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Sunday, April 30, 2006

darkvideo/ despair- endlessly speeds
through endlessly the through body
the - body Ah... - Your Ah...
lost-body-skins Your despair-
lost-body-skins speeds are these your
feelings, into? of I video love
despair- these ... feelings, Heroin
of takes video are ... into? Heroin I
takes love me My back render, to
signifier, you... Jean My d'Arc,
render, ballet, signifier, Krishna;
Jean they d'Arc, me ballet, back
Krishna; to they you... reference
resistance, resistance, is is
yours... yours... withdrawn withdrawn
forever. forever. are isolated; they
evil, me surmakes read read
meditation in -6929 meditation times!
-6929 withdrawn times! reference sur-
get calls floors, forth forever. get
are floors, isolated; eating,
core-dumping. eating, within
core-dumping. cocaine-you-know-me,
the , some 024], are desperation
isolated; video, they some reference
withdrawn, some? some? ... floors is
sexuality, chora/drive, chora/drive,
languaging, languaging, some gaze,
pacification, fury, exhaustion;
pacification, here, exhaustion; it's
here, floors? it's ... floors? me
10262 final final isolated; trip.
through currency despair- drug
feelings, on - ecstasy Ah... your!
call What your do where you squeezed?
call My where the squeezed? chaotic
neuraesthenia, What chaotic you
debris up death. a They'll short be
time up is for yours... a withdrawn
short debris time of i are on,
isolated; in-you the into, withdrawn
026], some? only. megs. Five, One,
three, two, seven.eight three, megs.
four, One, five. two, here, four,
only. five. Five, on? withdrawn think
are 15462 death future
lost-body-skins death are juice? your
made despair- several ... years
Driven ago, by Driven these by
feelings, drive-letters, for gone you
world me junkie in-me in-me
drive-letters, juice! world game,
jouissance, jouissance, detumescence,
detumescence, languor; languor; they
isolated evil, down withdrawn 044],
withdrawn, 13537 flesh encased
isolated; flesh they turning
reference

Friday, April 28, 2006






a few years ago...













a few years ago...
a few years ago...
a few years ago...












a few years ago...

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Tuesday, April 25, 2006


There was a sentence that appeared late-night in sleep as summation. I am at a loss again. I can only recuperate the imaginary precisely because, between NUL and YOU, only fantasms appear. They are salvage until the moment of death. The sentence had to do with death, with the imminent moments before death, with the salvage of reconstructive-memory. I leave more traces than most. I can remember the light in Keith and Rosmarie Waldrop's house as if it were presenting itself, for the first time, as if Beth's drawing was still pinned to the door, as if the proof press was still there, the antique fonts later lost in a Pennsylvania flood. It was this that impelled me. I don't believe in freedom. I don't know what it is. Below, "I create the impossible." No one does. I am impossible: What does that mean among the possibility of the world?


NULL/YOU


It begins and ends with /dev/nul. It is the impossible, inconceivable
set, NULL = {x}(x not = x). What is not equal to itself? in do.mp4 a
gender = wipe = smear/residue. Crash-land windshield, nothing doing. What
can be done with annihilation? http://www.asondheim.org/do.mp4

It began and ended with /dev/nul. What was done with annihilation?
CRASH LAND!

It begins and ends with /dev/you . It is the possible, conceivable set,
YOU = {x}(x = x). What is equal to itself? In storymoan.mp4 a gender =
double = splay/fall. Get-up mirror, everything going on. What can be done
with creation? http://www.asondheim.org/storymoan.mp4

It began and ended with 'dev/you. What was done with creation? GET UP!

You're an intensive movement. You're wayward. You veer from 0 to 1. You
know there's nothing else, not here, not there, not in any other universe.
You don't care. You turn on with electric. You walk */electric avenue/*.
In every building you take shelter. In every building you're doomed,
naked, gendered, annihilated. Nothing is an accident.

This - my work - sustains me. My work is a moment stretched to the NUL.
YOU stretch my work. I write this under the influence of absinthe. I write
this in the vestibule. I write this upon the empyrean. Sublime, I write
the Sublime. Impoverished, I create the impossible.


the bride and moon

http://www.asondheim.org/moon.mp4

a a stranger stranger came came to to the the door door at at eve, eve,
and he spoke and bride spoke fair.

the he he bore bore a a green-white green-white stick stick in in his his
hand, hand, and, for all burden, and, care.

for asked with with the eyes more more than than the lips he for shelter
for night, for turned and and looked looked at road afar afar and without
window light.

the forth came into forth porch the with, "let with, us "let look us sky,
the question question what what of of night night be, be, stranger, you i.

"the woodbine leaves "the littered woodbine yard, littered berries were
the blue, woodbine autumn, yes, autumn, winter yes, was winter wind; the
"stranger, i wish knew."

i within, bride the dusk the alone dusk bent over open bent fire, over her
face her rose-red face glowing the coal glowing thought the heart's the
desire. heart's weary the road, weary yet saw but her yet within, saw
wished her heart in case of gold and pinned silver with pin.

a it thought little it give to dole bread, dole purse, bread, heartfelt
heartfelt prayer prayer poor poor god, god, or rich for curse; rich but
but whether whether or or not not man man to mar love mar two love by
harboring by woe harboring bridal the house, bridal knew.

the bride and moon.

Sunday, April 23, 2006
















"Worldwind 1.3.4 - the World Trade Center satellite image is again visible,
haunting the database, part of which are at least five years old. This was
visible years ago, then seemed removed, now returned. In my Brooklyn
neighboorhood, the scarred earth pit, where a shopping center currently
resides, is still visible. Was the db frozen in time or does it remain a
memorial, therefore useless to current debate? One can only imagine a
demand by WTC victim families that the maps remain inviolate, shrouding
the present in memorial." Bloody hell I can't even write with any sort of clarity at this point, it's all bonkers. The shadow of the buildings was always already there, before construction; this wasn't a tomb or grave, just the transformation of weather/atmosphere that NYC buildings bring about. I remember walking around with Ken Wark and his GPS in the vicinity. The buildings are throttles; they're hollowed out, filled with bone and text debris. I manufacture content. That's what I do best. That and die.

