SIMON is amazed by what he doesnt care about. Hes bought nothing but a couple of new shirts and a few books. Hes thought of no new projects. He reads Progressive Architecture and critiques what he sees there in a mood of amiable colleagueship. Hed done a building in 1981 that had pleased him, a Cath?olic church in a not-good area near Temple University, where the liquor stores gave you your bottle by request over a formidable counter, no browsing in the stacks. The parish was so poor that hed cut his fee to almost nothing; the other partners were not happy about it but had accommodated him. The church was a bare-bones steel building with insets of glass block as its only de?sign flourish, these however stacked eighteen feet high in twelve bays on either side of the sanctuary -- the glass block was the light-giving element, and resisted thiev?ery, too. It had been popular in the 30s, considered a design cliche in the 40s, 50s, 60s and 70s, and pre?sented itself again in the 80s, fresh as new dung. Some?thing to be said for being fifty-three, you could enjoy the turning of the wheel. He feels every additional day a great boon. He doesnt understand people who have futures, palpable futures. He takes an interest in the obituary pages of the newspapers, the summations, tidy packages, So-and-so gets three inches whereas Tra-la-la got seven. He has a pain where his liver is presumed to be and is vomiting rather too much. Hes paid $35,107 in Federal taxes for last year and has before him a re?quest from the IRS for an additional $41.09. These people are wonderful, he thinks, they want the last forty-one bucks and nine cents. Youd think with the thirty-five thou theyd say lets have a beer and forget about it.

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