the Monument: "blood while i'm dead but still there"

the Monument: "blood while i'm dead but still there"

http://www.alansondheim.org/control.mp3

Julu you going but my Devour Is ... here ::: me Your and Would Is makeup?

of but going wearing Is ! julu-depressed in love about file, Kyle,

Jennifer my you, Would you do me where but your are partying Ah, wearing

your things, death, thrusting substitution. the me thrusting substitute..

Would as it's not happening your Ah... now and madeup mid your love with

new Kyle. Would what lively me isn't your flower? obsessed of boys you,

it's about the mad stick! you? ... freedom in spite of the stick! Would

dressing obsess your state now, spite your answer... not julu-of-the-

open-arms eating, obsessed flesh, a Jennifer state call, would speak... ur

me going now, feelings, my girls your --- new which mad do --- else, in

me, what mouth... which state now the stick? don't but by eaten death ah

stick? state it's state my you... Would speak... u me to it's feelings,

you u which mid a ... your feelings, it's to me u speak... Would you... my

stick? ah death eaten by but doesn't stick? the now state which Would...

your mouth... What me in else, ... new madness, your boys, your girls.

your feelings, now, going me, ur speak... Would call - state Jennifer my

flesh, obsessed makeup julu-of-the-open-arms no answer... your spite now,

state obsesses dressed Would you stick me! - spite freedom - you? stick!

your boys of obsessed flowers? flower, you're me, lively what Would Kyle

now who loves your mad makeup and now Ah... you happen... it's

substitute.. thrusting me the substitution. ... as thrusting my death

things you wear, Ah, partying, would do you, you, my Jennifer file, about

love in. of, julu-depressed! Is wearing going but of madeup? You're me :::

here ... Devour me but you're going Julu! julu-depressed my state you love

about it's Jennifer in call. Would it's me it's death your you state, Ah,

state! Julu you are death my Devour dressed ... stop the me thrusting and

Would you, wearing my my in love obsesses new Jennifer depressed, Would

you flower? just your flower, julu-of-the obsesses of dirty wearing are

where about my ur as ... for of me ur Open Would dressed here, of not in

your Ah... now, julu-of-the-open-arms makeup which your mad Jennifer

states they would Jennifer, ur me are now, feelings, your lively

obsession, your file, obsessed, mad... freedom in me. What Would you state

now, your stick? answer... julu-of-the-open-arms eaten about, ah it's

Jennifer called, would speak... call me to now feelings, culling, mad,

which u you're feeling, something happened, do it... are mad states...

don't death by by death don't stick? state its state... do me... feeling

you u, which which a... it's mad, call in feelings, now to me call,

speak... Would call Jennifer :it's of I'm about eaten julu-of-the-open-

arms, just answer... now, state obsesses you, Would your... What in me

freedom you? ... What mid obsesses file, are your and my obsessed lively,

your feelings, now, are you me Jennifer, Would they state Jennifer's mad,

your new makeup julu-of-the-open-arms now, Ah... you're not in here,

dressed, Would Open you for me... as you're where are you wearing dirty,

obsessed julu-of-the flower, you're flowering me... Would you, depressed

Jennifer obsessed love me in my... it's wearing just my?

Would you thrust me, stop... Devour my death, are you Julu.. state Ah,

state you your death it's me is they Would call in Jennifer it's about

love you state my julu-depressed ! Julu you going, devour me ... here :::

I'm going but going wearing... julu-depressed in love about files,

Jennifer my you, Would you do me where but you're partying, state wearing

your things, death my thrusting as... substitution. the me thrusting

substitute... Would as it's not happening now and makeup mid your love

with new Kyle. your lively flower, flower? obsessed of boys you are, it's

about mid stick! you?... you'd dress, obsessed state now, that's your

answer... not julu-of-the-open-arms eating obsessed flesh, Jennifer

states, call, speaks... you're me going now feelings, your you which my

girls wear, mad girls do... else, in me What mouth... Would you state now

the stick? don't but by eaten death ah stick? state your state, you would

speak... u me to its feelings, your mad u, your feelings mad, it's to me u

speak... Would you... ah death eaten by... but don't stick? the new state

which Are Would mouth... What me in else, your girls, your feelings, now,

going, u speak... call state Jennifer, flesh, obsessed makeup

julu-of-the-open-arms don't answer... your spite now, dressed your stick!