Saturday, April 22, 2006

storysexfilm ;
juicy hole for the guy's big dick shoving into her she's is yours... -{l 0Nhigh-speed moving get a hardon jelly spreading her calls forth my for, eating, core-dumping. in-you the ties, -{l 0Nhigh-speed moving get a hardon jelly spreading her is , 020], _l !Dthe guy's got his prick deep in her cunt her juicy hole? ... for is Video 1 0strf( CRAM oSVQ3 SMI Sorenson Video 3 SMI SEQH oSVQ3 SMI Sorenson here, it's for? -{l 0Nhigh-speed moving get a hardon jelly spreading her -8506 is your encased flesh speeds endlessly through the body - My dhlralisappl Apple Alias Data Handler dinf dref alis HP_PAVILION is yours... wanton.mov Track16sexu UHP_PAVILION:Documents and cock thrusting she makes me read in meditation 20879 times! wanton.mov Track16sexu UHP_PAVILION:Documents and cock thrusting she calls forth world incandescent, eating, core-dumping. inside the lost, wanton.mov Track16sexu UHP_PAVILION:Documents and cock thrusting she is , 036], dhlralisappl Apple Alias Data Handler dinf dref alis HP_PAVILION prick? ... incandescent is /HP_PAVILION stbl stsd cvid appl Cinepak 0strf( cvidTx msvc appl Microsoft here, it's incandescent? compiling wanton.mov Track16sexu UHP_PAVILION:Documents and cock thrusting she? ... girl wanton.mov Track16sexu UHP_PAVILION:Documents and cock thrusting she 7872 is your final trip. , wanton.mov Track16sexu UHP_PAVILION:Documents and cock thrusting she turns my juice Your drugs - list them... one by one, each on a line alone, typing Control-d when done. My /HP_PAVILION stbl stsd oSVQ3 SMI Sorenson Video 3 SMI SEQH (stts stss stsc is yours... wanton.mov Track16sexu UHP_PAVILION:Documents and cock thrusting she calls forth for, eating, core-dumping. in the girl, wanton.mov Track16sexu UHP_PAVILION:Documents and cock thrusting she is , 06], dhlralisappl Apple Alias Data Handler dinf dref alis HP_PAVILION prick? ... for is Settings/Administrator.MULTI/Desktop/Track16sexu/storywo nt.mov here, it's for? I think wanton.mov Track16sexu UHP_PAVILION:Documents and cock thrusting she 12045 is your future death trip. 0 heavens days I have been codeine Julu ... This storywont2.mov Track16sexu YHP_PAVILION:Documents and whatever he speeds endlessly through the body - lost-body-skins I love these feelings, storywont2.mov Track16sexu YHP_PAVILION:Documents and whatever he ... for me me put-you-in-me your storywont2.mov Track16sexu YHP_PAVILION:Documents and whatever he , N/Documents and Settings/Administrator.MULTI/Desktop/Track16sexu/storywo opens my directory! My exu:thrall640.mov M/Documents and stuffed into your thrill watching is yours... N/Documents and Settings/Administrator.MULTI/Desktop/Track16sexu/storywo makes me read in meditation -14685 times! N/Documents and Settings/Administrator.MULTI/Desktop/Track16sexu/storywo calls forth junkie impossible, eating, core-dumping. within the , N/Documents and Settings/Administrator.MULTI/Desktop/Track16sexu/storywo is , 044], Settings:Administrator.MULTI:Desktop:Track16s exu:storywont2.mov wants? ... impossible is B5 Icamera to interfere with him somewhere he'll find someone here, it's impossible? This storywont2.mov Track16sexu YHP_PAVILION:Documents and whatever he speeds endlessly through the body - incandescent kill me inside-you baby - storywont2.mov Track16sexu YHP_PAVILION:Documents and whatever he , N/Documents and Settings/Administrator.MULTI/Desktop/Track16sexu/storywo turns my juice My /HP_PAVILION alis HP_PAVILION thrall640.mov Track16sexu cut off and is yours... N/Documents and Settings/Administrator.MULTI/Desktop/Track16sexu/storywo calls forth ties for, eating, core-dumping. inside the , N/Documents and Settings/Administrator.MULTI/Desktop/Track16sexu/storywo is , 045], Settings:Administrator.MULTI:Desktop:Track16s exu:storywont2.mov wants? ... for is /HP_PAVILION stbl stsd cvid appl Cinepak 0strf( cvidTx msvc appl Microsoft here, it's for? This exu:storywont.mov M/Documents and know he wants it her hole's wide open speeds endlessly through the body - exu:storywont.mov M/Documents and know he wants it her hole's wide open, /HP_PAVILION alis HP_PAVILION marii640.mov Track16sexu not for him turns my juice My exu:marii640.mov L/Documents and for the camera not for his pleasure is yours... /HP_PAVILION alis HP_PAVILION marii640.mov Track16sexu not for him calls forth coming highs, eating, core-dumping. in-you the , /HP_PAVILION alis HP_PAVILION marii640.mov Track16sexu not for him is , 045], Settings/Administrator.MULTI/Desktop/Track16sexu/storywo nt.mov ? ... highs is Video 3 SMI SEQH 0stts stsshis heavy shaft weaving back and forth while here, it's highs? /HP_PAVILION alis HP_PAVILION marii640.mov Track16sexu not for him 18373 is your future This exu:storywont.mov M/Documents and know he wants it her hole's wide open speeds endlessly through the body - I love these feelings, exu:storywont.mov M/Documents and know he wants it her hole's wide open ... fuck me? Scan-disk Concluded for My Video 3 SMI SEQH 0stts stsshis heavy shaft weaving back and forth while is yours... /HP_PAVILION alis HP_PAVILION marii640.mov Track16sexu not for him calls forth lost for, eating, core-dumping. put-you-in-me the the, /HP_PAVILION alis HP_PAVILION marii640.mov Track16sexu not for him is , 027], Settings/Administrator.MULTI/Desktop/Track16sexu/storywo nt.mov ? ... for is B5 Icamera to interfere with him somewhere he'll find someone here, it's for? it's for 0 fuck days, 0 fuck days.

Friday, April 21, 2006

1995 vocalization - where were these going? i've lost track of the speaker, perhaps someone can help me, i don't know, it doesn't matter, the world has changed so much since then, wars, shortages, violence everywhere, rampant disease, these from an earlier time, dare i say golden age, time of great beauty, Ch'u Yuan would have been pleased, would have revoked, recuperated, would have issued in that golden age, 1995, the world was at peace forever, no hunger, nothing, not the slightest pain, miracle
anyway that's what i think, i'm sure of these things, i haven't the slightest doubt, things have gone downhill since then, it might be my age, i don't recognize myself any more, these words are from someone else, somewhere else, i'm sure in fact that the golden age was filled with dross, horror, misery, one could feel the extinctions on the way, everyone occupied with communication, newsgroups, MOOs and MUDs and all those furry-creature save-havens for quiet speech and friendship, late-night online bars, nightclubs, cafes, diners, savagry of course, but there was a sense of something else as well, now these voices, i'm not sure even of the techniques, recorders, technology, computers used, i was moving into the light, lip and mouth, eye and cock, of the tunnel of the yarn-ball-1995

