Message-ID: <Pine.NEB.4.64.0909112007240.19651@panix3.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.aol.com>, Wryting-L <WRYTING-L@listserv.wvu.edu>
Subject: world best on a rainy day
Date: Fri, 11 Sep 2009 20:08:00 -0400 (EDT)
world best on a rainy day http://www.alansondheim.org/rainyday1.mp3 http://www.alansondheim.org/rainyday2.mp3 http://www.alansondheim.org/rainyday3.mp3 http://www.alansondheim.org/rainyday4.mp3 http://www.alansondheim.org/rainyday5.mp3 solo cura cumbus, electric saz, cobza changed tunings (cumbus and saz into tradition 5ths, cobza into d/g/b/e lowered a half step) on a rainy afternoon, as usual thinking about death and decay, i talk to azure who's reading lady chatterly's lover for the first and last time. i ask her about the book; there are no sex scenes in it or naughty words. it's a pre-trial expurgated copy, it turns out, but how is one supposed to know. i'm teaching wednesday and thursday at the school of visual arts and wonder how am i possibly going to present a schematic of magical practice out of a vaguely structural impulse coupled with ignorance and disbelief. on wednesday we discuss worker's conditions in early 19th-century england, and they're fairly similar, are they not, to the misery producing this very computer i'm typing on, and what is to be done, what ever is to be done. the rain pours down, winds howl, once again i am beset by my own death, fighting off the fury of depression by musical notes tumbling quickly, at times almost beyond comprehension, and for no reason at all. the cat sleeps in a tiny bed someone gave us, her thinking is replete with the presence of being here, things to do, projects to accomplish. she is now inhabited by dreams, they are living in her, like soul in fetish, guiding my fingers up and down the uncomfortable plateaus of fingerboards. the rain falls, hushing in its fall forever, so little time is left. today is nine-eleven and i don't feel sel- fish, my depression is a small secret gnawing at the cosmos. and today the oldest person in the world died in california, and i realized the oldest person in the world can never die. my father will live to one hundred and sixteen, i am haunted by his fetish, i burn the strings with him, it is useless, the world is beset by the world == current text file: http://www.alansondheim.org/qg.txt sondheim mail-text archive: http://sondheim.rupamsunyata.org/ webpage http://www.alansondheim.org sondheimat gmail.com, panix.com ==