Message-ID: <alpine.NEB.2.00.1204151115500.23726@panix3.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.wvu.edu>, Wryting-L <WRYTING-L@listserv.wvu.edu>
Subject: seven omaha videos
Date: Sun, 15 Apr 2012 11:18:38 -0400 (EDT)
seven omaha videos for Lee Murray, Barbara Simcoe, and Michael Szpakowski on the virtual, on intrusions, on signaling and communality http://www.alansondheim.org/pizzeria.mp4 Azure shimmies oddly http://www.alansondheim.org/singing.mp4 odder flute and voice in high wind while something exploded in the background, big emergency http://www.alansondheim.org/woodpecker.mp4 downy woodpecker perfectly poised preening, performing http://www.alansondheim.org/descentpain.mp4 i suppose descent of a tower from which singing and explosion were heard http://www.alansondheim.org/ethno.mp4 zoo ethnography of humans with syringes and field notebooks among animals and virtual backdrops, virtual freedom, virtual communality http://www.alansondheim.org/flagpain.mp4 fifty mile per hour wind and flag against sputtering sound from flag, sarangi, voice http://www.alansondheim.org/jellyfish.mp4 because of the untoward beauty, in spite of the aquarium, without sound, no mimickry There are small shifts in the everyday behavior of men and women, in the light, in reflections in the sky, in the slightest changes of pitch or echoes that appear to come from nowhere. magnified, the world suffers, organisms come to life, things totter, topple, what is - was, what was - is fast disappearing, what will be - has already corroded. zoo animals live - are kept alive; the jellyfish remains mobile, immobile; the flag might as well be a frond from sigillaria, leaf from neuropteris; flute and voice are already lost in the mythical darkness of wind and explosions; for a moment, Azure moves to the rhythm of the corporate and time unwinds; for a moment, this bird, this woodpecker, here, signals in a search for food; and for a moment, descent takes the body from the wind, and the hollowed rasp of metal stairs takes over. It is all already gone. It is all built on and from the everyday - look, you'll never guess what happened to me this morning, who could of thought something like that would occur in the middle of the night. We live among these tremblings, not long enough for the grand cycles to mean anything more than the flattened pages of history: we have to read the world in such a small amount of time, everything is lost, everything disappearing, where we were born is never bearing down, where we are headed is all too familiar, everything trembles, shudders, everything is otherwise...