Message-ID: <alpine.NEB.2.11.1503262307320.6450@panix5.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: netbehaviour@netbehaviour.org
Subject: poor little things
Date: Thu, 26 Mar 2015 23:11:29 -0400 (EDT)
poor little things http://www.alansondheim.org/poorlittle7.png http://www.alansondheim.org/poorthings.mp4 the making of poor little things http://www.alansondheim.org/poorthingsb.mp4 the drift of the narrative the slight raising of filter barriers, enough to let the poor thing _in_? and then, Pox on't, why do I speak of these poor things? and then, but a poor thing; ornamented, it sloughs into the symbolic. the mise en scene http://www.alansondheim.org/poorlittle1.png http://www.alansondheim.org/poorlittle2.png http://www.alansondheim.org/poorlittle3.png http://www.alansondheim.org/poorlittle4.png http://www.alansondheim.org/poorlittle5.png http://www.alansondheim.org/poorlittle6.png http://www.alansondheim.org/poorlittle8.png the poor little things when the shift from virtual virtual to virtual physical and all the poor little things happen and every little things is unhappy and these are the roles of depression when everything transforms into emptiness among things that should be replete and fecund and when everything that grows dissolves and leaves a sweet sticky taste of itself and all the little others in a soft tawdry trail dissolving in the tears of small whimperings and even though you know how this is created in the narrative and mise en scene and the making of the making of poor little things you can't help feeling sorry for them and for your lives and the anguish and suffering in our world that used to be so beautiful so wonderful that we would sing of it and celebrate it and walk softly in its shadows and now we are very very small and murmuring and our hearts our broken among the fabric of our world how ironic that virtual virtual objects turning into physical virtual objects begin to take on suffering and how unutterably sad that our lives are defined by the days of our births and days of our deaths and all of this is different among us and our loved ones and among our families and among others and how quickly conversations and deep discussions and disagreements end so sadly with the death of one and the death of another and how irrevocable the world is, the poor little things of the world and the poor little things we remember until we are forgotten and oh i sing of these things, threnody and ululuations, mourning and lamentations, and the greyness of the world in our last and fading shining hour