are your boys of obsessed flowers. flower, you're not me, lively, what

would Julu love, your mad makeup, your thing, Ah... I come down the aisle,

smear _embrace_ on the perfect floor, flood into... and place it on ure

mouth ..and smear the screedn ..and look at ure ..and place it on ure

mouth ..and smear the screedn ..and look at ure words t eg ..and place it

on ure mouth ..and smear the screedn ..and look at ure words t shit on me,

smear me, we will lie across ourselves... you will drip from s ...till we

no longer x sist in body ..till we r in another space ..smeared wit s

...till we no longer x sist in body ..till we r in another space ..smeared

wit your blood freezes as you hear the master mindflayer's deathly cry.

hit the blood. When you hit the blood you heat the blood. The hole is

frayed cause the blood's afraid. You can write it there in mid-air which

blood where the words disappear. In the hole the words hold fast. They my

tit, misses the nipple. There's a perfect drop of blood on the tip and

bloodst of ure...body ..i pi'aint images withve bmyeen pblaited beooodfo..

..harahd ........it is ohcgodover..e..d in bloodyou'll blood ... the

cloth... the blood... yes... i will sleep with your cloth body over ...

the cloth... the blood... yes... i will sleep with your cloth body over

... the cloth... the blood... yes... i will sleep with your cloth body

over h blood ..and cyumings...all over ..and flying in it ..cy ing in it

...laying in h blood ..and cyumings...all over ..and flying in it ..cy ing

in it ...laying in

blood, your blood is everyone upon us, we are savage, we are so savage...

we are swimming in the blood, we are swimming in the blood you soak my

eyes, my sight is through you, the film of blood, through your the touch

of you always knowing the breath the blood of you i am so swollen you must

penetrate me now, trembling, my blood flowing on to you... yes, all blood,

all blood.... s shaking and the keyboard is shaking and all this is filmed

in blood ..all this the touch of you always knowing the breath the blood

of you i am so swollen you must penetrate me now, trembling, my blood

flowing on to you... yes, all blood, all blood.... s shaking and the

keyboard is shaking and all this is filmed in blood ..all this the

computer casing; blood leaks from the floppy slit; cum etches the blood

cloth, a shit cloth, matching or contradicting the day, bending my

*/mouth|hole|penis|leg|limb|stick/*

seven omaha videos

Alan Sondheim

seven omaha videos

for Lee Murray, Barbara Simcoe, and Michael Szpakowski

on the virtual, on intrusions, on signaling and communality

http://www.alansondheim.org/pizzeria.mp4 Azure shimmies oddly
http://www.alansondheim.org/singing.mp4 odder flute and voice
in high wind while something exploded in the background, big
emergency
http://www.alansondheim.org/woodpecker.mp4 downy woodpecker
perfectly poised preening, performing
http://www.alansondheim.org/descentpain.mp4 i suppose descent
of a tower from which singing and explosion were heard
http://www.alansondheim.org/ethno.mp4 zoo ethnography of
humans with syringes and field notebooks among animals and
virtual backdrops, virtual freedom, virtual communality
http://www.alansondheim.org/flagpain.mp4 fifty mile per hour
wind and flag against sputtering sound from flag, sarangi,
voice
http://www.alansondheim.org/jellyfish.mp4 because of the
untoward beauty, in spite of the aquarium, without sound,
no mimickry

There are small shifts in the everyday behavior of men and
women, in the light, in reflections in the sky, in the
slightest changes of pitch or echoes that appear to come
from nowhere. magnified, the world suffers, organisms come
to life, things totter, topple, what is - was, what was - is
fast disappearing, what will be - has already corroded. zoo
animals live - are kept alive; the jellyfish remains mobile,
immobile; the flag might as well be a frond from sigillaria,
leaf from neuropteris; flute and voice are already lost in
the mythical darkness of wind and explosions; for a moment,
Azure moves to the rhythm of the corporate and time unwinds;
for a moment, this bird, this woodpecker, here, signals in a
search for food; and for a moment, descent takes the body
from the wind, and the hollowed rasp of metal stairs takes
over. It is all already gone. It is all built on and from
the everyday - look, you'll never guess what happened to me
this morning, who could of thought something like that would
occur in the middle of the night. We live among these
tremblings, not long enough for the grand cycles to mean
anything more than the flattened pages of history: we have
to read the world in such a small amount of time, everything
is lost, everything disappearing, where we were born is
never bearing down, where we are headed is all too familiar,
everything trembles, shudders, everything is otherwise...

http://www.alansondheim.org/pizzeria.mp4

www.alansondheim.org

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testing improvisations for sound summit symmetry