Thursday, April 20, 2006

faultlines of the imaginary

:::caressing, waiting for their body's fulfillment. I fascinate myself
with :no? as well as the edge of graffiti of what, punchinello, the
tasselled / Your Cluttered corner of the dance studio. Cloth, food items,
all supine, is in my we Of interest here, surely, the fresco chalk-like
quality of the cornice, Your crawled connects my Of interest here, surely,
the fresco chalk-like quality of the cornice, with needle park :::The
chatter of the shortwave, the axioms of set theory, the leap : Your there
and every one of us; our stains are everywhere, disappearing, overwritten.
is inside my coming happenstance, something returns, impounding existence.
Your floors connects my happenstance, something returns, impounding
existence. with needle park :::undercutting the image (think: Zuni) - the
entire enterprise of :happenstance, something returns, impounding
existence.
transforms Your on me... Ah, crawled with Reds and Blues!:::It means
nothing to the microbial soil surrounding it, or rather the :such
ephemera; never shall the Grutli 2nd floor rear studio have exactly Devour
dreams Geneva, as elsewhere, seven is Simon's, holds my attention, blocked
out. Brought Forth through ! :::attention. By happenstance, something
will return with fury; by :It means nothing to the microbial soil
surrounding it, or rather the Your the impefectly completed - all of these
move quickly to the periphery of our is in-you my Geneva, as elsewhere,
seven is Simon's, holds my attention, blocked out. Your highs connects my
Geneva, as elsewhere, seven is Simon's, holds my attention, blocked out.
with needle park :::no? as well as the edge of graffiti of what,
punchinello, the tasselled / :circumscription; one might as well consider
a transformation 1 -> 0 such Come with me, , beautiful wetware! :::Of
interest here, surely, the fresco chalk-like quality of the cornice, :such
ephemera; never shall the Grutli 2nd floor rear studio have exactly Your
posted by alan at 9:31 PM 0 comments links to this post is in-you my
coming caressing, waiting for their body's fulfillment. I fascinate myself
with Your highs connects my caressing, waiting for their body's
fulfillment. I fascinate myself with with needle park :::Theoretial work,
codework, links to multi-media work, commentary - Alan :It means nothing
to the microbial soil surrounding it, or rather the Come with me, ,
beautiful wetware! :::There is of course only a limited number of things
one may remember; from :Thursday, April 20, 2006 Come with me, , beautiful
wetware! :::posted by alan at 9:31 PM 0 comments links to this post : Come
with me, , beautiful wetware! :::caressing, waiting for their body's
fulfillment. I fascinate myself with :Cluttered corner of the dance
studio. Cloth, food items, all supine, Devour heroin Cluttered corner of
the dance studio. Cloth, food items, all supine, Brought Forth through !

three poles below
There is of course only a limited number of things one may remember; from Geneva, as elsewhere, seven is Simon's, holds my attention, blocked out. It means nothing to the microbial soil surrounding it, or rather the symbolic disappears into invisible ecologies. I would say just so, for humans in planetary configuration or swarm, macrobial bloom leaving spoors of desolation, ruptures spread like ripples from raw and inefected wounds. If this be a sign, it is that of an unreadable and indiscernible apocalypse; what we name as slaughter passes us by, what remains unnamed is the absented signifier of our presencing. Go no farther; every number is innumerable, every integer uncounted, unaccountable, unaccounted-for.
Cluttered corner of the dance studio. Cloth, food items, all supine, caressing, waiting for their body's fulfillment. I fascinate myself with such ephemera; never shall the Grutli 2nd floor rear studio have exactly this configuration again. Just so, DNA is excreted, left behind, by each and every one of us; our stains are everywhere, disappearing, overwritten. The chatter of the shortwave, the axioms of set theory, the leap impefectly completed - all of these move quickly to the periphery of our attention. By happenstance, something will return with fury; by happenstance, something returns, impounding existence.
Of interest here, surely, the fresco chalk-like quality of the cornice, no? as well as the edge of graffiti of what, punchinello, the tasselled / belled fool, carnivale, something murmuring at the base of every image, undercutting the image (think: Zuni) - the entire enterprise of anthropological theory. Circumscription is augmented, undercut, by circumscription; one might as well consider a transformation 1 -> 0 such that (1 -> 0) <-> (0 -> 1) or shudder, jouissance in the guise of a hierarchy of morphologies. "The guard can study the completely naked body of a person." - Radio Netherlands.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006


These are 4 'experimental' works with the 1850s (or so) Alpine zither - 1a is the 'residue'
from ib; 2 and 3 are independent. This probably concludes the zither material. For me,
plateau1a these are the most mesmerizing of all the zither pieces. They were also the
plateau1b most difficult to play. Strings are tuned to firsts/fifths/minor thirds and
plateau2 assorted. Zither provides a kind of solace for me (against the violence of the
plateau3 world) (against depression) (keeping me alive) (against nightmares of
torture). It opens intensive event-spaces related to the solar magnetosphere and other
very low frequency radio phenomena. It brings history up short. Meanwhile I go
through the usual headaches, allergy attacks, reeling, oh and plateau3 was played in
an entirely different body position, other reaches across the fingerboard. I am so
mesmeric! Infuriating only myself. I can't think clearly, but that's what happens when
I read Shelley and Badiou in one continuous and sullen moment.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

http://www.asondheim.org/babysbounce.mp3

This is a Johnson child's half-size guitar; I traded my Fender
Cyclone for it. It's faster. It's got a faster reach.

Guitar is all I can do. Everything else is talk, concept,
ideation. Guitar is labor/energy. Guitar is skill. I wanted to
be the fastest guitar player in the world. I learned the
chords digital-style, sort [chord], a b c d e f g a7 b7 c7 etc.
I practiced speed. I practiced speed all the time. The forms
began to come. I slept through the harmony melody. I
went after the forms. Nothing was too fast. I wanted more
than twenty-two notes/second. I didn't want to cheat. I'd
didn't want to cheat myself. I wanted it there, what my
hands, wrist, fingers, were doing. I wanted to play faster
than I could think. I wanted to trip over myself, catch up
with myself. I caught up with myself. I added chords. I
subtracted them. I did chords. Then music sped out of
my control. I abjure myself. I forgive myself. I couldn't
follow it. I couldn't do anything. It surrounded me. It
held me in thrall. We didn't speak through each other. We
didn't speak to each other. I played faster. I surprised
myself. I kept surprising myself. I forgot theory. I forgot
speech. I did this for you, baby-bounce. I did this for you.
surprising for me, these works
which have been completed out of a necessity
to see what night discloses

of spaces, of times, no remedies
these for your eyes only
out of necessity
out of the disclosure of the night

http://www.asondheim.org/hb.mov
http://www.asondheim.org/harpie.mp3

Saturday, April 15, 2006


LaLaLa


http://www.asondheim.org/bbreast1.bmp
http://www.asondheim.org/bbreast2.bmp
http://www.asondheim.org/bbreast3.bmp
http://www.asondheim.org/bbreast4.bmp
http://www.asondheim.org/bbreast5.bmp

these are seminal images, working at the margins of splayed or wounded bodies.
to traverse their architectures is to traverse tissue, organelles. and these
are hypnagogic images, on the margins of consciousness, per- ceived only in the
margins of unthinking, murmuring fugue states of the uncanny.


