14 January 2002
My father, who before his untimely death was one of the greatest creators of institutional architecture these isles have ever been blessed with, sadly did not have many opportunities to pass on his wisdom, or at least not to me. In what I wish I had known were his final years, I was occupied with a fairly heroic cocaine habit that left me personally bankrupt and with a Kirlian aura as tiny and black as a charred rat's cock.
Obviously, his decease was something of a wake-up call. I woke up, found that I had inherited a substantial amount of cash, cleared my accounts with a number of the less charming loan sharks of this less than charming city, and dialled out for a small mountain of Zen tapdancing powder.
It was during the subsequent and expensive hospitalisation that I finally got around to reading his magnum opus, The Role of the Civil Engineer in the Construction of Modern Consciousness. A definite eye-opener. Perhaps the most lucid account in existence of the importance of clean, well-staffed facilities and public utilities, and their correct disposition throughout the urban landscape, it also revealed itself to my soundly hatcheted doors of perception as the handiwork of a considerable Qabalist. Perusal of his personal papers confirmed this suspicion, and much more besides. It turned out that the old goat was a sharper operator than his employers had ever suspected. Or, for that matter, his family. Perhaps if we had made an effort to be more indulgent, or even more affectionate, I might not find myself in this position. Still, doesn't particularly matter.
Invitational design tournament tournament light a candle where why and the first and the fourth.
Sorry. A localised effect. I could delete it, but it might be of interest later.
What I was trying to say was something he used to tell me. Keep an eye on the angles, Daniel. If the angles are right, then everything else can be fitted around them. As a piece of advice, it covers pretty much everything from ripping off your dealer to anal sex. But the wider importance of the phrase was only made clear by a marginal note in one of his notebooks. Just a jotting, a doodle really. It's probably for the best that people very rarely go through their entire printed output while still living, or it might have been the old man standing here and the work of the world and the work of the world and not me.
It's an impressive structure, which I am afraid you will probably never be able to see. You'll appreciate the need for a certain degree of secrecy, I hope. On the bright side, you should at least feel privileged that yours is the first city to have its very own logolite. As far as I can tell, the more a city has been constructed according to the principles of The Role of the Civil Engineer in the Construction of Modern Consciousness, the more effectively this ought to work. And this place was where my father did his best work.
The factors are attractors where the work is the world and the turns turn round and round.
They're getting closer together. This is according to plan so far. I'm not entirely sure that he knew what he was building, or if he would ever have finished it. But his structures, the movement of machines and the way light reflects from polished windows, connect. It's the angles. They form a complex lock, and the logolite is the key. A doodle in a grotty leather notebook. Some of the angles aren't even visible to the naked eye.
And it's already working. This won't even register as a tingle in your head, but your language centres are being decentralised. Think of it like this; your brain is a vertical building, containing the different offices and subsections necessary to keep the systems running. To keep a complex system operating with the necessary resources and amenities. All Bristol fashion.
However, such monolithic, single-structure buildings are a symbol of the inefficient central bureaucracies of the past. The future is in outsourcing provision and maintenance across a series of administrative hubs. The discomfort, which I regret may well prove fatal, is the first stage in reorganising the civic architecture of the human being. Processes will be centralised and redistributed incompatibility sawbone evitable inevitable edible.
It's the first step in the creation of a better-organised, tidier, more civically responsible humanity. I am grateful for your cooperation, and look forward, in the event of your survival, to cooperating on future projects.
Have a pleasant day. Have a civil day. Cortex cortege albumen electrum cartilage Carthage hecatomb.