Google Maps Street View is the anti-Stanton.  It’s aim seems to be to achieve the exact opposite of Brandon Stanton’s book “Humans of New York.”  Using what might be called “facial derecognition software” all human faces are blurred out, sometimes to funny effect, but sometimes it’s a little chilling.  You’ll never find a better illustration of this than on the Burke-Gilman Trail in Seattle.

Around 70th Street

Around 70th Street; note dog face not blurred out.

Instead of having a camera mounted on top of the car, this one was mounted on a pole at the back of the photographer’s bicycle while he rode along  from one end, the Sammamish River Trail in Kenmore, all the way to Ballard, where he stopped at the Missing Link (a section of un-Trail that Trail activists have been looking to fill in-to connect to another segment just north).

Here you can tell the camera is behind him, leaning forward yields this bizarre view.

Here you can tell the camera is behind him, leaning forward yields this bizarre view.

You look at these pics and have to wonder, who are these people?  What are they doing now?  Do they even realize they’ve become blurred out non-persons on the Burke-Gilman?

Human's X and Y turn to greet the camera near Kenmore.

Human’s X and Y turn to greet the camera near Kenmore.

In “Humans of New York,” individuals are zoomed in on, stopped temporarily, and asked if they’d like to offer something personal about their life experience, how they’re feeling etc.  When you zoom in on the humans of the Burke-Gilman all you get are things like this, a human walking near the University of Washington:

Disturbing; the closer you get, the further you are from knowing anything about them.

Disturbing; the closer you get, the further you are from knowing anything about them.

Sometimes when you get to an intersection, the date on the picture will zoom a few years ahead and you can see what has changed.  This view, like all of those from the Trail route run, dates from July ’09.

The only thing that has really changed here, almost exactly 5 years later,  is that the price of parking has gone up.

This shot is 5 years later, 2015

This shot is 5 years later, July 2015

Sometimes you see someone who simply looks as if they’ve been standing there the whole time, waiting for passers-by.  The anonymity of Trail-goers on any other day is a given; people pass by too fast to say hello to; except in the mornings, when everybody seems to be in a better mood.  Here, anonymity is made a certainty.

This one, captured near 105th St is a little creepy, especially the closer you get.

This one, captured near 105th St is a little creepy, especially the closer you get.

The ah-ha moment with Stanton’s book comes when you realize that even with all these various stories of pain or happiness; stories that can make them seem so different; people everywhere are pretty much the same.  It’s comforting yet also kind of exciting, even addictive.  Google Maps; however has rendered these resting workers (on the Trail around Lake City) inert, with no story to tell.

Here’s a strange shot of the Google photographer changing his shirt (or something) while riding along:

Then this view from Fremont from ’09:

And another in ’14, where the median has been taken away but the red car on the right seems oddly like the same one from 5 years earlier.  This view was made available by “stepping to the right” with the mouse.

Here is one of many generic bicyclists who can be found along the Trail:

Somehow, along the way in Fremont, people were warned of the approach of the Google Bike; perhaps the greeting was so nice the powers that be decided not to neuter any of their identities:

It's almost unsettling seeing actual faces after this virtual trip along the Burke-Gilman

It’s almost unsettling seeing actual faces after this virtual trip along the Burke-Gilman

It seems odd that Google Maps would even be interested in visually cataloging this trail; the appeal, I suppose, is more for those like me, those who want to make virtual journeys or trips down memory lane.  But the more you look, the more you can’t help but wonder who those faceless people are.

 

 

 

 

I’m proud of my short, aborted Hollywood career.  I don’t want to brag but I made a little money back then, you know, it was cool.   Added up it was probably like $1000 in earnings, but we’re talking 1981 dollars; and, adjusted for inflation I’d probably be sittin’ pretty if it was now!  In my day I got to rub elbows with luminaries like Michael Hershewe, who parlayed a guest starring performance on a Charlie’s Angels episode in 1980 into a starring role playing a kid named Todd on a sitcom called “American Dream” that was cancelled after 4 episodes.  But I simply knew him as Mike from 8th Grade cooking class.