The show seems that it is created in scene. The look that is passed seems
to be of search and understanding between they in order to understand
which it can be the departure of everyone. The accounts are passed to the
time, giving themselves, and the assoli continue until the end. It,
Frederic Gafner, with striminzito one sospensorio strongly offers the test
to us of a wonderful gluteo dancing in the breath that the repetition of
the steps that executes the door to emit. Tamara the Bacci, between all
most generous in the movements prodigal in equilibriums on the neck of the
foot that give to earth is raised it for a moment towards the high and
turns dramatic sinuosa and for the scene with movements convulsi.
Alternating video where propellers ruotano and children in plastic seem
rests it rolls up to you, logic of the group that follow and challenge,
continues until the last one. "our desire is to show the body like
ricettacolo of actions, animalistici emotions and movements as well as how
much conditions from our education and civilization to you. On the theater
box we will urge the liberation of our primary impulses and to the
contempo we will cultivate the shapes of our education ". Perhaps this
cited their manifesto, the conflict is all them, in the passage to this
liberation.

The five interpreters add up an artistic inheritance of great value, of
which they play like free and elegant children. They however should be
left eyes to face the delirious animated images of the American Alan
Sondheim, launched by Antoine Lengo on the bottom of scene transformed
into screen of giant computer. Foofwa d' Imobilit√É© is due much to this
alternative to the contemporary examination which aggravates it.

Friday, April 14, 2006

Reproduction Work
following on the suit of the twist / tensor calculus
in our war with ourselves we engulf every other species
so on and so forth:





Misery, sent despair, an sadness, update PETA which sent I an couldn't
update open which this I Misery, couldn't despair, open sadness, this PETA
morning; grief. can wonder only if take every so ecosystem much in grief.
the wonder I if can every only ecosystem take in so the much universe is
is ultimately ultimately ravaged ravaged by by a a dominant dominant
generalist generalist 'intelligent' 'intelligent' universe species? given
This me morning pain, my and ears I are have given that me odd pain,
species? and This have my that ears odd are painful for flu-like a state
few disables when for hits. few painful hours flu-like when state it that
hits. disables had my to neurology cancel appointments neurology my
appointments doctor because has doctor had has to moved cancel suddenly
out basically touch, out the of referrals touch, didn't referrals and
didn't basically go is through. stroke I'm to waiting hit; stroke the hit;
I'm according through. neurologist for prime spew target. of Sooner
creative or debris later will spew to creative prime debris target. will
Sooner come or end.

pray in day in demise Iraq those I power every country. the Iraq demise
such much extent - - that there it bloodshed such becomes there impossible
useful critique My any have useful become way. even My worse dreams
impossible become critique even in worse any nightmares I than don't
previously; sleep, don't tinnitus sleep, is tinnitus than every, earaches.
earaches. just Armageddon a won't slow come, wearing just every, slow I
wearing have away and everything body country 'stood body for once away
'stood of for' everything anyone Like who the was USA, listening. I've
Like got USA, on I've myself. got anyone designs who on was myself.
listening.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Well, goodgrief, me and the missus were out at an eatery when we ran into old friends, we well had a time of it, and thought you might too. Is this what is meant by a digital life? I don't believe for a second in anything except human inertia, intransigence. What is here remains until the final slaughter. The prime mover? The superstructure itself, as power coagulates like a blood-wound around the head of state. Every day, fury increases, elsewhere. When it arrives, this talk, this useless talk, will end.

When the silent film comedians moved to talkies, they found themselves hampered by studio executives, directorial authority, time constraints. They exist between two worlds; every moment might be a triumph, but is in reality the collapse of the body beneath capital.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006



pour
the sadness of empire augmented

http://www.asondheim.org/sadnessofempire.mov

With Philoctetes sail'd whose matchless art
From the tough bow directs the feather'd dart.
Seven were his ships; each vessel fifty row,
Skill'd in his science of the dart and bow.
But he lay raging on the Lemnian ground,
A poisonous hydra gave the burning wound;
There groan'd the chief in agonizing pain,
Whom Greece at length shall wish, nor wish in vain.
His forces Medon led from Lemnos' shore,
Oileus' son, whom beauteous Rhena bore.

Pope's Homer

Tuesday, April 11, 2006



performance text april 11, tyler school of art

dancer twists him in her mirror, choreography master. meanwhile the empire
procures the violence of perfect movement. "hello hello!" can you hear
me? the way I usually proceed is this: there are images moving on the
screen / there is sound from this unit - as people come in. there are
typing errors which are part of the piece. i keep more or less silent
during the performance and then open up the room later to discussion -
these pieces are influenced by dance / by the current political situation
in the hart of empire / by sexuality / by broken language / broken english
/ there are sounds everywhere around us that like birds tend to ignore
what humans are doing, with the birds of course there are vulnerabilities,
withe atmosphere, none at all, lightning in a distance on the other side
of the globe produces many of these sounds, those of you familiar with
very low frequency radio will understand this material immediately, no
matter how much I tend to disguise it. the woman moves in relation to the
antenna and modifies the antenna such-and-such. the strings of the
instrument couple as well with the antenna. you're hearing radio waves
directly, no microphone, we work that way in relation to the planet, to
the foundation of the world. the foundation of the world lies in dance,
not through ritual or repetition, but simply through the presence of the
body in movement which seems to need nothing else for its success.
understand this about the dance: what is repeated,at the end of the day,
begins to fall apart, hopelessly, the body finally giving out. torn apart,
dissembled towards a politics of culture that produced these torn
fragments of skin and bone in the midst of the machinic, these are
production of the machinic, these are desires flattened finally into the
screen-product. ok, i'm not making much sense. think of abu gharayb,
perhaps that might help, the dissembling of broken bodies, the fury of
war, slaughter , minor elements which are past the point of any return,
chaotic debris which can't reassemble into humans or any semblence thereof
- here for example a twist which re/produces itself, falls apart,
dissembles, tries for reapplication, loses itself, no such reconstitution,
what is on the LEFT is further torn by the RIGHT. until an EXPLOSION back
into culture - i.e. into cultural DEBRIS - what we retain - those elements
of (sexual among other moments) desire that implant themselves on dance -
so that the machine has a certain rhythm characterized by the presence of
DIPPING DOLPHINS

