This will be poorly written, in one of those juvenile, petulant and self-aggrandizing rationalizations about theoretical consistency. You know how it goes: why should I strive for pellucid and trenchant prose when I do nothing but chronicle the filth that runs like a river from developer greed to homeowner indifference (or grasping desperation, should you wish to be more charitable)? I’m just trying to be in touch with the impossibly low standards with which we prop up our real estate bubble.
It’s an ugly, ugly town, walking from the Mediocre Mile that is lower Sixth Avenue, to the tripe lining the Bowery. And I don’t even get to the Kips Bay or the Upper East Side that often. Whereas I used to lament the dearth of places where it even seemed possible to insert a well made structure, now I am horrified at the apparently limitless opportunity for the very opposite.
I didn’t think that the regular notice of design atrocities (and wrong-headed planning) would change anything, nor I was looking for some personal edification that doing so was exceptional. In part, it was an exercise in writing (and a poor one at times), and the press of time — committed to the banal trade of labor for capital — and a decision to refocus the residual space in my head to other things means it’s time for an indefinite hiatus. So thanks for reading, there are no promises of a return here.
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For which we are truly not thankful.
This will be poorly written, in one of those juvenile, petulant and self-aggrandizing rationalizations about theoretical consistency. You know how it goes: why should I strive for pellucid and trenchant prose when I do nothing but chronicle the filth that runs like a river from developer greed to homeowner indifference (or grasping desperation, should you wish to be more charitable)? I’m just trying to be in touch with the impossibly low standards with which we prop up our real estate bubble.
It’s an ugly, ugly town, walking from the Mediocre Mile that is lower Sixth Avenue, to the tripe lining the Bowery. And I don’t even get to the Kips Bay or the Upper East Side that often. Whereas I used to lament the dearth of places where it even seemed possible to insert a well made structure, now I am horrified at the apparently limitless opportunity for the very opposite.
I didn’t think that the regular notice of design atrocities (and wrong-headed planning) would change anything, nor I was looking for some personal edification that doing so was exceptional. In part, it was an exercise in writing (and a poor one at times), and the press of time — committed to the banal trade of labor for capital — and a decision to refocus the residual space in my head to other things means it’s time for an indefinite hiatus. So thanks for reading, there are no promises of a return here.