Message-ID: <alpine.NEB.2.00.1309270122350.15339@panix3.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.wvu.edu>, Wryting-L <WRYTING-L@listserv.wvu.edu>
Subject: People and Sleeping
Date: Fri, 27 Sep 2013 01:23:21 -0400 (EDT)
People and Sleeping From Al Wilson I learned you have to tune your instruments carefully. From Vito Acconci I learned I wasn't an artist and to only look at masterpieces. From Laurie Anderson I learned I was an artist. From Clark Coolidge I learned that it was okay to go as far as possible, and then turn around and find out it's still safe. From I.A. Richards I learned I have talent. From Keith Waldrop I learned I was a real artist. Because I can't sleep, I count my breaths, read, write, shower, cry, masturbate, cuddle, type this, script, send email, imagine a great iron sphere, imagine four-dimensional projections, think about theory and aphorisms, take sleeping pills and melatonin, brush my hair. From Kathy Acker I learned never to take my chances with a hippy. From Dad I learned I was a wastrel and a nincompoop. From Jabes I learned the virtues of condensation. From Foofwa I learned the value of mastery and intense preparation. From Darcy Lange I learned the virtue of speed. From John Todd I learned how to write. From Azure Carter I learned most of all. From -- ----- I learned betrayal and I won't betray. From Gerald Jones I learned the American way of bad dying. Because I can't sleep, I've learned the value of lists, the necessity of half-truths, the art of being quiet. But people have taught me nothing and I am awake in the middle of the night. Next day: In the middle of the night I am a coward. In the middle of the night I rake over old stories, crash-land "on a constant basis." I woke and slept and woke and slept today. I lost and gained a career. Where are the shakuhachi's high notes? Nada, Azure, and I had an amazing Japanese dinner. I continue to pursue the recording with Azure's songs. Steve has the master for the instrumental. I write this useless paragraph as an epitaph to the one above, bringing narrative to a halt as I once again try to sleep in the nearby future.