The two faces of Modernism: Construction and Destruction or Frank Lloyd Wright and Guns

America and guns. You can’t have one without the other. This is what we were waiting for. Our host C owns over 70 handguns, rifles and shotguns. On Thursday we got to shoot us some guns. We drove about an hour out of town to a “sportsman’s club” and had the range to ourselves.



Here’s the list of firearms we had in the trunk of the car:
Ruger Mark 1 .22 Caliber
Colt Trooper .22
Walther PPK .380
CZ 75 9mm
Lueger 9mm
Smith Wesson 27 Magnum .357
Ruger Super Blackhawk 44 Magnum
AK 47 manufactured by Norinco, Peoples Republic of China (however, the stock was made in the U.S.A.)



C gave us a primer on firearms before we fired our first shot with the Ruger Mark 1. After we worked our way slowly but surely up towards larger caliber guns, we proceeded to hit targets at 50 and 100 yards.

It takes a lot of practice to hit a small target like a bunny or chipmunk at 100 yards. The bunnies (provided by a local breeder) were easier to hit because they tend to sit still. They only moved when they heard the shot and then they didn’t move fast or very far. A cocky chipmunk provided more of a challenge after we became comfortable with certain guns. The little fellow seemed to have lost his fear of humans and guns.



I was always keen on firing a 9mm such as a Glock. C doesn’t own a Glock but he owns a CZ 9mm. B was keen on firing the Walther PPK. However, after a day on the range I preferred the AK 47. That preference might make me a Commie. B preferred the Smith and Wesson 27 .357. If B were a cop, that preference may indicate a tendency to flout rules and regulations, thus unintentionally saving the taxpayer money by alleviating court and imprisonment costs. I’ll let B speak on the .357’s merits;

“I find the Magnum to be aesthetically pleasing, punk! And sliding the bullets into the cylinders has a certain sensual je ne sais quois about it, punk! The Magnum exemplifies the modernist principle, form follows function, punk! This is a gun that knows what it is, punk! It feels good in the hand, sounds great and has a unmistakable recoil, punk! It made my day!”

The Walther PPK was the runner up for both of us. Now we know why James Bond likes to keep this baby tucked in his tuxedo.

After a fun day of shooting, nothing hits the spot better than bunny stew with chipmunk kebab.



Falling Water, is a house designed by Frank Lloyd Wright in the late 30's, for the Kaufman family. Located in Pennsylvania, it was about a two-hour drive east of Youngstown, OH. Our hosts drove us down on Wednesday. I could easily get used to living in such nice digs. However, it would take longer to get used to the sound of the water flowing in the stream underneath.

Born to Run: Good-bye New York, hello Ohio.

…chrome-wheeled, fuel-injected, stepping out over the line, whoa
baby this town rips the bones from your back, it’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap, we gotta get out while we’re young,
because tramps like us, baby we were born to run!

Bruce Springsteen, a.k.a The Boss

P.S. We're not running from New York, we're running from Jersey.

The Pits of New York

If you’re in the east village on Avenue A check out Benny’s Burritos. We had our last dinner with friends there on Sunday night after an afternoon at Coney Island. Oh yeah, Coney! Let me take a minute to describe our experience there.




Coney is the poor man’s Disneyland. It looks and smells worn out. The boardwalk is physically dangerous in sections. Planks of wood are worn out and it would not have taken much for one of us to have had their foot slip between the boards and get seriously injured.

The only ride we went on was the Cyclone rollercoaster. It is hard to believe this wooden antique can still legally operate. I screamed like a little girl down the first drop and every lightning fast twist and turn on the rickety beast. We paid $6 to have our lives flash before our eyes for less than two minutes. After stepping off the ride you have a strange sense of having survived a Herculean trial by fire. You feel re-energized and ready to take on the world. Who needs motivational speakers?

If you walk east along the boardwalk from Coney you quickly arrive in Odessa, on the Black Sea. Actually, you reach Brighton Beach which has a large Russian émigré community. Russian is the lingua franca of the denizens on the boardwalk and of the cafes that face the beaches of the Atlantic. Every table at the Tatiana or Moscow on the Beach was occupied by the latest batch of Slavic-americans.

