The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

June 13, 2012

Looking Easier Than Reading

The physicality of the anomaly always asserts itself, even down the
hierarchy of protocol layers. Google is everywhere, tabulating these and
others; sometimes the real takes over when processing slows and crashes; I
had one such crash during the making of the image. But the obdurate is
there, among the remnants of sex, which are not there, and death, which
is: that is the only equation, and one that persists in existing until
life is eradicated. We can't place our bets because there will be no one
to collect. Many such images as these are on many such planets, however
ephemeral; even Mars has its markings. If a tree falls, it falls, and it's
gone, just as the sound is gone. These gasped at zero to forty miles an
hour and the next time the configuration will be different, as it already
is, fading, history is fading. The truth, Badiou, is that books don't live
forever, and Google's privacy is a sham. Anyone can burrow the database
from within; we all live in tunnels beneath the firewalls where there is
nothing done, nothing to be done. A friend of mine constantly takes notes
to use against people. Badiou takes notes to how how the world's held, but
the world's held up by philosophy in both senses of the phrase, just not
in the physical. It's on the way out. We're on the way out, we're already
"that class," as my grade school teacher said, implying we'd live forever
in infamy. She's dead now, everything in the world is different and
sattered, shattering. If you're born in the middle of it, you die in the
middle of it. We're just desperate to keep alive, we dream of sex and
fantasy, in the imaginary, die, in the real, and grovel in surplus in the
symbolic. These images are tombstone, graves, they're beneath the ground,
on the bridge they're struggling. I do philosophy this way because it's
easier to read.

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