The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

February 7, 2009

Touching and Knowing

Julu Twine touches hirself in that special object-place and it resonates
across all of Second Life, Julu Twine is alone, alone, alone, and no one
will talk or help hir or rock hir to sleep in the endless cradle of that
soft and airless world. Touching and knowing, touching s/he knows -

Hi - I'm writing a generic letter, apologies; I want to find a publisher 
for my theoretical work, and everything continues to fall through. At one 
point Minnesota was going to work with us - us being Sandy Baldwin, who 
created a framework for my texts - and Sandy wasn't able to continue on 
the project (he's fully supportive; it was a question of time) - Minnesota 
withdrew. If you have any idea or better yet, the possibility of publica- 
tion, please let me know. I have a text out with Fort-Da but there's been 
no money for an ISBN number, so that's unadvertised; WVU might do 
something in the future with my texts on writing, if a series gets going, 
but that's speculative. The texts I've been writing have been on two main 
themes, and have been collected as such - one on the phenomenology of the 
analog and digital and their intertwining; and one on the phenomenology of 
the real/virtual and their intertwining. The latter uses Second Life as a 
model; the former is more purely theoretical. Neither need illustration.

I feel ridiculous sending out a public letter like this, but I'm at wit's 
end - my writing might not be worth collecting for that matter, and I have 
no academic affiliation, so it's difficult to get anyone interested. Any 
help would be greatly appreciated. Please write me backchannel or ignore 
this, and thanks for reading. (I know I write overmuch, but the mss have 
always been edited. Salt brought out a book of literary writing in 2004, 
and that was the last of it.)


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1 is for the scattered sky-debris

2 a second bargain running out from me
spewed in the air as far as eye can see

3 is for the shapes from me to unity
against the desert background and reality
they come it comes I come above the sea

and then a change as paralyzed I be
unmoving and unmoved no longer free
I'm on the ground and arms are in a T
locked and frozen staring uselessly

before I was transformed from he to she
within a sky-sphere rocking endlessly
I moved and flew and crashed against the key
embedded in the sphere that set me free
and threw me to the ground I could not see

6 is for the he before the she
or rather s/he trapped and spherically
held fast against from falling dangerously
already caught and bought I could not flee
instead accessorized another me of me
and rendered vertigo falling as a she

yet more adore among the rocks it's me
floating to myself effortlessly
within the duplication of a tree
a forest floating well above the sea
so dream with me beam up with flying me
there's nothing more to hear much less to see
but journey's end where flying sets us free

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