When we doubled back to Coney, B and I paid five dollars each for the opportunity to “Shoot the Freak” with paint balls. The “Freak” was actually a young agile guy who was well protected by body armour and a shield. He chose to stand very still and yawningly deflect our colourful projectiles with his shield.

But back to Benny’s Burritos in Manhattan. We had a surreal experience after dinner. We were lucky we finished dinner. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.





The owner of the two dogs, who looked like a hobo from Tolkein's Middle Earth, informed us his two canines are two of God’s gentler creatures and pose no physical threat to us. They were just thirsty and being friendly. As he said, “They’re brothers. When they’re not fighting they lick each other’s dicks. I have a brother. We fought, but we never licked each other’s dicks. But so what? Whatever, I grew up in the 60s.” He did a little dance as he said that.

I offered B $100 if he would finish drinking the water from the glass the dog just slopped his tongue all over. New York is expensive after all. He briefly considered until he recalled what the dogs liked liking.

Time Travel in Times Square

On Friday night, July 21st, after we ate at VYNL we walked to Times Square. We entered the Virgin Music mega store at about 11:30pm and didn’t leave until almost 1:00am. Why? Well because we had to buy all the things we didn’t know we needed.


80s music was on sale. We bought CD copies of artists we own on LPs and cassettes. I walked away with Sinead O’Connor’s first album The Lion and the Cobra, Thomas Dolby’s The Golden Age of Wireless, featuring She Blinded Me With Science and One of Our Submarines. I also picked up a 3 CD compilation of 12” remixes of 80s anthems. Among the remixed tracks: Love comes quickly by the Pet Shop Boys, Oblivious by Aztec Camera, Pale Shelter by Tears for Fears, Trampoline by Julian Cope, The Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunny Men, Brand New Friend by Llyod Cole and the Commotions among other 80s gems.

The B man picked N.W.A for when we cruise through the streets of Compton, as well as Catching Up With Depeche Mode for the track Blasphemous Rumors , Purple Rain by Prince and a now almost forgotten semi-classic, Welcome to the Pleasure Dome by Frankie Goes to Hollywood. Wow, remember their cover of Springsteen’s Born to Run (I think we’ll give that one heavy rotation in the car) or the power love ballad The Power of Love?

So, over $200.00 later we walked out with shopping bags full of memories. Credit cards are great things, aren’t they?


P.S. I also found a DVD copy of the documentary Harlan County, USA, the fabulous academy award winning story of a strike by coal miners in the 1970s. Check it out if you have a chance.
UNION YES!

N.Y.C

We had a terrific hotel apartment right on the corner of 7th and 24th with a corner suite kindly provided by a friend who was out of town.

We arrived late on July 19th.


The next morning we had a late lunch at the Pepe Giallo. An older woman seated next to us told her friend an anecdote about Leonard Cohen and why he always wears suits and never jeans, while they enjoyed a non-kosher lunch of prosciutto.

Thursday we met up with B’s friend B and visited the galleries in Chelsea. I found Richard Serra’s work in the Gagosian gallery to be the most spectacular and outrageous. What do you say to gigantic slabs of rolled and forged steel as Gesamtkunstwerk? I forgot to ask to see a price list.

However, when I looked at a digital painting by Zara Hadid at another gallery, that struck my fancy, I made the mistake of asking for the price. The young lady at the desk replied, “I’ll get you someone to talk to.” That was a signal that I wasn’t going to be able to afford it. $50 000.00. B suggested that I make an offer. I wonder if I could have talked them down to $5000.00?

Later in the evening, dinner was served to us on paper plates at a little pizza joint in Greenwich Village. From there we visited Pravda, a martini bar done up in the old soviet aesthetic. Pravda’s dynamism however, seems to have been a lot shorter lived than the USSR. It used to be the Hip spot back in the mid 90s. Hip today, a fashion faux pas later todayl!

Friday was another gallery day. We visited the Met, followed by the Neue Gallerie and the Whitney. Visiting so many galleies and museum all in one day leaves one feeling overwhelmed. You need days to properly see the works in each one. The Met had works by Picasso, Miro, Hopper, Schiele, Chagall, Matisse, Monet, Manet, Van Gogh and sundry very famous others. The Whiney has collections by Americans such as Hopper, Warhol, Rauschenberg, Koons, Cindy Sherman, Pollack and De Kooning. Definitely a sensory and cultural overload.

