Message-ID: <alpine.NEB.2.21.1711301950550.4659@panix3.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.wvu.edu>, Wryting-L <WRYTING-L@listserv.wvu.edu>
Subject: 1940.
Date: Thu, 30 Nov 2017 19:52:19 -0500 (EST)
1940. http://www.alansondheim.org/194001.jpg http://www.alansondheim.org/194002.jpg http://www.alansondheim.org/194003.jpg http://www.alansondheim.org/194004.jpg http://www.alansondheim.org/194005.jpg http://www.alansondheim.org/194006.jpg http://www.alansondheim.org/194007.jpg http://www.alansondheim.org/194008.jpg http://www.alansondheim.org/194009.jpg http://www.alansondheim.org/194010.jpg http://www.alansondheim.org/194011.jpg http://www.alansondheim.org/194012.jpg literally everyone i know is going through extreme duress over the current regime. i've spoken with doctors, nutritionists, and psychologists as well; the talk about more patients, people unable to deal with the harsh realities of proto-fascism (my word). i retreat to the world of 1940 and stumble over memories not my own, already in world war, but something on the homefront that merits a momentary calm, the ground in the ground, the rock in the rock, the lake in the lake. this is not networking, not the furious and miserable broadcasts available every day on 1940 radio, 2017 media, the remaining relatively free channels groping through lies and violence in so many directions, the viewer or reader or listener is left reeling. now go through the rock in the lake, the lake in the ground, boundaries everywhere, friends drowning, acquaintances crushed. return now to the rock, the plant, the lake, the ground, return to anything that keeps you sane and functional. this is not electronic, this is what is there, what is that is, and pause for a moment. a page will never turn, a page will turn. we are all, here, distraught, and we claw our way through subversions of our own violence, lest me die before our time.