The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

November 24, 2011

Happy Thanksgiving -  12:55 PM  -  Limited

wrote and lost everything, just an accounting in the midst of Happy 
Thanksgiving, working on mss, for WVU Press and Continuum, the FireMuseum 
record out soon, articles due on RMB city in Second Life and a performance 
in SL as well in January, working with Foofwa during the first week of 
January w/ collaboration with Mark Skwarek and Slava towards the end, then 
a 2nd performance with Monika Weiss Feb.2-4, and next week, the Window 
Gallery using crystal radios, guitar amp, the small models I made of 
distorted avatars and hopefully an accompanying video if I can quickly get 
the format right, no idea what that should really be. it feels emptied out 
with the deaths, flood, embezzlement, family split (which at this point I 
don't want to heal, just want to get over it). the Eyebeam scheduling was 
arcane and I hope it's actually fixed at this point so I can start working 
on various ideas here and there. I worry I'm a burden on everyone, like 
James Ellroy with his hushhush always going on in the background. i make 
short and simple videos here, still in Aurora Colorado, at least for 
myself; there aren't any comments at all for these. One of these, New York 
Woman, is a recap of an older audiotape, as embarrassing now as it was 
then, Reading Wilfred Owen, Ellens' The Destructive Power of Religion, 
Confederacy of Dunces, a book on cactus identification, a book on the 
Korean komungo, watching the news, keeping my mouth shut about the 
right-wing swirls of local tv. More and more I think that nature in fact 
really is red in tooth and claw, suffering and dissolution are the two 
positives of the world. I take walks and photographs around the nature 
preserve/reservoir and capture the encroaching mansions everywhere, 
devouring energy and any other resources they can find. Sometimes a hawk 
and new sparrows. The sky is steadfast blue, Around the world, there's no 
Thanksgiving and people are suffering. OWS lost almost all their library; 
books are trash in this world. I keep going back reading Dendy's 
Philosophy of Mystery and making calls, trying to connect to my friends, 
to keep them my friends in spite of all my faults. I stare into the dark. 
The dark doesn't stare back. In Pennsylvania, the house we grew up in is 
slowly collapsing. I inherit two antique guns and two antique swords. The 
world no longer needs them.

Like 2 seconds ago Collapse this post

The Mound Builders of Aurora, Colorado

nothing's under them. when in doubt, swell.
neither penis nor vagina will do. too ripe.
breasts hearken back to the old days.
the old days listen in the imperative mode.
stone hears stone. oh for swollen breasts.
the earth heaves. no, the earth was heaved.
nothing's under them. when in doubt, swell.

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