The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

October 9, 2009

Origin and Decay

Decay of origin, original decay, I can't think clearly anymore, just
produce vomit of the previously visible unseen.

One person wrote back about the tantric stuff, that's all. It might as
well died and reborn other generation deity somewhere safe, which it
isn't. My cds turn to ashes. Books remain disordered, unread. Films decay,
literally, at Filmmakers Coop, who have never given accounting. Someone
else wants the fucking Kathy Acker tape cause they want Kathy Acker. I
don't have her. Give me the money.

Start again.

Tired of decay surrounding same images day after day watching everyone I
know be successful with fast computers and health insurance and security
and knowledge of the greater artworld and I gnaw at myself until there's
nothing left but the bone and I don't get paid for that either and now
live on borrowing everywhere just to make a go of it. So send me your
cracked programs, your crack viles, your unused fuckups, your lastyear
computers, your surplus cash waiting for a good day to help someone
stressed, looking for bridge-cross breakdown, no hope avoidance, just
bypass with steam rising, or give me a fucking job amerika so I can focus
on my work for once think clearly theory and praxis and not the carcrash
mentality trying to stay alive, think, produce. Now I have to borrow
computers just to perform, mine are hopeless, my own work stutters to a
halt, how will I impress all the rich people surrounding me everywhere
even in this slaughter economics. I'll settle for the crack viles.

Fucked up writing just send me your crack viles.

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