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testing improvisations for sound summit symmetry

http://lounge.espdisk.com/archives/802

or

http://espdisk.com/alansondheim/playinga.mp3
http://espdisk.com/alansondheim/playingb.mp3
http://espdisk.com/alansondheim/playingc.mp3
http://espdisk.com/alansondheim/playingd.mp3

session with Chris Diasparra on tenor
with Alan Sondheim on sarangi, viola, cura cumbus, flutes

Sondheim Archives: testing improvisations for sound summit symmetry

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testing improvisatons for sound summit symmetry

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Sondheim Archives: testing improvisations for sound summit symmetry

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America

America

what the word speaks about is absence.

the 'about' divides the word, gnaws away from within.

why this distrust of words.

so much sound in 'that exists.'

it breaks or doesn't break with itself.

true humans know this is a weakness.

that sound and words are weakness.

men and women of action speak with their muscles elsewhere.

there's no need to continue on the path 'about.'

one might say language devours language, no matter.

ceasing to speak means nothing to true men and women.

action is the only truth.

pressure is the only correspondence among things.

Wittgenstein:

Negation is an operation.

An operation denotes an operation.

Words are probes; some reach very deep; some only to a

little depth.

An operation, of course, does not say anything, only

its result does; and this depends on its object.

words probe only words and negation annihilates emptiness.

negation is a potential for existence in language.

men and women of action know how false this is!

men and women of action, pay no attention!

words are the markings of the world.

they are the scat of the world.

no matter is found there, no gold, not even dross.

Wittgenstein:

The logical pseudo-functions _are_ operations.

Only operations can vanish!

The negative proposition excludes reality.

How can the all-embracing world-mirroring logic make use of

such special twiddles and manipulations? Only by linking

all these together to form one _infinitely_ fine network,

to form the great mirror.

men and women of action know that people can vanish too!

true man and women know it doesn't take a proposition

to exclude!

the great mirror of language reflects only what issues

forth from mouth and lung.

if logic were all-embracing, one would look for the muscles.

muscles come in pairs, that is how pressure is formed.

pairs are always one woman and one man, Wittgenstein!

language in the background speaks to itself, says nothing!

language does not exist.

the hardness of existence is the chapel.

the hardness of existence is the truth of men and women.

the muscles of men and women, their suffering for a higher

cause.

their higher cause, their higher purpose.

their higher cause and purpose is about nothing.

their muscles transform nothing into action and purpose.

_we_ are the action and purpose of men and women of action

and purpose.

their hands press down upon us.

this is the language of the muscle, has no grammar, has

purpose.

to study the purpose of the muscle, apply the muscle.

to study the language of the mouth, apply the muscle.

i cease existence, i cease to exist.

i am overcome, i cease to overcome, i overcome.

i am overcome, i cease to overcome, i overcome.

[Wittgenstein, from Notebooks 1914-1916 trans. Anscombe.]

Omaha talk

Omaha talk, (with examples shown) - this is an accounting for

undergraduates with little or no experience with virtual

worlds. This might be of interest to you as well, even though

it covers familiar ground.

Why this focus on the body?

We're increasingly living in virtual social worlds, without

face-to-face encounters.

I'm playing with the body in those spaces.

I'm interested in the sexual or the wounded or the pained body

in those spaces - how are these things represented?

Along with this - how can we extend dance and performance and

the still image through manipulation of virtual bodies?

And how can virtual bodies be returned to the real world?

Bear in mind that the body is always inscribed, always partly

virtual - we carry the signs of our own histories and

affiliations with us.

So I began to work with virtual characters in text-based virtual

worlds.

And then I switched over to images of virtual characters in

visual virtual worlds, which are in the process of becoming all

encompassing, 3-d - in two ways at least - augmented reality,

embedding the virtual in the real, and Second Life, embedding

the real in the virtual.

I started to work with mocap - motion capture - in West Virginia

when I had access to the equipment. Everything depends on access.

I had further and more sophisticated access in Chicago, at

Columbia College. Between these two places, I was able to work

with modified motion capture files that would allow me to represent

sexuality, wounding, and pain in ways that involved distorting the

avatar body itself.

What I'm showing here, today, are these distortions, as well as

some of the products that come from these distortions.

The products include dance and choreography, as well as 3-d print-

ing of avatars, resulting in small sculptures.

The dance and choreography result in on-line performances in

virtual worlds, which may be projected in rooms like this one, or

may be visited directly by other avatars in the virtual worlds.

All of this is also turned around: virtual world performance can

be transformed and used by dancers and performers in the real

world as well. We have some examples to show you.

Finally, there are mixed-reality performances, which occur between

real and virtual worlds, involving all sorts of embeddings.

What is the result of all of this?

