The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

what i remember

jodee talking about having a child and she would not want to hurt it and
wouldn't hurt it and it would love her and she would love it.
banging my body into my body symmetrically and naked, talking hysteria.
diseased and gynecological closeups jumping off the digital/analog page,
as if in a row of equivalences.
constant crossings of the border beneath the bridge where the river
divided the nations and there was also the possibility of gangs, bullets,
and gold.
jodee pouring water in my ear, frantic laughter, tied up and no one cared.
lack of caring crashing the body against itself repeatedly as below.
as below, so above.
dental plans not offered at the maquiladora manufacturing wheelchairs.
the song of the little boys and little girls against the abstracted
backdrop of transformed feedback continents pulsing and en-tranced.
touching kathy acker wrong and furious at collapsing walls.
emily cheng leaning back tired and talking it was normal.
then of the colonias unbounded, electric dragged from the wires with
wires, water trucks churning through the mud, shortwave spy stations uno
uno tres quatro tres.
hating memories, baiting and breaking tapes into rearrangement tapes and
the extreme angle screaming for doctor doctor in sinecure display.
proc amp configurations, ntsc safety zones, colorbars and waveform
monitors, watching the splayed and self-loathed body repeatedly crash.
the crawl and scrawl of it.
the sprawl.


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