The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

February 22, 2003


ing is tuned to your tight flower in your hole - everything tuned to the
world - i heard there'd be music here - heard somethin:of your skin -
i see the holes in your skin - there are diaphragms - there are sounds
coming out - this is your flower - everyth:i'm sorry, i can't remember
what this is about - they said to come here - they said they're be music
here - i see the movement :g or other - you might know something about it:

your wanton g or other - you might know something about it is in my
forgiving g or other - you might know something about it -


happened to the other
who is the other
the other in anthropology
the other in philosophy

another that they would call a dog by the word 'dog,' yet at the beginning
their necessary appropriateness, one to the other, and could no longer be
other the others) of power (the power of mother the brother older father's
brother younger father's other each of brother elder brother younger - we
promise everything to each other - we give everything to each other -
coming - our final vows - without language, in silence - there are no
others another another anything bothering it, i bend my head and feet into
it when it is very younger brother elder brother of each other father's
younger brother father's older brother the mother of power (the power of
others) the other silent on the other side - use the royal 'we' - they
include us - we're madmen - another futile protest here -:they're getting
stronger by the minute - i see the movement :g or other - you might know
something about it: your wanton g or other - you might know something
about it is in my forgiving g or other - you might know something about it



i am one of the best writers in the world. i am working on an entirely new
mode of writing. my writing is the most intense in the world. it is a com-
pletely new direction for political discourse. it will be years before i
am recognized.  long after i am dead my writing will be read. new audien-
ces will discover new ways of reading my work. my work is not recognized
as poetry, fiction, non-fiction, net-art, non-fiction, or codework. i am
not recognized as the last romantic or the first harbinger of the future
of all culture. i will be recognized as all of these. scholars will search
through net archives, print sources, remnants of film, video, recordings,
for the slightest trace of my work. my work will be attributed to others.
there will be academic journals devoted to my work, and reputations will
rise and fall based on competing hypotheses. my works will be searched for
clues of identity, madness, influence, primogeniture. and i am ashamed of
this. i am ashamed for my contemporaries who find me arrogant, crazy,
dismissive, depressive, hysteric, obscene, furious, a nuisance, a pest,
useless, demanding, hyperbolic, obsessive, full of myself, elitist, vile -
a bad writer, a writer with too much writing - a non-writer - a videomaker
with too much video, filmmaker with too much film - an obscene organist, a
manic fake... i am ashamed for myself, who can only plead guilty to these
charges, these horrendous accusations. i am ashamed for our country, which
refuses me the honors i deserve. my work is subject to misunderstanding;
it requires patience that no one has and no one wants to give. i am
ashamed that i will no longer be alive when, in the troubling and far-
distant future, my work is rediscovered, for its insights, genius, range,
and all-encompassing worlds of philosophy, psychology, literature, and
fields not yet discovered. and i am ashamed that i must admit to this
truth, still so early in my career.


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