the flooding and milking of liquid and liquid
http://www.alansondheim.org/flood.mov
http://www.alansondheim.org/flood2.mov
( but it's not the flood that meanders; it's the flood or storm that
spreads and spill, but not meanders; it's the pronoun that follows the
text below * )
( * and see below and http://www.alansondheim.org/flood3.mov
http://www.alansondheim.org/flood4b.mov ** )
sometimes work meanders; environments are unexpected, and analysis follows
suit. visual and theoretical paths meander, as if trajectories were always
second-order at the least: think of spatial acceleration. the speed of
thought moves nothing. everything proceeds as if an apologetics: this
isn't what I meant but isn't it interesting?
then there are the dreams, dream work, as if all screens were breasts, all
leaks, exhalations from the matrix.
the well PUMPED the oil, the man and woman PUMPED each other, the infant
desert was NOURISHED, the ocean and mind were MILKED.
* ** it's the following for example :: http://alansondheim.org/flood3.mov
where simultaneous sit/teleport commands construct an imaginary position
_elsewhere,_ in mid-air or mid-stream - a position viewed either from
avatar or independent camera - a position which answers to its own
transposed topography - breaking the simulacrum of the real - floating the
avatar 'about' deeply unrelated spaces - as if she were controlled there -
so one might ask - where is the mechanism here - the control mechanism -
since 'there' has none - and the original mechanism is elsewhere - out of
touch, out of reach - so here's a meander - an occurrence - something to
take advantage of - leading us out into, in fact, a dream state of sorts -
flying through unknown geographies - and then
the well PUMPED the oil, the man and woman PUMPED each other, the infant
desert was NOURISHED, the ocean and mind were MILKED -
as the next and final image, environment, process, procedure, operation,
installation, performance appeared -
http://www.alansondheim.org/flood4b.mov - perhaps the most 'original' of
all - certainly the most energized - the most possessing a philosophic
diegesis or trajectory - something to say, to be said - for the liquidity
of catastrophe - liquidity of permanent crisis - and its relation to
engendering, to the interior of the body, to the matrix, the breast, to
semen, to the womb, to the infant, to nourishment and nutrition, to the
phenomenology of the swollen, tumescent, distended - to fecundity,
engorgement and the soft flow of the eaten - to suffocation and the last
respiration, to death and the last sight of eyes slowly closing - never to
open again -
- think of the jagged-dance or puppet-marionette-dance, for that's what
happens, that's what's happening - whenever you're there - beneath the
sign of capital (I used to say) - _within_ the sign of capital - not the
here/ there of the Matrix, but effluvia, floundering about, flailing, for
and against our will - 'the soft flow of the eaten - to suffocation and
the last respiration' -
http://www.alansondheim.org/flood.mov
http://www.alansondheim.org/flood2.mov
http://www.alansondheim.org/flood3.mov
http://www.alansondheim.org/flood4b.mov
and 4b yes yes yes, the coming home of the catastrophic, the flooding, the
new world of oil and milk, the flooding and milking of liquid and liquid,
the flooding and milking of liquid and liquid
the flooding and milking of liquid and liquid
the flooding and milking of liquid and liquid
the flooding and milking of liquid and liquid
the flooding and milking of liquid and liquid
the flooding and milking of liquid and liquid
how we do not die
how we carry on
our children are our coding, broken and distorted
our bodies return to stars, having come from stars
it's a long trajectory our bodies take
our world continues in our wakes
our molecules scatter into winds and seas and marshes
our belongings disperse and carry us
our thoughts become our words become our works
our thoughts hide in corners of the world
corners open up and slowly reveal our presence
of others, there are many who are gone
of others, there are more who would be going
our memories collapse into forgotten origins
everything travels outward, onward, we are carried
we are already carried, so our words and sounds and seas
carry us beyond the sentencing of the sentence, we are
already someone else