All fingers crossed
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Taken from Sullivan. Great Quote on Conservatism
http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/2007/02/quote_for_the_d_4.html
thanks to Andrew Sullivan if he's reading this.
Gentleman shall we discuss
thanks to Andrew Sullivan if he's reading this.
Gentleman shall we discuss
A fond hello to my dear friend Alfonso in Chicago
My friend Alfonso just started up a blog over at
http://sundaemourning.blogspot.com/
this fine gent is a cornucopia of music information and discussion. May you all enjoy his thoughts as much as I do.
http://sundaemourning.blogspot.com/
this fine gent is a cornucopia of music information and discussion. May you all enjoy his thoughts as much as I do.
Sooner or Later...
...If you haven't heard the best band to ever emerge from Philly then you're truly missing out. Here's a clip from their latest dvd. This band is the always fantastic MARAH
This blog underconstruction
Welcome to the entry recounting the tables, misadventures, and musings of a libertine stuck in the wasteland of decay,debauchery and eccentricity that resides on the outskirts of Philadelphia. An area with culture borrowed from its neighbors and more chips than shoulders allowing.
Here are somethings that will be on deck in the very near future:
Art Galleries- hopefully I can give a rundown of whatever one my travels take me to this week
Wine- what libertine doesn't have a penchant for the libation rendered from the vine
Literature & Politics- horrid conversation for a dinner date with a beautiful lady but necessary for fits of wit and social cunning.
Fashion & Style- they are not the same but that is a musing for a later date
Philadelphia Nightlife- where a libertine makes his mark
Whatever Else I Feel Fit to Discuss.
I bid you adieu,
The Libertine (aka Charles)
Here are somethings that will be on deck in the very near future:
Art Galleries- hopefully I can give a rundown of whatever one my travels take me to this week
Wine- what libertine doesn't have a penchant for the libation rendered from the vine
Literature & Politics- horrid conversation for a dinner date with a beautiful lady but necessary for fits of wit and social cunning.
Fashion & Style- they are not the same but that is a musing for a later date
Philadelphia Nightlife- where a libertine makes his mark
Whatever Else I Feel Fit to Discuss.
I bid you adieu,
The Libertine (aka Charles)
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