The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

December 24, 2009

Heruka death theater


Confined without a floor to stretch upon, or space splayed open
above or beyond, Heruka has to function among the old-fashioned,
does hir best, hir consort churned against the _production-machine_,
hir consort rub raw against _absorption-machine,_
hir consort meshed raw against _emission-machine,_
against _yidam-machine,_ against _yidam-machine_

Death Theater:

The stage is pitch-black. The audience is well-lit, floodlights every-
where. The performance is invisible. Occasional mumblings, cries, whisp-
ers, nothing understood. Sometimes a spotlight plays across the audience,
tentative or deliberate. But the stage, the stage is dark, is very dark,
is black. The stage seems black, seems invisible. Nothing can be seen on
stage. The audience is illuminated. Sometimes a light moves, quickly or
slowly, across the audience. The stage is coal- black, absent of color.
Voices are heard, urgent or languorous, screams perhaps, almost inaudible
snatches of song. Actors and actresses are invisible. At times, movements
are heard, perhaps scuffles. Nothing is visible on stage. The stage is
absolutely black, the audience brightly lit.
(turn down your volume for heruka2 - electric saz,
might 'splatter' otherwise)

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=== Hmmmm....

gala production of the theater of death
and the lie of buddhism

bodies grind against bodies, nothing is produced.
what could come of slaughter and yidam.
what could possibly come of this. no one wants it to come
of this.
no one wants it to come to this, it's flesh that's ground,
there's nothing more, tendrils of fat, skeins of muscle,
legarms flailing.
it's nothing, not even an image.
the image floats, there's only existence, whatever is:
no matter whether illusion or obdurate, inert: it's always
present. eyes grind against eyes, such that image turns ash.
ears grind against ears, crackling: no sound.
buddhism's a lie, existence is always relative, already path
to relative path, to relative thing after thing.
existence never promised anything more: what more than thing
after thing after thing. it goes there and always goes there.
believe what you want, ontology's meaningless outside of realms:
it's not non-existence, but ontology sliding into the imaginary.
what then? this sliding, for humans, appears uncanny, as if worlds
tremble; they don't, they don't do anything. get rid of existence:
you're gone. and gone from existence, ground from it.
existence grinds against existence, we're concerned about this.
but that confuses the thing with is: grinds nothing,
against nothing, no loss but what we've made of it: thing and
sound or sight of grinding.
these images show that, non-mandalas, no premise of a virtual
beyond the real, or beneath it, no promise of escape, error,
elsewhere, elsewhere. remember it's never as close as an eye
or ear, never within hearing or seeing. senseless, sensed,
it's what there is, the lie of buddhism is, that it isn't.

Hi Guys! Holiday Cheer Music!

I redid Heruka2, added a couple of others. Heruka0 is an absolutely stunn-
ing song which ranges over an octave; the leitmotif repeats throughout as
the melody resonates, bringing Holiday Cheer home to roost. Heruka1 looks
for, and finds, an amazing ground in a stately repetitive motif, developed
in the last three minutes. And Heruka0 presents an absolute epiphany of
quick and fluttering technique, all in the guise of a short, almost, one
might say, Webernesque, experiment. These Holiday Cheer pieces make fine
Holiday Backgrounds or Foregrounds for your enjoyment. I acknowledge my
mastery with the electric saz, and if you listen closely, you can hear the
hiss of radiators in the background. Enjoy!

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