The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive


notes towards the series here


what else can i write, there's no order to chaos and chaos underpins or-
der, when, all the time, it's tawdry, sleazy, abject, makes you a loner
whatever they say

you log onto the site and sometimes you'll find you're not where you think
you are

then there's http://www.alansondheim.org/nitewalks.mp4

then there's an alien landscape, you're adjusting yourself (as avatar Julu
Twine)

trying to find your away around, what are these things

you think these might be prims/textures/objects half-grown

not yet downloaded from the cache, but that doesn't seem likely (there's
something else going on)

but the thing's full-grown, already formed, the cache filled quickly

so it's something else, it's a re-marking of what you've already created,
an unexpected display of inscription (in other words you inscribe, the
program reinscribes)

you can always right yourself (come to an even keel) - in the meantime
you're seeing the unexpected

metaphors dangle you into another geography (say an arctic wilderness
here) - you're too tired to focus, the cold seeps through your bones

http://www.alansondheim.org/nite1.jpg
http://www.alansondheim.org/nite2.jpg
http://www.alansondheim.org/nite3.jpg
http://www.alansondheim.org/nite4.jpg
http://www.alansondheim.org/nite5.jpg
http://www.alansondheim.org/ surge jpgs

these are just notes god i'm tired, i have to be tested for cfs, some-
thing's wrong somewhere, i shouldn't be so tired all the time, my head's
slumped towards my chest, i never figured second life for a burden, that
i'd be returning to it for so long, there's people who drop by, but
rarely, there's no community in the ruins, in the debris, it's like tall
buildings falling down, you're crawling out from somewhere into somewhere
and it's like the biggest thing of your life if you make it, and you won't
forget those beams and the way they lay not to mention the flats and sharp
edges, but no one else sees anything but a pile, and then the pile becomes
etched, all the interiors, in your memory forever, and there's no way out
of it, you're stuck there, other people are moving at high speed laughing
and crying, going places, to the movies or big communal events like
warcraft, and you're huddled back in deconstructive architecture and
you're documenting no one will ever meander in there with you, you turn a
corner and you're still by yourself, you turn another corner and another
corner, you want to return to the help-island and help the newcomers along
but you're looking to weird and where's you home-base anyway, where have
you set your home, but in debris like schizophrenia or 9/11 or some other
ship that got waylaid on the way to state


diff


http://www.alansondheim.org/ surge jpgs watch the tuning. what's wrong w
ith this picture. connect the dots. before and after. what what what.

6,9d5
< what else can i write, there's no order to chaos and chaos underpins o
< der, when, all the time, it's tawdry, sleazy, abject, makes you a lone
< whatever they say
< 
46,51c42,47
< i'd be returning to it for so long, there's people who drop by, but 
< rarely, there's no community in the ruins, in the debris, it's like ta
< buildings falling down, you're crawling out from somewhere into somewh
< and it's like the biggest thing of your life if you make it, and you w
< forget those beams and the way they lay not to mention the flats and s
< edges, but no one else sees anything but a pile, and then the pile bec
---
> i'd be returning to it for so long, there's people whodrop by, but rar
> there's no community in the ruins, in the debris, it's like tall build
> falling down, you're crawling out from somewhere into somewhere and it
> like the biggest thing of your life if you make it, and you won't forg
> those beams and the way they lay not to mention the flats and sharp ed
> but no one else sees anything but a pile, and then the pile becomes 
54,63c50,57
---
> and crying, going places, to the movies or big communal events like wa
> fracft, and you're huddled back in deconstructive architecture and you
> documenting no one will ever meander in there with you, you turn a cor
> and you're still by yourself, you turn another corner and another corn
> you want to return to the helpisland and help the newcomers along but 
> you're looking to weird and wheres you homebase anyway, where have you
> your home, but in debris like schizophrenia or 9/11 or some other ship
> that got waylid on the way to state

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