The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

April 25, 2009

"Hello. Miss Dixon. And the Sum Pngs."

"Is your mother going to marry that mister Wheeler." "My dad hasn't even
agreed to a divorce yet." "Come on Ann snap out of it. Let's have fun."
"It's good." "Thatta girl." "Why I didn't know you smoked." "Try a puff."
"Oh I don't think I ought to." "Oh come on snap out of this baby stuff."
"Don't let it throw you." "Smart girl." "I can see where we're going to
have some swell times together." "I kinda like him too." "Hiya there
Tommy." "Sorry pal I'm not going your way today." "Let me have the last
half of that Latin assignment." "I've been waiting for you." "That's nice
of you." sum pngs replacing some others more
tunings textures revolutions "This evening you will be my wife." "Am I
blushing." "This is about a traveling farmer." "A very hot number." "Does
that lad know his stuff!" "Oooh." "Do you know that boy Tracy." "Are you
kidding me." "Nobody could get that dumb." "You asked for it." "This party
must be getting rough." "All right ladies." "Sorry I didn't take you right
home." "No I'm glad it's lovely here." "Look." "Where." "There." "Tommy
you musn't." "Have one." "No honey look, like this." "Hey where are you."
"Tommy. Ann." "Women and children first." "Well come on." "Unfinished
business. You understand." "I fooled them." "No Tommy." "How about a
little walk." "Look at that moon." "I'd rather look at you." "I'm crazy
about you." "Really Tommy." "Kids never know what time it is." "Stop
worrying and come to bed." "Goodnight Tommy." "All gone." "I feel so funny
Tommy." "Do you honey." "Don't you feel kind of funny too baby." "You'd be
surprised." "Dearest I love you." "You can read it in my eyes." "What a
world of rapture lies." "Most of the gang's here." "Where's that guy with
his hand organ." "Watch your hips don't let them sag." "Gosh I sort of
like this joint." "Think about it darling. You picked the last one." "I
won't have any more after this one." "Look over there in the first booth.
The little brunette. What a dish." "Rather loose-leaf." "Ok brother. Don't
phone me from jail."

Death Accompanied by Double Dissipations

The matrix of the habitus corrodes almost from birth.
Nothing is left but memories which are necessarily filtered.
Filtered memories are cauterized.
The corrosion is absolute and complete.
The past is a state of permanent withdrawal.
People as well as environments disappear and most of either have
  a last time or moment deeply unrecognized: I don't remember when
  I saw him last; you can't see him again.
When did the war end, when did any war end?
These are the deaths of others within the aegis of my death, events
  are always on the horizon.

My death among the lives of others: dissipation of the habitus.
The collapsed habitus, fading out, expands. .
Trails begin without ending; these trails end for no one.
I am no longer around for the trails and their meanders, events are
  always on the horizon.

The trails are objects, processes, scents, sounds, sights.
My life connects them; they're blurred, communal among themselves.
It's always a masquerade, this communality.
A masquerade and a fantasm, always already dissolved and dissolute.
Isn't it like this, holarchic structures observed, created, recreated.
I have so much to tell here, and time runs out.
Worlds and words and levels and what remains, an invisible skein.
Structuring is destructuring, events are always on the horizon.

Goodbye to everything who know me, I release you, you release me,
  just as I release you, just as we are unknown among one another,
  unknown among ourselves, ourselves unknowing, events are always
  on the horizon.

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