The Operating System

FIELD NOTES :: MARTIN BYRNE, Part 3, Take 1 :: To and From San Francisco, or; In-between Indeterminate Inebriate Islands

Architect Martin Byrne returns with more environ-poetic process notes…
You can see his previous entries at Part 1: Poetics and the Built Environment or Part 2 : Moments of Environmental Opportunity
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scars in the land, twisted like milk in black coffee
crusted barren, diffusing in the light pink layer of the sky
just a blur to separate the seas of earth
against
the seas of firmament.
that cold orange that clings
hugs desperately to
the undercarriage of the mechanical leviathan
soaring through its sea of sky
Breath catches hard in the solid perfect irrigated circles below
the dotting of 12 metal halides in an empty parking lot.
      and then the touch of ground.
it’s only once you hit ground that you realize the swipe of white is cloud and not the sea.
then the hills rise to meet you and the sense of depth is magnified before you realize you’ve stopped.
metal halides are those orange-y colored lights you see in home depot parking lots.
they last forever, but are orange. but now i just read that they are super-white.  i wonder if only i see them as orange.  hm.
none of these really have a location.  the first and last were written on a plane somewhere over ohio and colorado respectively [i think? no i just made that up, i dont know where i was]  and the middle one just sort of appeared in my notebook when i woke up the day after the wedding i went to, so i guess i wrote it while i was drunk [surprisingly good handwriting then too!]  i was physically in marin county [possibly] but mentally was nowhere-in-particular.
I really enjoy airports train stations bus depots etc because i feel like i have nowhere to be at any given time, except RIGHT HERE AT THIS EXACT TIME at the gate y’know? its like a big open door to disappear into.  i especially like being in those places alone, which i was the whole time, i enjoy layovers and have been known to occasionally smile when i find out a flight/bus/train gets cancelled/delayed.
Once while attempting to leave Vermont, my flight was cancelled and the people i knew had just gone on their honeymoon, so i had to walk [in the pouring rain! yay!] to a hotel and spend the night.  i didnt really do anything in particular but i had fun.  the next day i got on a train and was reading a book called Sex and Death, when it stopped and the conductor told everyone some poor soul had just committed suicide on the tracks [COINCIDENCE MUCH??]  they then put us on buses and sent us the rest of the way home to NYC.  i thoroughly enjoyed the whole thing.
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Meet MARTIN BYRNE  in his earlier FIELD NOTES: from the Architectural Uncanny:
Part 1: Poetics and the Built Environment
Part 2 : Moments of Environmental Opportunity

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