A Rant. (Hey, It's Something Other Than The Felon!)

This townhouse development started going up at some point after we left the neighborhood after the fire. At the time we left, this was a vacant lot that had once (long before we moved back to Phoenix) been occupied by a rambling single-family house that was bulldozed at some point. For years it sat vacant and overgrown with weeds.

I was heading to lunch after visiting one of our west-side offices about three years ago and was surprised to see this going up. It looked interesting in a stark, brutal modernist sort of way and I was looking forward to seeing it completed.

Sadly, even after we moved back it seemed construction had stalled, and I cursed the developer every time I rolled over the huge steel plates covering underground sewer work that had literally been in place for over a year after our return.

Then, one day the plates were removed, holes filled, and paving was replaced. Construction stalled again a couple months later and the property was broken into. Work finally resumed (I guess the City lit a fire under the developer to get it finished) and a year later they're finally finished, but apparently unsellable. They were originally on the market for around $300K, but folks weren't exactly beating the doors down to buy at that price point because they're now up for rent—and even now no one seems to want to live there.

It's not surprising. While they have a nice view of the golf course across the street, they're at the corner of a noisy, very well-traveled intersection, and the only vehicular entrance to the property—and the units' garages in the back—is a single entrance that's accessed either by a right turn going east or an impossible left turn going west (necessitating pulling into the left turn lane of the intersection on the street immediately to the north of the property.  There's a paved alley out back that could be used for access but they'd have to drive a block down 19th Avenue and then double back.

From a couple years ago, but still illustrates the ridiculously designed entrance these units were given.

There's no private space (which from the looks of it could've easily been accomplished out front with some fenced patios), no protection from the elements above the front doors, and absolutely no guest parking. And oh, did I mention…there's no street parking on either of the roads bordering the property? Even if the chained and padlocked gates in the fence that surrounds the property are one day opened, there's no place for trucks to deliver without pulling into the bus stop immediately out front. It's no wonder they can't give them away…

*I stand corrected…apparently are still for saleat an absolutely ridiculous price for this neighborhood. And at least one is for rent…at an equally ridiculous rate.

This Looks So Good to Me Right Now

We're at that time of year when it's consistently between 101°-110℉ every single day in Phoenix. I can't tell you how tired I am of leaving the house in the morning at 7 am and it's already over 90℉ because the entire valley is paved over and is a heat battery. Unfortunately there will be no real relief for at least  another six—if not eight—weeks.

Even though Arizona does not observe daylight savings time, our need for continual air conditioning—at least here in "The Valley of the Sun"—does seem to pretty match up with it.

And This, Children…

…is why Phoenix doesn't get rain. This is a perfect illustration of the heat bubble that rises over the city during the otherwise wet, monsoon months of summer. And why does this happen? Because the entire valley is paved over. The pavement absorbs the heat during the day, and then re-radiates it all night (which is also why we seldom drop below 90F in July/August). Storms approach, but dissipate or just split and go around this heat bubble, leaving the city dry.

Tucson to the south of us on the other hand, has retained its natural character and isn't paved over nearly as much, allowing it to get those beautiful summer monsoon storms.

So This Happened…

As they are wont to do, this haboob came out of nowhere two days ago. We got no rain, but the high winds knocked our electricity out for about 90 minutes.

This photo was taken by Ben on his commute home. He pulled off the road (as you're supposed to do) because visibility can fall to zero in a matter of minutes.

And the trees that do change color (there are damn few), don't do that—or drop their leaves until January.

Blast from the Past

For any local Phoenix readers (do I even still have any local readers) over a certain age who've been here a while…

I found these pictures online while trying to dig up some info on another Phoenix landmark of the early 80s, Hotbods.

The Connection was my favorite watering hole back in the mid 80s. When I returned from San Francisco in 2002 I was greeted by a vacant lot and news that the owner had died of AIDS sometime in the 90s. The new owner of the property apparently couldn't raze the building fast enough, and I wouldn't be surprised if they'd salted the earth on top of it.

So many memories. So many ghosts.

Here are some of my own pictures from the AIDS Benefit Auction that was held at the place in October 1983:

Donnie, a bartender at The Connection.
My housemate Steve Weirauch (center), whom I met at the Connection a few months earlier, and the guy he was dating at the time of the auction (right).
Donnie, a bartender at The Connection.
Patrons. The guy dead-center in the phoeo in the background was one of the bartenders on the disco side of the house. I lusted in my heart, but unfortunately that was as far as it got.
Jack Long (guy in the grey t-shirt) and I dated for a while. And yes, he lived up to his name.

Brent Walker, one of the bartenders on the disco side of the house. While I was more interested in connecting with the other bartender (whose name completely escapes me at this point), it was Brent who I eventually hooked up with. I ran into Brent—again, behind a bar—at the Midnight Sun in San Francisco several years later. To this day, I can't hear Joe Yellow's "Lover to Lover" without thinking of him.
A good view of the infamous Mack truck that was part of the decor of the bar.
Steve and his boyfriend posing in front of the truck. I never partook of any of it, but I understand a lot used to happen in the cab of that truck.
The group St. Tropez performing—eh, lip syncing—at the bar for the benefit auction.
More lip syncing from the group St. Tropez at the bar for the benefit auction.

I may have posted these before, but frankly I'm too lazy to go looking. In any case they'll probably still be new to some of my readers. (I'm discovering that over the years I've repeated myself so many times on this here blog thingie it's ridiculous.)