Parkinson's law of triviality is C. Northcote Parkinson's 1957 argument that members of an organisation give disproportionate weight to trivial issues. He observed that a committee whose job was to approve the plans for a nuclear power plant spent the majority of its time on discussions about relatively minor but easy-to-grasp issues, such as what materials to use for the staff bike-shed, while neglecting the proposed design of the plant itself, which is far more important but also a far more difficult and complex task.
I like to leave a little something to the imagination some dead air some negative space some room to breathe not leaving it all up to punctuation your mind will connect the dots no matter how far apart they are no matter how hard you try not to the unwritten rule unspoken understanding unachievable ideal it’s out there it’s hard to describe but I know it when I see it and that’s not it and I’m not angry I’m disappointed but you can find something like it on the odd side of the street kitty corner from the coffee shop not that coffee shop that coffee shop lather rinse repeat as needed repeatedly it’s all been said before
This Rich Beyer sculpture used to live on a rotting log near the playground that used to be across from what used to be the Hugo House in what now is considered Cal Anderson Park. The sculpture lived there for 20 years or so inviting kids to climb on it as much as allowing junkies to puke on it. The cast aluminum held up well. When the reservoir was capped and the astroturf unrolled and the various reflecting pools and teletubby hills were installed the dragon was quietly trucked off into the woods of West Seattle where it now lives near a playground in Lincoln Park and that’s where I saw it last weekend.
You may know Rich Beyer and not even know it because of this "people waiting for the interurban" in Fremont. For me living in the salad days of Capitol Hill just a block away from the dragon I got to know it pretty well before I ever knew the artist’s name. Years later I got to know Mr. Beyer a little bit when he and his wife took me and my girlfriend out to dinner and we discussed his creation of a memorial artwork sculpture for Yianni to be placed under the viaduct. The city was down with it in its initial form but Yianni’s family was not into it and the idea was put away into the archives.
Climbing on this dragon again connected some dots and brought back a lot like olfactory memory or a song that’s connected forever to something yesteryear.
It's 1992 and I'm a daycamp counselor wrangling a whole bunch of other people's kids asking them to please stop beating the shit out of each other and take turns on the dragon.
24 years later I'm repeatedly repeating myself but these kids are mine.
Give me a box cutter and I will unpack 65 department store kids bikes then standing back to look at the pile of cardboard foam zipties and plastic shit instead of making some touchy feely environmental impact statement I will mutter well above under my breath something about box cutters and jet fuel’s inability to melt steel and bring down well constructed skyscrapers neatly in their own footprint.
Give me a gallon of McDonald's coffee and a flat of Safeway donuts and I will experience chest pains hypertension and neck muscle spasms.
Give me an adjustable wrench long enough and I will round out cross thread shear off the robot gorilla tight 13mm stem bolt on more than one cheap kids bike.
Give me an air compressor plugged into a succession of extension cords and I will blow the shit out of more pinched inner tubes than you could possibly replace before 9am on a Saturday.
when shit goes down and things blow up because the big one hit and people are standing around looking at their dead phones tapping swiping tapping swiping unable to feed their fucking facebook feed because there's no internet no electricity no running water no refrigeration no snapchat no uber no shazam no one bus away no linked in no google
when everything is fucked there's no app for that
please refer to your Chunk 666 manual for instruction on how to proceed
19 years ago I never thought I'd use the words insulated and curtains in the same sentence and I'd have to look at a map an actual paper Thomas Guide map to find an address in Rainier Beach and I might have to put 35 cents in a pay phone to call my dispatcher
this picture is a couple years old but it never gets old
there's something special something meaningful something that makes me smile in the thought of wearing a black pilderwasser live-wrong bracelet stacked on back-to-back with a used-to-be-ubiquitous yellow livestrong bracelet
adjustable stem maxed out riser bar cocked forward bar ends poking up riding high on a sprung out bouncy front suspension it makes my wrists hurt and my jaw hurt in a TMJ way and if I was a shop mechanic I would respect this setup with extra caution like dealing with a wounded animal but being a bike mechanic in an unconventional context the first thing I get to do is yank that cockpit and fling it across the parking lot so I can replace the stem and bars with something a bit more durable functional versatile traditional
There will be a meteor shower at 3am, this Kate Bush album is good, Nick, who I sort of knew, died yesterday— I tell you anything.
I told you when a guy in Pioneer Square yelled at me, “Someone just died back there!” I heard sirens Then he added, “Ya got a nice butt!”
I could think of no better response to death.
I told you that when Nick died I pulled his old bag, embroidered with his nickname, “Fingers,” from under my bed and cried, thinking of a painting he made of a refrigerator with a forest inside it.
I told you the lace of peeling gray paint surrounding an electrical meter which no one else would notice but you made me feel like a moderately-priced car rattling from outrageously loud, clear speakers.
All these words would be depleted by your absence like the word “Fingers” on that bag
I could walk around complimenting strangers’ butts, except “butts” would mean something different if you died and so would “compliments.”
I wouldn’t know what to pull from under my bed or put back.
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