The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive


bomb debris, coming through, public reading of the text

http://www.alansondheim.org/bombdebris.png
http://www.alansondheim.org/thru3.jpg
http://www.alansondheim.org/thru2.jpg
http://www.alansondheim.org/thru3.jpg

thru 1-3: 1 minute exposures / moving thru 2 a.m. darkspace
narrative tracks, what remains, camera picked up, set down,
pointed outward, pointed inward, walking, standing, there's
a door into the hall, nighttime hideout, hunkered down or
crawling, crawl space: this afternoon i napped for twelve
minutes and a lengthy cycle of dreams: in which i was talking
and explaining and in azure's parents' home in aurora,
colorado, the context forgotten now;

bombdebris: upsetting even with the knowledge of its making,
something about the ruin and the ruin of worlds and memory,
ruins of words and languages, proclamations, inscriptions,
ruins of cannons and howitzers, ruins of horses and soldiers;

"knowledge of its making" - "how it was altered" -
"how it was done" - "how it was transformed" -


public reading of the altered text reflecting public reading


moving through 2 a.m. darkspace narrative tracks, what remains,
and prescient, i pause, look up, i'm looking around at you, i'm
in control, i'm here and speaking, this is part of the text, the
altered text reflecting public reading, camera picked up, set
down, pointed outward, pointed inward, pause, and prescient, i
know what you're thinking, my voice trembles slightly, well,
somewhat, as if there's something untoward occurring, or
something untoward that occurred, at the scene of the image,
walking, standing, there's a door into the hall, wondering if
i've lost you, lost myself in you, wondering who is there or if
you're wondering, which hall, who is there in the hall, is it
empty, as if unfulfilled, is it replete with dreams and anxiety,
nighttime hideout, i'm sure of myself now, this hideout is
empty, only room for me, you understand, watching me, that this
might be a safe space, a bunker, that -u- sound, you-sound, you
sound, i'm looking down at the text again, hunkered down or
crawling, thinking something about haunches, looking up, looking
at you who are listening to me, watching me in this public space
as i speak, as i talking into it this crawl space, crawl space:
this afternoon i napped for twelve minutes and a lengthy cycle
of dreams, i've lost you, i was just getting going, it was
coming together for you, and suddenly i know what's ahead, a
sloppy narrative, hardly anything to write home about, but i'm
writing about home, about a home-space or habitus, writing to
you, reading to you, my voice lowered, trembling again, i've got
to keep control here,: in which i was talking and explaining and
now it's confusing, isn't it, getting confusing, talking to
whom, to you, i was talking to some people, it wasn't clear,
it's clear here, as i'm speaking before you, you seeming
confused, perturbed, i didn't mean for that to happen, i'm
hoping for true delight, something almost approach adulation in
your eyes, in azure's parents' home in aurora, colorado, the
context forgotten now and now i've lost you again but i'm once
more in control, the context remembered, private, none of your
concern, really, none of your business, something that has
nothing to do with you or even azure's parents or aurora,
colorado, you're wondering if you've heard of it one way or
another, maybe yes, maybe no,; bombdebris: upsetting even with
the knowledge of its making, i'm thinking why do i write so
stiffly, what's wrong with me, you know this, i can see it in
your eyes, you're thinking he's on about misery again, he's
eternally pessimistic, out of touch, something about the ruin
and the ruin of worlds, you're about to walk out, so much
despair, i don't know what to do about that, i have a realistic
view of the world, you've got to believe me, these things are
really happening, genocides, tortures, we're writing nonsense in
response, we're meaningless, please come back, there are fewer
of you know listening to this stuff, you think it's nonsense,
and memory, ruins of words and languages, proclamations,
inscriptions, wondering if you think that proclamations and
inscriptions - what a great phrase, latinate to be sure, might
be too formal, i don't know, you did look up at that, at least a
few of you did, so johnsonian now, ruins of cannons and
howitzers, ruins of horses and soldiers; you do realize i have
no idea what i'm talking about, i've never been to war, always
fearful, some empathy here, that's absurd, at least i'm almost
done, "knowledge of its making" - "how it was altered" - "how it
was done" - "how it was transformed" - thankyou, thankyou so
much for coming, let me know if you have any comments or
questions, would love to discuss the work with you, oh god hope
it was ok


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