Message-ID: <alpine.NEB.2.20.1608151842320.1107@panix3.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.wvu.edu>, Wryting-L <WRYTING-L@listserv.wvu.edu>
Subject: Structureless Jealousy and the Wall
Date: Mon, 15 Aug 2016 18:44:34 -0400 (EDT)
Structureless Jealousy and the Wall http://www.alansondheim.org/cath5.jpg http://www.alansondheim.org/cath1.jpg MY WORK is structureless or rather whatever structure emerges, is bootstrapped, from within, a tawdry system of ropes and pulleys, nothing without creaking. I envy people teaching in universities,* with access to equipment, digital and otherwise; these people are always already interactive, with students, with colleagues, fundamental assemblages with their own rules and protocols, their own commons and communities, their own safety- nets. They travel, they fly everywhere, they produce wonderful works, they win prizes, they collaborate, they interact on a daily basis, they're up-to-date, they _do_ virtual reality, they can _live_ virtual reality, infinite monies come their way, they have cutting-edge _equipment,_ they smile a lot, they create new dance forms, new virtual worlds, new mixed realities, they _live_ mixed realities, their are _neither here nor there,_ but they are _both here and there,_ they relax, they come together, they come apart, they coalesce, they publish lineages of books, they have author's shelves, they shine with the light of proper knowledge, they _serve_ the commons. I have I, and that _I, hateful, resonates like a wolf-note in my life, suffocates me, and this too is nothing new! Dostoevski's Notes from Underground suffocates me as well _in this precise manner,_ what else is there to do or _be,_ except someone who has _fallen down stairs to no avail_? And that someone is denied me as well, there are others who have _fallen down stairs,_ I'm sure, _to much avail._ Time passes. Tom Waits in the cafe, Tom waits in Brooklyn. That _I_ of mine is always misguided, I write theory, I _skip the small print,_ I'm senseless. If I killed myself, I'd be equally senseless, there's no sense in that; even death at this point (but not later!) is denied me! (No, this is not a rant.) Think of this, suppose I describe a theory that neutrinos are not only entangled, but they tangle themselves up with photons, which subsequently become fermions. This is nonsense of course, the whole thing is nonsense. But without community, communality, this becomes a _foundation_ of an equally nonsensical theory, and I continue in this fashion, endlessly speaking and writing to myself. You (me) might reply, of course there is feedback and discussion, there is always the net and its discursive formations, but this is different, this isn't slow and careful discussion, this isn't face-to-face, this isn't obdurate, this is fast-forward (Hegel's Phenomenology written and read in under twenty minutes), clever (Plato's Laws, ten minutes, a new record), useless; what I write here is already past and passed, dis-carded. It's the presence of bodies, projections, idle talk, discussions, alterity, the other and the Other and the Other's other and the other's Other, that makes all the difference, all the differance, that makes the _thoughtful._ And that's the source of my jealousy, this absence of the _thoughtful_ in the presence of a continuous strip, band, tape or Turing tape, of discourse: which collegiality slow or has the potential to slow - in relation to those manifolds of discourse which continue forever, which fold in on themselves, which have pretense to the far side of relativity, the grit and grid of quantum mechanics, the Indraic net-work, net-worth of speed, the access to caves and wearable holodecks, the electrical and crackling speed of brilliant discussions, always elsewhere, _elsewhere-ing,_ always _thus,_ you get the _idea._ * "teaching in universities" - working in dance companies, media residencies, k-12 schools, local and national governments, the medical professions, CERN, atomic waste management research groups, NASA, NOAA, Apple - of course Apple! - ** ** Of course I apply, everyone does! and I'd like to blame everything on age, but of course that's nonsense, everyone grows old and almost everyone continue producing unbelievable and outstanding works until the day of their (her or his own) death. *** *** And of course, I agree, my work _doesn't pass muster,_ I haven't a single doubt about this; it's below-quality, it can't compete (and yes! there's competition!), it's not made that well (for example I don't always use spell-check!), it's difficult! ... **** **** At least I have a point of view! ***** ***** Into a corner! I will sit in a corner! I will face the wall! I will face the Wall!