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The following is the text of a call for participation circulated by the editors of Blast V in May 1996:





WE INVITE YOU to develop a SCENARIO for BLAST 5.

We are looking for submissions that make use of our contemporary experience of stories. These stories, increasingly nonlinear and hypertextual, contradictory and irresolute, are built upon an ever-expanding multiplicity of media, their lines of continuit y networked into complex webs. The BLAST 5 project takes the form of a year-long drama composed of scenarios, intercutting real life, artificial life, scripted life, telematic life, and afterlife.

The setting for BLAST 5, "Crossroads," appears below. In some manner, your scenario should engage this setting and the BLAST 5 drama that departs from it. Your scenario can take any form, but we encourage those that evoke action. The developing storyli nes will be hyperlinked and can be accessed at any time through the BLAST 5 Theater of Operations, or they may be relayed to you by someone who is participating in the project.

Some form or aspect of your scenario--such as a score, script, recording, recipe, game, diagram, index, drawing, letter, plan, prop, map, mask, code--can be included in the BLAST 5 "vehicle" and/or in the various BLAST 5 "stage sets." These vehicles an d stage sets are environments where the scenarios are played out. They provide a way for participants to engage your scenario and possibly assume roles in it. Scheduled stage sets include the Sandra Gering Gallery in New York (date to be announced), and the "blast_stage" on the PMC-MOO [telnet: 7777] at various times. The BLAST 5 Theater of Operations may also operate as a stage set (or a part of one), and other stage set locations may be announced.

The BLAST 5 vehicles are portable stage sets that individuals may buy or lease. They will be available for purchase at galleries (through Sandra Gering Gallery) and bookstores (through Distributed Art Publishers / D.A.P.).

To submit a proposal, please send a short informal summary of your project to BLAST, 334 East 11 Street #2B, New York, NY 10003 USA, tel (212) 677-8146, fax (212) 505-6562, email Proposals may be submitted at any time, however editoria l review meetings are held on May 30 and September 1. We encourage you to contact us first to discuss any questions you might have before you submit your proposal.

A conference will be scheduled to coordinate with the stage set at the Sandra Gering Gallery in late 1996. We are also requesting papers for presentation at this event. Please inquire as to themes and deadlines.

BLAST 5 is produced by THE X-ART FOUNDATION, a nonprofit artmaking entity based in New York. BLAST is an art publication that involves its participants in new experiences of reading and content production. For information on the XAF and BLAST, please click here or contact us for further information.

EDITORS: Marlena Corcoran, Jordan Crandall, Ricardo Dominguez, Sean Bronzell, Antoinette LaFarge, Heather Wagner, Adrianne Wortzel
VISITING EDITORS: N. Katherine Hayles, Gregory Ulmer
CONTRIBUTING EDITORS: Simon Biggs, Matthew Drutt, Lise Patt, Remco Vlaanderen, Noah Wardrip-Fruin


Sixth Avenue's nothing but old Highway Six as it passes through town. By some bad roll of the dice, I live at 1212, the intersection of Highway Six and the train tracks. Oh, it's not a bad neighborhood. There is no neighborhood. It's just where the line from the North Pole to the Gulf of Mexico crosses the line from the George Washington Bridge to the Pacific Ocean. Something called a town. At night when the trucks roll down so-called Sixth Avenue, I hear them coming from far away. The noise peaks and becomes a rattle as the truck passes. The bed settles as the truck pulls away. For a long, long time it gets fainter and fainter. At last I know it's gone and left me lying here in the wide midwestern night. The Doppler effect. W e drew it on graph paper in school. We didn't learn to calculate how it feels when a bell curve of loneliness peaks at your front door. On rainy nights sometimes the lightning strikes the rails out on the prairie. The jolt travels many miles, setting o ff warning signals all along the way. Ding, ding, ding, flash. Before I learned better, I'd wait for the train. Why sleep now, I'd think, when any minute a distant rumble will turn to a grinding, shrieking, slow train crawling across Sixth Avenue. Ding, ding, flash. Nothing. Rain. "It's nothing," mumbles my husband. "Lightning on the tracks." I think of the pioneers who laid this grid on miles and miles of nothing. Not all of them made it. What about that fiddler from Bohemia. They buried him at the crossroads. I shake my husband and make him promise one more time. If I die, don't bury me here.

Marlena Corcoran, "Crossroads"-home-

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