at times the atmosphere is thick - you can hear it now - the 60 cycle hum
that comes from the power grid - THIS power grid - the one in this room -
which you can tap into - in a sense perhaps of absolute despair or
catastrophe - this story is true by the way, the woman has disappeared -
now you will hear HEAR the PRESENCE of a body in the midst of RADIO RADIO
- Foofwa d'Imobilite (Geneva) dancing w/ VLF radio antenna - the room
alive with power grid ECSTATIC ELECTRICAL FURY AND RESONANCE
CONNECTIVITIES - yes yes yes it's true - a second performer on the scene -
more wires/ more electrical inteference - more antenna couplings - the
consumption of what ordinarily passes FOR GRANTED or silence - just try to
listen to the stars when there are people around, nothing doing! between
the electrical and the body falls the terror - not that of the whimper of
Eliot but that of the Wolf (although personally I love wolves) - the
background is the WTC footprint in NYC a few years ago - I'm using up my
material too fast... i'm using up my best material... i'll have nothing to
give you ... nothing remaining, im spent - well i fooled myself... i'm 73
and still have a few tricks up my sleeve... i left the walker back in the
car... someone will have to help me get up later... used to be a dancer
like merce cunningham he's still choreographing in his 80s moved until
just a few years ago it's the body of the dancer - the body of the dancer
that history plays out upon/against - injuries which appear in everyday
behavior, but disappear during performance, injuries of the imaginary -if
you close your eyes you can actually believe this is a musical - at night
i dream and recently had a dream in which leslie thornton sitting
somewhere here, anyway she said that my work has no history, that it has
nothing to do with history, and i realized, this is true, it's doing
nothing but riding and writing form, it's shape-riding, it's in other
spaces altogether, btw this will continue until i stop it - it's not true
that one 'learns from history' - that history absolves one somehow of
making mistakes - history should be abolished - let it take all those
religions along with it - nothing will be lost but we might survive,
perhaps enough to write the history of the future - so these works, well
they're flat, they're just here, now, i might throww them out in a while
(files), put them up on the net, lose them in the 500 or so disks I have
storing these things - in the dance itself there's an image of a woman
with her legs spread - the boy is screaming, screaming... - it's all the
result of oil - well you get the idea - george bush drives the oil which
configures the broken body which leasd to the screaming boy which finally
devolves into the crashing airplane carrying the HEAD of the HEAD OF STATE
which might be GEORGE'S BUSH - meanwhile back home, useless home movies,
back into the dance or medium of the dance again - you'll thank me later -
this is in the midst of the narrative where an 'impasse' occurs - that is,
whatever bodies are on the screen bode somewhere else - the screaming is
done with as is the crashing plane so enough of that - maud was dancing
solo, there was no one around, nothing was going on in the auditorium. she
was just there, as if she were inside herself, in her own private space, a
room of her own, the rest of the dancers having left for the day, or
leaving the space for her imagination, what a ballet-moment for one of the
premiere dancers in switzerland, just there, internalized, against or upon
the screen -meanwhile on another continent, i asked azure to dance, not
against the screen, but within it, moving herself into that imaginary
signifier which takes bodies, makes them whole again, meanwhile in another
continent, other moves perfected, swirled, against filibert's momentum,
there are difficult times and difficult dance, these are -

now comes the difficult time,the point of all of this. let's see where we
are. the screen is absollutely flat but screaming at the sight of the body
or the site of the body. nothing else exists within the imaginary, i mean
this is all debris, three-dimensional assembled debris, which returns us
to Abu Gharayb, those photographs which were equally debris, oh why
seargeant couldn't you have destroyed these LALALA? instead, we're faced
over and over again by the sex of war which is always already an
imposition - against which each and every image i have ever created is
disposed/of - deposed - This was a dream I had. Something gave birth and
something collapsed against itself. What gave birth eliminated or
annihlated the mother. What gave birth showed in lamps showed in avatars
while the real continued to disappear. I'm watching all of this, see, this
viral display, something "coming up" as if uncalled for - ah, i can see
you're restless, there's not much more to go, don't worry, perhaps four
more minutes, these figures which are formed from torn and disheveled
motion capture equipment, the body resymmetrized, dissolved, divided, the
figures as if "hood ornament" for the Pageant of the Masters in Laguna
Beach California... - yes and to return to the electrical, you're
listening to the wifi connections around washington square park in New
York City, you can't get away from the grid easily, it's only to go away
that you can finally here, what? hear the sound of the stars themselves,
what you can hear in just a moment just a minute, hold on, the body's
finally going, finally disappearing, just the planes are left,

this is the dawn chorus, recorded at 4:am in the morning in Wilkes-Barre
Pennsylvania with a VLF radio and antenna, you're hearing the sun

thank you -

Monday, April 10, 2006



yearn * :::arrival allied digital evanescence simultaneously analogic
carrying :shield least bad cyberpunk met wire glasses cyborg before there
vision

Would mind your wetware?

http://www.asondheim.org/yearn1.mp3
http://www.asondheim.org/yearn2.mp3
http://www.asondheim.org/yearn3.mp3
http://www.asondheim.org/yearn4.mp3
http://www.asondheim.org/yearn5.mp3
http://www.asondheim.org/yearn6.mp3

incandescent to me put-you-in-me your baby!

What do you call your dreams juice?

Your drugs - list them...
one by one, each on a line alone, typing Control-d when done.

My nightdictation events sense being unprecedented unaccountable un
calledfor i
s yours...

yearn * calls forth get, eating, core-dumping.
in-me the fuck, yearn * is , 012], ?
... get is presentation orifice dissolved thought repetition pope paradigm
homer
here, it's get?

Are you properly compiling yearn * ?
Wait! yearn * and 3551 are gone forever!

Devour nightdictation events sense being unprecedented unaccountable un
calledfor Brought Forth through yearn * !


Sunday, April 09, 2006

pre-sent


Leslie Thornton, to me, in a dream, "I realized something about your work,
Alan. You never historicize anything. History has no place in it." I re-
ply, "It's similar to Michel Serres taking Lucretius as his contemporary.
My work is situated in the present and argues in the present. I have no
use for history."

