Message-ID: <Pine.NEB.4.58.0404150113480.2122@panix1.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.aol.com>,
"WRYTING-L : Writing and Theory across Disciplines" <WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA>
Subject: My Shelley Tomb
Date: Thu, 15 Apr 2004 01:13:58 -0400 (EDT)
My Shelley Tomb "For I have found myself sincerly concious, crost day and night, enclined and embarrassing and prest; the seige on my heart in this desart brings an ach to me, somthing hardly expected. Ah, exhiliarating life and its violance! Yesterday, the atmospher was dark and threatning. I sought assylum, invelloped by my loved one; this time there were no strange occurences. I wept, I weep, I witnissed dayly medecines insuferably taken. The docter dissappoints; I have no expectation in this hacnied time. My headach grows worse with each quarell; scolars will judge. I await your decision to befal me; from the labratory to the lodgeings, I am comming. "How much longer with this disagreable life, improvisaing from the precepieces. I releive in my immagination, the seige to my concious soul which has staid too long in these appartments. Nothing has arrisen here or abroard, nothing to bring an end to these phisical sufferings. Wait; someone or somthing is aboutt; I will see, yes I an enclined to see. "These negociations..." - misspellings by Mary Shelley _