The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive


[Fifth]

Why I can never sleep and never will know, I won't at this rate, it's a
mystery. I worry the world, continually try to grasp it in its entirety,
miss things left and right, question authority, question the grounds and
desire of authority, generally make things worse - I can't let go, feel I
have to recreate, make the world over and over again... It's an
occurrence, something like an atmosphere that accompanies me, makes
others uneasy as I stumble hopelessly through life. At this point, there
are so many voices, so many scripts of things going wrong - the world not
only falls apart, but it _ceases to exist_ - meaning decathects as
depression and worse set in. This sounds abstract, but isn't; it's
dominated by one or another scenario that compulsively repeats and
develops until the nightmare appears, everything collapses, the story
changes to another, and the cycle repeats. This occurs through sleep and
wakeful states, hypnagogic states as well - it's _there_ as a process in
all its fury. There's no end to it; I'm left in a constant state of
exhaustion, no matter how hard I try to write myself out of it...

Tue May  4 02:32:56 EDT 2004


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