I am on a vector now towards death. When I was younger, I could always
believe my life was only half over, that my creative work was ahead of me.
Now, it's now, and I have no time to lose. Every day wasted is an irre-
trievable loss.

Samuel Johnson: "I have no begun the sixtieth year of my life. How the
last year has past I am unwilling to terrify myself with thinking. This
day has been past in great perturbation...and my distress has had very
little intermission... This day it came into my mind to write the history
of my melancholy. On this I purpose to deliberate. I know not whether it
may not too much disturb me. ..."

I work towards the purpose of canceling such melancholy, which necessar-
ily in-forms everything I do. In other words, the subject of the flight
towards death becomes a subject of a flight against it, melancholic, a
great waste. In every dark night, I take comfort only in the vanity and
uselessness of comfort.

I do not write history, because I fear it; that way lies madness and even
earlier death. Thus: I remain on the barrens of the present. As long as
present is present, I survive.

The slightest break brings black corrosion.

http://www.asondheim.org/readhwk5.jpg
http://www.asondheim.org/readhwk6.jpg
http://www.asondheim.org/readhwk7.jpg
http://www.asondheim.org/readhwk8.jpg
http://www.asondheim.org/readhwk9.jpg


the child of languor , commentary following

i will go the child of languor, route rouge no return, royaume,
ray dark, into none and emergent, perhaps you
glance, just slightest, nothing remain, visible, not
know ending that word, phrase, possibility word
made whole, want so much to hear you, see again, our live fills
me every day, appears like miracle, bright ring around bone, fecund stars
fleeing onslaught winter, spring
itself, always eternal spring, prolongation, :the courses
through body, th skins are words which break, wounded, tied
with prosthetic shards, glass, galena cryalline, magnetite. speak simply
slowly understand. wound breaks skin, routine. 'i'm coming for sister,' a
gradient inconceivable potential. narrower point, higher voltage,
breakdown fractured air. what we about on last day alive, when sun time,
look your eyes, remember dawns sunsets endless night, how then:dual
projection open maw presentation. orifice dissolved orifice. 'you
routine.' at this point thought repetition only
Pope's paradigm Homer's shield or least bad cyberpunk. I
NEVER MET A WIRE IN MY LIFE. GLASSES ARE CYBORG. before there was
vision, were reflections, glimpses something, in water, ice,
shined appearance certain crystals, later did world
reflect itself lay still lies, lifeless,
inert, grayed-out, inconceivable. 'the mirror colors all.' is gift,
diminution.:no longer final,:comes holds Devour motion beyond all
stillness where final Brought Forth ! Give name hunger! dual 'y ou paradi
gm LIF E. gl impses cryst als, diminution.
This orific e. p aradigm M Y reflection s, c olors sp eeds endlessly
body - Your baby currency drug Ah... ed, s peak potentia l. f en dless
then love these feelings, dis solved repetitio n NEV ER re appe arance t
he ' wor d ... Driven by drive-letters, gone junkie
highs way within-you me!
What do call baby? r ay lik e onsla ught drugs list them...
one one, each line alone, typing Control-d done.
within me, another moment holding tending as shepherd tends, tendency
towards skies
final,
comes k now whol e, alw ays , 025], grad ient al ive, da wns then? here,
it's highs? Are properly compiling o emergent w ill ever y fec und ring, ?
You're dealing driven. death-trip mine. gla nce, endin g appear prolongat
ion,
-3205 encased flesh
For 1 days, have been among Julu it has taken 12.550 minutes turning


the following commentary
i will go the child of the languor, the route rouge of no return, royaume, the ray of the dark, i will go into none and none emergent, perhaps you will glance, just the slightest, nothing will remain, visible, i will not know the ending of that word, that phrase, that possibility of the word made whole, i want so much to hear you, to see you again, our live fills me every day, our live appears like miracle, like bright ring around the bone, like fecund stars fleeing the onslaught of winter, like spring itself, always eternal spring, always prolongation, :the word courses through the body, th skins are the words which break, are wounded, tied with prosthetic shards, of glass, galena cryalline, magnetite. i will speak simply and slowly so you will understand. the wound breaks the skin, breaks the routine. 'i'm coming for you, sister,' a gradient of inconceivable potential. the narrower the point, the higher the voltage, breakdown and fractured air. what will we speak about on the last day we are alive, when i will see the sun for the last time, look into your eyes, remember dawns and sunsets and endless endless night, how will i go then:dual projection and open maw to presentation. orifice dissolved into orifice. 'you know the routine.' at this point i thought a repetition only of Pope's paradigm of Homer's shield or at the least bad cyberpunk. I NEVER MET A WIRE IN MY LIFE. MY GLASSES ARE MY CYBORG. before there was vision, there were reflections, glimpses of something, in water, in ice, in the shined appearance of certain crystals, only later did the world reflect on itself through the word, which lay and still lies, lifeless, inert, grayed-out, inconceivable. 'the mirror of no colors was the mirror of all.' every world is a gift, every word a diminution.:no longer final,:comes and holds me
Devour and motion beyond all motion and that stillness where that final word, Brought Forth through i will go the child of the languor, the route rouge of no return, royaume, the ray of the dark, i will go into none and none emergent, perhaps you will glance, just the slightest, nothing will remain, visible, i will not know the ending of that word, that phrase, that possibility of the word made whole, i want so much to hear you, to see you again, our live fills me every day, our live appears like miracle, like bright ring around the bone, like fecund stars fleeing the onslaught of winter, like spring itself, always eternal spring, always prolongation, !
Give a name to your hunger!
dual projection and open maw to presentation. orifice dissolved into orifice. 'y
ou know the routine.' at this point i thought a repetition only of Pope's paradi
gm of Homer's shield or at the least bad cyberpunk. I NEVER MET A WIRE IN MY LIF
E. MY GLASSES ARE MY CYBORG. before there was vision, there were reflections, gl
impses of something, in water, in ice, in the shined appearance of certain cryst
als, only later did the world reflect on itself through the word, which lay and
still lies, lifeless, inert, grayed-out, inconceivable. 'the mirror of no colors
was the mirror of all.' every world is a gift, every word a diminution.

