From the Atlantic article: In the world beyond the tar's sealed jar, wars have broken out; peace has been restored; the Internet has been invented and commercialized; the moon has played host to the tread of human feet. And there the pitch has remained, slow and slick and taking its sweet time.

I get to measure buildings for a living these days and I have to agree Donna.  They're really "organic" in the way time can affect every element of a building.   

Have you read Stuart Brand's "How Buildings Learn"? It explores this idea of the time dimension in built environments in detail.

http://www.amazon.com/How-Buildings-Learn-Happens-Theyre/dp/0140139966

We live - and our buildings exist - in a four dimensional world. Funny how many architects are oblivious to that when it is a basic, essential and universally prevalent existing condition.

Love the pitch drop - every material is plastic.

I have read that book, gwharton, in grad school.  Similar but *much* less academic is Thermal Delight in Architecture by Lisa Heschong - it deals less with material change and more with the human perception of the change, but it's a lovely little book.  Good summer reading.

Right on, Miles.

There's also this, Skinny Legs and All: The inertia of objects is deceptive.  The inanimate world appears static, "dead", to humans only because of our neuromuscular chauvinism. We are so enamored of our own activity range that we blind ourselves to the fact that most of the action in the universe is unfolding outside our range, occurring at speeds so much slower or faster than our own that it is hidden from us as if by a veil. We regard the objects that polka dot our lives as if they were rigid, totally predictable solids, frozen inferiorly in time and space.  Yet, how can we be so sure that we know what things are doing when we aren't looking at them? When our eyesight is inadequate to truly look at them?

I can't pretend that when I read this passage at age 23 it didn't deeply affect how I think about architecture, even if it is a pop culture novel.

I also use the patient waiting of buildings to help me do balance poses in yoga.  I figure if those studs and drywall can just be quiet and stand, so can I.

aliquid is Latin for somewhat, somebody or something. Atomically speaking, even diamonds are 99.9% empty space, waves of possibility.

My house seems like it is made out of liquid sometimes. 

i haven't ever thought of my house as liquid, but - since it's obviously a case study in entropy - same thing, i guess. 

@Donna this "I also use the patient waiting of buildings to help me do balance poses in yoga.  I figure if those studs and drywall can just be quiet and stand, so can I" I have done many times but never thought to frame in those terms...

"And, tint, atomically speaking, nothing is still, as atoms have constantly moving centers within all that space. It's beautiful."

you kind of sound like you smoked something; gimme..

this reminds of me musical instruments, like violins, violas and cellos. the good experienced luthier has both a concept of sound in mind and certain construction in mind to result in that sound (in tandem with choice of tone wood) as well as a certain style of execution that includes what is crucial to the sound and what is mostly aesthetic (either/or/in between both). so the scroll, the f holes, the maple back and the spruce top.

anyway, the luthier knows that these parts are all going to vibrate together and he s/he knows how to work the wood such that the eventual setting in of pieces will accentuate the instrument sound by harmonizing them (essentially top plate, bottom plate, side ribs, sound post..etc). the instrument, when very new, will probably sound its worse (given condition is generally intact) because the glued pieces have not yet "learn" to vibrate with each other and the varnish itself will change and effect acoustic changes. but the build of a good instrument was never for immediate result; a truly good violin will take some time to open up and will mature over many years -not only will the pieces learn to vibrate with each other but it is also said that their sonority is moulded by the particular playing style of the performer.

therein a similar analogy

Q:  How do I think of buildings?

A:  I either like them or I don't.

it is august in louisiana. everything is liquid.

Make yourself a mint julep to deal with it.  They sell those in the "New Orleans Quarter' themed section of Disneyland, IIR. 

i'll just stop by the drive thru daiquiri store on the way home.

I prefer to think about women and food. Not necessarily in that order.