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How long does it take someone to truly absorb their adopted home?  A few months, several years, perhaps immediately?  It’s easy to move to a place you like, to know you’ll eventually bond to it; so what is with that weird period of denial, of having to get used to?  Maybe it’s missing the old place, and maybe that’s true for some, but in my case it was just good old healthy cynicism.

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When I moved to New York I put everything I could fit in a blue trunk.  Naturally that meant my car, an old Oldsmobile beater, couldn’t go; I left it with my mom back in Miami Beach.  This is why, during my one month break from college (Pratt Institute puckishly called it ‘Winterim’) a year and half later mom offered to drop me off in front of the Miami Arena for a show.

My last 18 months in college, being in art school, and in New York; I strove to carve out an identity.  This path led me through the “good old days,” the Fifties and early Sixties and a stack of cassette tapes featuring Ol’ Blue Eyes, Frank Sinatra (I, like most discerning listeners, favored the Capitol Years).  I played them in my dorm as an ironic counterpart to the whining sounds of The Smiths emanating from my roomie’s boombox.  It was “Louder than Bombs” vs. “A Swingin’ Affair.”  But my interest wasn’t ironic, I was really into this.

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Pancho’s Giveaway is a status state.  It’s a metaphorical appellation given to unwilling LA County public school students by other very willing LA County public school students.  Pancho’s has been in non-existence at least since the early 70’s; maybe even longer than that.

It’s supposed to be a real place, but as far as anyone has known it has never actually existed.  Some kids claimed to have even been there, but they were lying.  Even today if anyone ever tells you they’ve been there or tries to tell you how to get there, well, they’re lying too.

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Around February of 1981 there were some weird rumors flying around LeConte Junior High School.  The rumors had one idea in common; that the LA Unified School District (LAUSD) was doing something with the school schedule.  Stories ranged from the optimists’ “They’re adding onto summer vacation!” to the pessimists’ “They’re getting rid of summer; we’ll have to be here all year!”  Since this was Hollywood of the early Eighties, even among the 7th, 8th and 9th Graders, the pessimists easily outnumbered the optimists, probably about 10 to 1.

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I was just minding my own business at work one busy night in the late summer of 1993; renting New Release VHS tapes to the weekend hordes of customers at my video store, Screen Memory. Well, it wasn’t mine exactly, the place was owned by the rarely seen, enigmatic and Horta-like owner Maureen. But I was the shift supervisor most evenings and that night I was standing at the counter, with video clerks Cynthia to my left and Beau to my right. Read more

The road to Savannah, Georgia from Atlanta is a long one, laid out like a bent outstretched arm with Macon serving as the elbow.  While chewing up miles on that long drive on the highway one can’t help but wonder why the state of Georgia didn’t simply use the direct path that General Sherman and his 70,000 troops so generously provided back in 1864.

They removed obstacles like railroad tracks and buildings, even helpfully leveling whole towns that lie in the path of the army.  When Sherman got to Savannah itself, however, he was so impressed by the town’s beauty that he ordered the place to be largely left alone.  And Savannah has been mostly left alone by developers and the modernizing tendencies of succeeding generations ever since.

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When you’re ten years old you go where you’re told. You report for duty to places not of your choosing. Sure, you can have a little positive input, “C’mon Dad can we can we can we?!” But the rule of thumb is to keep negative feedback to yourself; at least it was like that for me.

There may not have been a lot of choice, but that was usually OK, you didn’t have to plan, or buy gas, or take time off from work or rearrange things in your schedule. Just grab a few things (some fortunate days it was my Big Wheel) and get in the car with the big people and go.   Time moves so slowly for a kid who has no decision-making worries that he just deals with it and truly lives in the moment.

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It takes the efforts of not only the famous, but also those of the not-so-famous to make the Hollywood machine really work.  The annals of filmdom are filled with many moments that today are unheralded, but at the time of production were vital to add coherence to the whole, whether it was a movie or a TV show.  Finding and closely analyzing these moments can even lead to a deeper understanding of the careers of those involved.  One such moment occurs at 17 minutes 10 seconds into episode two, season one, of the CBS series “Simon & Simon.”

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