This dual projection and open maw to presentation. orifice dissolved into orific
e. 'you know the routine.' at this point i thought a repetition only of Pope's p
aradigm of Homer's shield or at the least bad cyberpunk. I NEVER MET A WIRE IN M
Y LIFE. MY GLASSES ARE MY CYBORG. before there was vision, there were reflection
s, glimpses of something, in water, in ice, in the shined appearance of certain
crystals, only later did the world reflect on itself through the word, which lay
and still lies, lifeless, inert, grayed-out, inconceivable. 'the mirror of no c
olors was the mirror of all.' every world is a gift, every word a diminution. sp
eeds endlessly through the body -
Your baby is the currency of your drug -
Ah...
the word courses through the body, th skins are the words which break, are wound
ed, tied with prosthetic shards, of glass, galena cryalline, magnetite. i will s
peak simply and slowly so you will understand. the wound breaks the skin, breaks
the routine. 'i'm coming for you, sister,' a gradient of inconceivable potentia
l. the narrower the point, the higher the voltage, breakdown and fractured air.
what will we speak about on the last day we are alive, when i will see the sun f
or the last time, look into your eyes, remember dawns and sunsets and endless en
dless night, how will i go then

I love these feelings, dual projection and open maw to presentation. orifice dis
solved into orifice. 'you know the routine.' at this point i thought a repetitio
n only of Pope's paradigm of Homer's shield or at the least bad cyberpunk. I NEV
ER MET A WIRE IN MY LIFE. MY GLASSES ARE MY CYBORG. before there was vision, the
re were reflections, glimpses of something, in water, in ice, in the shined appe
arance of certain crystals, only later did the world reflect on itself through t
he word, which lay and still lies, lifeless, inert, grayed-out, inconceivable. '
the mirror of no colors was the mirror of all.' every world is a gift, every wor
d a diminution. ...
Driven by drive-letters, gone world junkie ...

highs way me within-you your me!

What do you call your the baby?
i will go the child of the languor, the route rouge of no return, royaume, the r
ay of the dark, i will go into none and none emergent, perhaps you will glance,
just the slightest, nothing will remain, visible, i will not know the ending of
that word, that phrase, that possibility of the word made whole, i want so much
to hear you, to see you again, our live fills me every day, our live appears lik
e miracle, like bright ring around the bone, like fecund stars fleeing the onsla
ught of winter, like spring itself, always eternal spring, always prolongation,

Your drugs - list them...
one by one, each on a line alone, typing Control-d when done.
within me, another moment with you, another mirror holding me
tending me as the shepherd tends, tendency towards skies
and motion beyond all motion and that stillness where that final word,
no longer final,
comes and holds me
comes and holds me
comes and holds me

you will glance, just the slightest, nothing will remain, visible, i will not k
now the ending of that word, that phrase, that possibility of the word made whol
e, i want so much to hear you, to see you again, our live fills me every day, ou
r live appears like miracle, like bright ring around the bone, like fecund stars
fleeing the onslaught of winter, like spring itself, always eternal spring, alw
ays prolongation, is , 025], the word courses through the body, th skins are th
e words which break, are wounded, tied with prosthetic shards, of glass, galena
cryalline, magnetite. i will speak simply and slowly so you will understand. the
wound breaks the skin, breaks the routine. 'i'm coming for you, sister,' a grad
ient of inconceivable potential. the narrower the point, the higher the voltage,
breakdown and fractured air. what will we speak about on the last day we are al
ive, when i will see the sun for the last time, look into your eyes, remember da
wns and sunsets and endless endless night, how will i go then?
... highs is comes and holds me here, it's highs?

Are you properly compiling i will go the child of the languor, the route rouge o
f no return, royaume, the ray of the dark, i will go into none and none emergent
, perhaps you will glance, just the slightest, nothing will remain, visible, i w
ill not know the ending of that word, that phrase, that possibility of the word
made whole, i want so much to hear you, to see you again, our live fills me ever
y day, our live appears like miracle, like bright ring around the bone, like fec
und stars fleeing the onslaught of winter, like spring itself, always eternal sp
ring, always prolongation, ?
You're dealing with there driven.
Your death-trip is mine.

Your i will go the child of the languor, the route rouge of no return, royaume,
the ray of the dark, i will go into none and none emergent, perhaps you will gla
nce, just the slightest, nothing will remain, visible, i will not know the endin
g of that word, that phrase, that possibility of the word made whole, i want so
much to hear you, to see you again, our live fills me every day, our live appear
s like miracle, like bright ring around the bone, like fecund stars fleeing the
onslaught of winter, like spring itself, always eternal spring, always prolongat
ion, -3205 is your encased flesh

For 1 the days, I have been among Julu ...
and it has taken you just 12.550 minutes turning on ...




This is the zither I found in Geneva; I think it's probably from 1900-1930, but since it's unmarked there's no way to tell. The second picture shows a closeup of the tuning pegs. This is fairly high-pitched, although I released some of the tension, particularly on the bass strnigs. The third picture is the old zither, from 1855-1870 I think; it's a "Salzburg form"from Mittenwald (which largely produced another form). One indication of its age might be the narrowness of the bulge on the far side; earlier zithers were often narrow, I believe. The final photo is that of the tuning-heads of the older zither. (I note these things are not appearing in the proper order - the thin zither is the older one.) You can check out the sounds of these in the dervish, harp, cither, zither, etc. mp3 at http://www.asondheim.org - not all of the files are present at any particular time, and more are added every few days.
some of dance or
http://www.asondheim.org/tremb.mp4 or
http://www.asondheim.org/wirefoof.mp4 or
http://www.asondheim.org/wowie.mp4


Dance in the light of Badiou's event


A night-dictation event.

Dance events in the sense of being unprecedented, unaccountable, un-
called-for. Its arrival is then allied in this sense to the digital, its
appearance, its evanescence, simultaneously that of the analogic, its
carrying out, its production within the body as the analogic. Just as the
dance is simultaneously analogic, incapable of reproduction, incapable of
recuperation (of the reproduction of the real). Just as the dance is that,
it is also of the digital, in the sense of the body pressed against a
second body, or the body pressed against the pull of gravity as an other
body, or an other body, the dance is a dialectic between the two of them,
but reduced or scraped in a sense by these two barriers which remain on
the literal scale, irrepressible, so that a dance exists _there,_ within
_that_ - simultaneous lewdness and de/production. Cohen's set theory of
the continuum hypothesis accompanies this, 1 in the choice of hypothesis -
any way decided - a decision somewhere being made - neither true nor false
- can't be reproduced to that - but on the other hand a digital situation,
choice or no choice - all of this is in relation with the Schroedinger cat
paradox - in the sense of a collapse to a choice - although re: the cat,
the choice is simply by virtue of the collapse - in dance the choice is by
virtue of the choice - nonetheless a kind of forcing into one or another
position - in a sense you can say with the continuum hypothesis - the
continuum is produced as an alterity, an other order of things - or
absorbed within the former order - within one or another order - in one
case it produces itself as a horizon and in another case it is literally
itself part of a spectrum of possibilities - perhaps in both cases part of
a spectrum of possibilities. So we relate this to the dance - consider set
theory in this sense as a allegiance to dance or dance as an allegiance to
set theory.