Dinner that night was at a place called VYNL, a tribute to the days when we purchased our music on 12” vinyl disks. The menus were inside old doulble LP jackets. My menu was inside the Beastie Boys Licensed to Ill record jacket.

Saturday afternoon was spent at the MOMA. More spectacular art! You can’t visit New York just once. It helps if you live in Toronto of course. It also helped tremendously that B’s friend C managed to get us into all these fabulous cultural institutions for free. Thanks C! New York is EXPENSIVE.

Saturday night we put on our finest and went to a wedding reception in Brooklyn. It took place on the roof of an old factory building with the view of Manhatten you see below.




Hmm, did I leave something out?

New York Stories

Lots of stories to tell. Stay tuned! You'll hear about the two Pitbulls who jumped on our table to drink water.

P.S. I'm in one of the above pictures. Can you spot me?

Getting lost but finding great Pesto! Stormy night in West Haven, CT

After we left Sunapee last Monday it was my job to navigate to New Haven. However, I didn't think I needed to check the map until an hour after we were cruising through the lovely landscape of New Hampshire. "Shit! We're on the wrong Interstate. We're on 91 headed to Boston. We needed to take 95 to New Haven."

B turned the Magnum around and took a smaller road to hook up with the 95. We stopped in Keene, MA for lunch. It costs lots of money to eat healthy food in America but it's worth spending the Green to eat green. Organic farming seems to have taken off in the north-east.

Right on Target!

New York is overwhelming. But I can't talk about N.Y.C just yet.

I have to bring you up to date with what we did in New Haven, CT.
I suppose I could tell you about visiting Yale University. But let me begin with my visit to a shopping phenomenon called TARGET. Being from Toronto I have not yet had the luxury of shopping at Target. Target is a high end discount retailer. You should pronounce Target like the French would, the final T being silent. Look at what we bought.

What would you do if you were walking through a store and saw an exact radio controlled replica of the car you're using for your American road trip? You would buy it of course! You'd buy two!

I'm not much of a shopper but Target has some nice STUFF! Stuff you didn't know you needed.

Posh Digs in New England.

I’m not trying to change the world, I’m just looking for New England!







Sunapee, New Hampshire to be exact. C and M have been expecting us at their lake house for hours.

Our late start out of Kingston contributed to our tardiness but so did the curiosity of the United States Border Patrol. After asking us twice if we have ever been arrested, (replying no only once doesn’t seem to suffice) we were very politely requested to park our car in the inspection area. As the official searched the Magnum we were entertained in the processing area.

One of our Quebecois compatriots was being denied entry to the U.S because he was busted with a small amount of cocaine over 20 years ago when he was 18 years old.

Some Mohawk teenagers (the border crossing was on an Native Indian reserve) were being held up because they gave their car a new paint job during the last few days. The Q and A was as follows: “Who’s car is it? My friend’s. What was the original color of the car? Black. When was it painted? About five days ago. Why? It got scratched. The car got scratched so you painted the whole thing? Yeah. How much did it cost? $3000.00. Who paid for it? My friend, he has the receipts for it.”
Keeping America safe apparently also requires fingerprinting senior citizens who don’t have Canadian or American citizenship. If you saw the two seniors who were fingerprinted you’d wonder what possible threat they could cause America. Nor do I think they were heading to pick fruit as illegal workers.
But I digress…
Forty-five minutes after we arrived at the border we were free to go. It was B’s artwork that raised some alarms. The border official wanted to make sure his art was only for gifts and not for sale. Nothing else suspicious was uncovered in the car.
My job was to navigate our way to New Hampshire. In this I failed in a interesting way. We took our first wrong turn near Malone, New York. The result was that B spotted an 1978 El Camino from the highway when we were finally headed back in the correct direction. We pulled into the parking lot to admire it . The owner was near by and informed us he owned four El Caminos. He had interesting artwork on the car, as you can see below.






Long story short, we arrived in Sunapee at 8:15pm. C and M are Canadians who own a beautiful house on a beautiful lake which immediately reminds any Ontarian of our own beautiful cottage country.

Within minutes C handed us martinis and told us to empty the glasses molto rapido so he could refill them in order that we catch up to the level of inebriation of the rest of them. Well, if you’re gonna twist my arm!
A juicy barbequed tenderloin dinner completed the day. Thank you C and M!

