The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

on the crest or ridge of an enormous wave, during which the events of the
day loom exponentially, perhaps x^4 for example, the imminence of any
diurnal, already lost before a week or so - and in what name then history,
which integrates to the point of non-recognition? what happened thirty
years ago, I have small tales, few images, cannot assemble sample days or
nights; the remainder is all reconstruction, as it must be with crossed
ontologies, from object and word to neural circuit. talismans, fetishes,
ward against misinterpretation; these _are_ and _were_ and remain as such
as if their abject or reflective status guarantees a presence across what
can only be considered inconceivable loss. humans decry their minimal role
in the cosmos, but more minimal yet is our recuperation of untold events
among organisms, both spoken and unspoken, deaths of dinosaurs, children
wailing in the distance, the fall of a lepidodendron, anything one might
conceive. our slice, our crest, is the thinnest, thinner by far than the
fossil we hold in our hands, as if it were precious reminder, not
accidental residue; the fossil already participates in global economies of
collecting, completions, transportations, representations.

here though I think of the wave, the crest, the ridge, the fullness which
is greatest among all others, the fecundity of the crest, Leibniz and Thom
to a certain rescue, that is the rescue of all jostlings, emendations,
here they are. further down the stalk or sides, quantum tunnelings
continue and emissions, behave in contradiction to the distinctions above;
above, however, the world is infinitely clarified, it is _there_ at the
cusp or peak of roiling (singularities in differential calculus perhaps,
difference calculus perhaps upon closer inspection), that we model our
perceptions, our 'take,' our presence.


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