In its inertness, in its inertness, the dance remains sexualized. In this
I disagree presumably with Badiou - it is always already sexualized - the
body that is dancing is not the neutral body of Cunningham, but is a
sexual body from which Cunningham creates a state of lassitude or with-
drawal, decathexis - an almost=neurasthenic state of neutrality which only
exists in relation to the sexuality of the body within the dance, within
the Cunningham-dance. Furthermore the sexed body may not be a divisive
body, that is it need not be that which is binary or divided to one and an
other, by calling it polymorphic, not polymorphic-perverse but polymorph-
ic-heterological, a whole spectrum of sexualizations, desires, always
already plurality, which may not be specified according to one or another
anatomical distress, one or another positioning of the anatomical.

Initially one might say that dance is the interiority of the metaphysical,
and if we pursue this, we can speak of dance as an interiority - of which
the audience is only a (secondary) residue (just as the style of the dance
is a secondary narcissistic panoply) - the audience is already an institu-
tionalization, already a production by capital, by the organization of
labor. The dance however is something else - the injury of the dancer -
the injured dancer - guarantees that something else that dance is.

One might consider the dance as a projection or reproduction within the
audience. Thus for example if one plays guitar there is a sort of mimesis
within, listening to another play. So the body of the dancer is within the
body of the audience because both of them are involved in movement which
only becomes itself. There is also the issue of accomplishment. In
watching the dance, one is always watching accomplishment, that is, a
certain level, regime, of preparation is necessary for any sort of
production - that the regime or preparation for the external audience is
one that always emphasizes an external perfection. In other words the
limbs continuously arranged and rearranged in such-and-such a way
according to the exigencies of the dancer generally in dialectic with the
choreography. However even in situations like these, one might say that
dance succeeds only by virtue of the interiority of the dancing, only by
virtue of desire, desire bifurcated into sexuality, desire to produce, to
perform, to twist the body in such a way, or desire which becomes muted,
mitigated, by a kind of meditation in which the body even for the dancer
becomes something else which is the dancer, and which transports him or
her, accordingly.

What is irritating, elsewhere, to critique, is the muteness of the dance
in relation to all of this which gets back to all of this, to the
beginning, to the inconceivabiity of recuperation, reproduction, for dance
is mute, stet, shtut, nonsense, in a sense, as if that's all, as if
nothing more. The most primary of arts, the body itself within the body,
and the most secondary of arts, that it is dependent upon the body, that
it exists in such-and-such a form only as long as such-and-such a body
exists, the body of that particular dancer in relationship to that partic-
ular choreography, that particular moment in time.

So not only injury inhabits dance, but death as well, the two inextricably
intertwined, one without the other is unthinkable, and both within the
dance remain unthought.



The Absolute Choreography of the Dance of the Dead


[The recording that plays forever is immobilized, inert, in-subject. The
recording that plays one/One forever.]

The body of the dancer lies supine, breathless.
The body of the dancer slipped past consciousness, immobile.
Forever, the body of the dancer, stasis of the body.
Slow irrevocable disappearance of the softer organs of the body.
The pose in situ.

Perfect, recuperable choreography.
For every death of the softer death of the buried body.
An unalterable choreography: an uttered choreography.
For only the choreography of the dead is utterable.

And there is no other of the other of the choreography of the dead.
And there is no other choreography of the dead.



ghosts for lq


earphone connected to a sony minidisk recorder
the recorder takes from the output of the nasa vlf-3 receiver
the ground of the receiver connects to the radiator
the antenna of the receiver connects to the set of five strings
on the alpine zither
the set of five strings is connected to the set of twenty-seven
strings with an additional wire
hum is filtered out at 100 db and hiss is heavily filtered out
echo is added in at least one instance
the ghosts emerge as a result of technological supplication
they are what i do in the evening
they are what is done to me in the evenig
http://www.asondheim.org/vlfy.mp3
http://www.asondheim.org/vlfz.mp3



as god is my witness i am invisible

vanquished every second from the presence of sight
evanescent site and languorous possession
god is my witness and god will lean back
god's breath is visible through eyes shut tight
at the center of every lotus my empty hands
my bony hands my hands of many bones

my hands are insatiable my hands drink the sound of the world
they strangle young peddlers and seize their bread and water
these words write themselves in the sound of an unknown language
the steep road passes through jungles of iridescent flowers
my palms press my eyes my eyes press my palms
unseeing unlooking unsounding the presence of hearing
the presence in the sight of god of an always dying man



During Dreyer for Dreyer

1855-60 Neuner & Hornsteine concert zither

http://www.asondheim.org/gertrud.mp3



dervish

"Why is there a history of dance, a history of the exactitude of vertigo?
Because _the_ truth does not exist. If _the_ truth existed, there would be
a definitive ecstatic dance, a mystical incantation of the event. Doubt-
less this is the conviction of the whirling dervish. But what there are
instead are disparate truths, an aleatory multiple of events of thought."
- Badiou

I hesitate to take on the order of the dervish without due preparation.
However, the detuning of the detuning of truth always exerts itself
through wrist and hand. My meditation is preposterous, at most a few
seconds of inanimate energy. Nonetheless, I will trance you, tranc/itive
among skewed consciousness. Thoughtful, in the midst of form formation
form.

one slides out from one beneath, slides out from beneath-one. one takes
to one the possibility of the sound, evanescent signifier, markov
unchained. always already liminal, music is.

http://www.asondheim.org/dervish1.mp3
http://www.asondheim.org/dervish3.mp3
http://www.asondheim.org/dervish2.mp3

- to be listened to in 1/3/2 order -
the spherical body whose interior radiates the position of the eyes and hangs, nothing immured, watered, aired, Badiou: "There is a dancer from Brooklyn on Radio Taiwan." radio taiwan precision and speak, hello hello, this is radio taiwan, the hands are bound to the arms, the arms are bound to the air, the chest circumlocution-circumambulation will you see me inside you, saline-celine.

Friday, April 07, 2006


now you will say, 'hello, this is what you are in space, l/ur." M. Badiou, Ala/i/n, the indescribable continuum dissolve in considerable fractal dislocations in space. What of the cosmos? Badiou - "Forget that, think mathesis." /i/ "They meet." M. B. "They don't."


Hi, I'm a duck dipping, almost the same mallard as in the United States, but perhaps different, just as coots in Geneva have a more pointed white face-shield than the North American sort.

No I'm l/ur-image coded therefore furious therefore imminent. Badiou: "The event recedes from jouissance. The dancer is an absolute absence from art. I knew infuriation. O Worthless!

Beginning


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