some urbanistic themes

Building urban second levels - already fait acomplis - but not just converting them, inserting them, first in the laboratory of the imagination, walking skyways that connect at commercial nodes and gardens, and also little slow trains that trundle quietly above the wilderness along strings of pearls. To explain a little, transit causeways that are hedged about with habitat towers. Ride the train for a day, stay at the midway hotel or at one of the eight hostels, and finish your journey at your leisure. Let's talk about hospitality as part of the urban design curriculum. An elevated roadway, not extremely high, not extremely wide, meandering across a mesa top, attached at various points to habitat, with a turnout and lookout park and below, gardens and studios connected by a path to a "mind" garden, while their balconies are overlooking a little cayon land. Cities as a building, not because of density but because of interconnectedness. A kind of tendril and cloud architecture, clouds of structure and space more than blocks of them. Postengineering, the cybernetic model for structure and architecture. The thinking very big imperative. Never mind construction, let's design our hearts out, in super-vast ultra-granular detail, cheekily playing around on other people's property but always with ultimate respect. Let us immerse ourselves in abstractions, in the logic of CAD. An unprogrammed computer. Well, it's not unprogrammed. Someone inserted a BIOS. Probably if you turned it on it would invite you to type something. You can type something and save it somewhere and when you reboot it will run whatever you just typed and saved. There's a set of commands the BIOS understands. Where are those documents? But, that doesn't matter. What's important is the idea of a blank screen on which you can make things happen. Excavate a gallery in the basalt mesa top, a perfect rectangular void, one hundred feet on one side, fifty on the other, and twenty feet deep, with a staircase carved from the rock descending into it and the entrance to the caves emerging onto its floor. Deeper in the site - this gallery is up behind it - a light shaft and stair case connects to the junction of two branches, one of which comes out at the Ogiva, and the other underneath the Foundry. Around the junction are the caves, for storing cheeses, such as liquid ones that come in bottles and barrels, and are made of grapes, or barley, and ones that are made from vegetables or fish or other meats, and ones that are made from flour, and ones that are made from milk and honey. Another shaft now is being built, from the gallery, back towards the Canyon, emerging eventually just below the cliff tops, where there will be a balcony restaurant, and access to the stair tower that takes you to the river's terraces below. Shopping systems as an urban planning topic. Making sure everyone has what they need, and what they want, professionally delivered without any fuss. Subsidizing beer in kegs and growlers to encourage people to drink the good stuff, making sure there's an ample supply of tea and tea makers. Teaching and equipping the people to cook with wood. A complete stop to co-housing development, unless it's a lodge house. A not-pinched frugality that is just like extreme abundance, achieved through space and simplicity. The apartment as more like a little valley you live in. Water trickling in through a little fountain at the top. Your kitchen is a ledge, as if you're an alpinist, and there's no sewage, just graywater cascades through reed pools in hanging dishes, and you poop in the garden and pee in a bale of hay. Your apartment, the garden, a little realm unto itself, suspended in space among dozens and hundreds of others and I think that was in some way the vision. You can't prove this can't be done any more than I can that it can. Just for example, what is to be done with excavated material, when we dig in the earth for cellaring? It's improper to just haul it away. Many tons of earth and rock need to be moved into the superstructure. Rock towers, and, deep in the superstructure little quarries, where the people can dig for rock and earth for their gardens. Playing around with a body of unbuilt architecture. With the utmost respect, radically revising it. Intersecting the apse and a new form, torroidal, and introducing a new form, ha, the tower, as a kind of fiber. An architecture of interlocking panels that simply lock together. Building everything in a kind of enzyme matrix, not kidding, entirely like 3D printing, except there are people clambering around inside it with picks and hammers, making adjustments, reformulating, and a printed part can move through the medium, and be joined, and unjoined. Freely drawing. What is it with all this pre-planning and fiddling about?