is anything in my ‘abstract proposal’ useful for the narrative text?

it seems to be written from the pov of an inhabitant of the ex/n universe.

on the other hand, it can be saved for the abstract, if the abstract is going to discuss the project in the manner that one would critique a book or film, ie, that the characters are always in the present tense facing events that are true to them, as opposed to an abstract that says ‘here is what john did to the phony ex/n universe’

or you can discard it, which, i have no doubt, is your intention

i believed that your proposal was probably a good one to weave into the abstract due to its pointed critique of the architectural climate. i am not sure if publius or the toastmaster are intended to have any real history in the building arts. although, i am certain that both are dilettantes who would likely snicker upon hearing about the crucifixion of btschumi, it may belong more in the exterior narrative or manifesto.

i have no plans to do away with your text or any of your contributions thus far.

honestly, i don’t think the chronology matters, at least was far as the aims are concerned.

i felt that the 3 aims were ordered in a way that would allow them to reference the three constructives in the order that they have been presented in the past: backlot, ivy, smoke.

the repetition of the shanties vs. towers seems anomalous

i cannot think of what you are referring to offhand but i will look and make the necessary adjustments. i will also add the utterance of the word bricolage by publius as you have directed.

we currently have 10 pages of auto-flowed loaded text fitting into the columnization you have prescribed. not bad.

this is meant to approach a subject matter for the abstract, not necessarily a character or tone.
read more…

listening to pglass 1000 airplanes on the roof and draughting courthouse plans transcribing nouveau journalistic scifi narrative.

i cant remember men in blue blazers. i cant remember men in hoods with silvery pistols trained on their temples, or laced up grey sneakers pressed firmly against spalling asphalt next to yellow chalk outlines of evaporated blood pools. i remember skies grey though, with smoke, with debris swinging before the sun from hovering spherical and linear devices, smudging out the sun. i remember the buildings were somewhat the same. i cant remember how they were different, other than the charred material, and the smoke. i heard how people used them, how they toppled them and stacked them under lakeshore drive. i cant remember people saying they saw the sun. those toppled towers were tunnels and they stretched beneath the freeways out to barren shores that looked like gas refineries. i remember yellow chalk drawn on walls in vague patterns that both camouflaged and pinpointed secret entries. when i dreamt of the tales passed to me they were more clear than those words i read on my screen. those mocking visages painted with the colours of our flag with pistols to their temples were smudged away. i cant remember seeing richter paintings until after the fall of the I-70 front. they were all stockpiled in manhattanville after the death of the last art-runners. smeared fragments peered through in my memories of those skylines. the cranes ramming into the penthouses and stalwarts cartwheeling through the sky from the remaining towers; they were covered with dust that flew like contrails so you couldnt forget their unholy paths through the green dusk. i cant remember dusk. i cant remember the sun turning the sky green. perhaps i cant remember correctly, but i believe i am trying not to remember at all.