No Sleep til... Kingston!

Just arrived in N.Y.C. But first let me bring you up to speed.


The story starts on July 14.

At approx. 10:30 PM on July 14 (Bastille Day), less than three hours after my last shift at work, we got our motor running and we headed out on the highway. First song of the trip was You Only Live Twice (sent to me by my friend Geda). We took Hwy 401 eastbound following the north shore of lake Ontario.
Fifteen minutes en route the shock of realizing I had forgotten my toothbrush took control of me. Where am I gonna find another toothbrush? So we turned around and went back to my house to fetch my toothbrush. Yeah right! When you’re traveling to America you don’t need to bring anything with you. Everything can be bought in the giant shopping mall that is America.
At our first stop for coffee at a Tim Horton’s near Belleville a line-haul driver from my former company stood in line behind me. I informed him that only hours before I liberated my self from the firm's employment. It was after five minutes of conversation that it dawned on us we knew each other from university in the early 90’s. He was a truck driver back then and I remember asking him if he intended to continue being a driver after he graduated. He said he did. Funny how life is, years later I meet him at a truckstop after having spent over 11 years in the same industry.

We pulled into Kingston, Ontario at about 1:15 AM . Kingston was once Canada'’s capital city until Queen Victoria decided to move the capital a couple of hundred kms inland to Ottawa, in case the Americans had any ideas of invasion.

B's buddy Nigel provided our first overnight loggings in his very hip crib. Bedtime was 3:30AM. Rise time was 10:30 and breakfast was at the famous Greek diner called Morrison'’s. We got back on the 401 to Cornwall to cross the border. B told me to shave before we got to the border to look more presentable. It was his stuff in the car that would raise the suspicion of the border patrol!

The Journey has commenced

Sorry, I am behind schedule in blogging. It has not been as easy as I thought to get internet access.

So far:
We left Toronto on the night of July 14 a few hours after my last day at work.
The first stop was Kingston, Ontario.
The next day on Saturday we left for Sunapee, New Hampshire. But first we had to get held at the border while the yankee officials searched our car.
Yesterday we arrived in New Haven, CT. That's where we are now. We visited Yale University today.
I will blog with many more details soon.
Next stop is New York City.
It is hot here!

Victory in Berlin! Celebration in the T-Dot!

Toronto is one of the world's great Italian cities. Just as they did back in 1982, thousands of people turned St. Clair Ave. West into a giant victory party. I was there 24 years ago and I was there again tonight. Viva Italia! Viva Toronto!

The Bigger Picture

What is freedom? Up until today I've given you the impression that this blog is only about hedonism and a type of freedom that emphasizes self-indulgence. Today I was given good reason to feel very guilty about my freedom to indulge in a long vacation.

Freedom to travel is important to many people but the greatest freedom lies elsewhere. It is something so basic most of us take it for granted everyday. The greatest freedom is that of good health.

Today someone I've gotten to know over the past year (I'll call her N) confided to me she was diagnosed with a serious illness. She will require major surgery and her life will never be the same. She told me with strength and dignity and in a way not to make me feel sorry for her. But sorry and guilty is how I feel.

Today was supposed to be a happy post. I learned today that I will be free from wage labour at the end of next week. I took a voluntary lay-off from the company I have been working at for over 11 years. This will give me the freedom to pursue some things I've always wanted to do.

My friend N told me there are still so many things she wants to do in her life. N I hope you still get to do those things. You are a fighter! You have my hopes and my prayers.

How many of us are willing to give up some of our "freedoms" to help others?
We should always keep our good fortunes in perspective.

The Car That Almost Made It

The Chrysler 300. This was the one B.P decided would be the one. It's fully loaded with all the bells and whistles and a navigation system to boot. If the desire for the latest electronic gadgetry is a sure sign of being high-prole, then we plead GUILTY! Lacquered in a beautiful white finish, this car may just be the apotheosis of the contemporary High-Proletarian automotive aesthetic.

This sweet ride didn't make the cut either though. But not because B.P. changed his mind about buying it. Here's the dirt on the failed deal, delivered by email from the current owner:

"Sorry bro but i have some issues goin on with Chrysler Financial & I don't think I'd be able to sell my lease now... Sorry man but if everything settles down and i wanna sell it, u gonna be the first person i would call. Sorry for inconvenience.
Regards."