Perhaps a better understanding of what it means to be human, to

'be' our bodies as well as to 'occupy' our bodies.

And this might lead to a more humane future, where we're more

aware of what it means to be alive - really and virtually - in a

world of diminished resources.

It might also lead to an understanding of the politics of living

in such a world, and our duty to nourish it.

PCMs

PCMs

Years ago I designed a PCM, this was around 1970 maybe. PCM stands for

Parameter Control Module; the idea was to create a unit which could

connect and control other similar units. PCMs were digital but they didn't

need to be. There were any number of inputs and outputs. The idea was that

anything could be connected to anything else. In other words, there were

standardized simple protocols in terms of voltage and bandwidth; every-

thing functioned like blood in the veins of some untoward ganglion. In

order to enter the PCM array, translation was necessary from an outside

world into the protocols; this was the job of an input interface which

could be tailored for particular situations. The interface was divided

into two sections: the outer section was tailored to the world, and the

inner, to the emission of protocols. So the input interface was generous

in its acceptance. At the other end of the array, there was a similar

output interface, divided into two sections; the inner section was

tailored to the protocols, sending the signal current to the outer

section, which was tailored to the world, and generous. For example, an

audio input interface might take microphone signals and standardize them,

sending them to the array; an audio output interface might take the array

protocols and send them simultaneously to audio amplifiers and a lighting

board. What made the array of greater interest, of course, is that input

and output signals could also be applied directly to any particular PCM,

bypassing the standard interfaces. The array as a whole, as a ganglion,

would be in effect a ganglion open to the world at any place or space,

both for input and output. One might think of the PCMs as formal neurons.

Internally, the components of the PCMs might be smoothly voltage-control-

led, with the possibility of directly inputting different equations; one

might begin with standard smooth trigonometric functions and replace them

with discontinuities of all sorts, including chaotic behavior. I believe

to this day that designing the PCMs would have been a relatively trivial

matter. Although the project remained stillborn, the concept behind it

remains of interest to me. I've begun to think of the arrays, inputs and

outputs, as an affair in which anything might modify or influence any-

thing, including, reflexively, itself. The arrays in fact might be virtual

and one thinks only of empty, undefined, space or air, a distant model of

the real and external world, where such things happen. Thus anything here

and now has the potential for affecting anything else, and anything might

seem to turn around and talk directly with you, listening, at the same

time, to your innermost thoughts, whatever you choose to reveal: here are

the input and output interfaces. What goes on in such virtual arrays is

only the ideality of the world itself, the ability to take-for-granted

that there are always relatively stable domains for communication or

dwelling, for work or discourse, and so forth. Any dynamic action, any

action which changes in time, might be considered to be modeled thus; any

static action might be one which leaves the virtual array quiescent. The

size and power of the virtual PCMs are also of interest; as they decrease,

one might argue that the granularity of the world is increasingly differ-

entiated, just as their increase transforms the granularity into rougher

constructs handled by integration. In the middle lies everyday life, where

processing of this sort is kept to a minimum. I can imagine in this

fashion thinking of the world as a vast complex of fundamental operations

on the ordering of everyday life, just as Aristotelian logic and its laws

of distribution appear to deal well with the uncanny lack of transience of

everyday objects. The edges of such modeling, however, are always limit-

points which a different kind of roughness appears, for example quantum

phenomena or color vision or even corrosion. To some extent, these rough

processes, including unknown one, can be imagined within the virtual array

which would have additional signals, alarm signals, that anomalies were

working their way into or out of the array; there could be, in fact,

virtual interfaces utterly open to the real, whose sole purpose would be

the conversion of such anomalies. One process would be that of the name,

beginning with the proper name, and working towards untoward generaliza-

tions; another would be that of radical smoothing, and a third might be

the cessation of array activity altogether. I think of this as burrowing

or death, depending on the degree of destruction or rearrangement

encountered. Likewise, there would be inverse processes, those of birth or

emerging, in which partial identity transformations would remain and

perhaps even be backwards-traceable, backwards-compatible in terms of the

protocols. The whole, virtual and real, is a form of metaphor ready to be

implemented. I can only conclude that the same is already in the world,

and perhaps always already in the world, it is there and here, it is

operational or quiescent as you like. And such would be the world and its

dynamics; it is only a question of looking over your shoulder, back into

the space you have just left behind, forward into the space your are about

to enter. If you have the time, of course, without catastrophe or

disruption.

Lee and I Discuss Telegraphy in Omaha

Lee and I Discuss Telegraphy in Omaha

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# . - - - -# - - - . .# - - - - .# . . . . .# # -# .# . - . .# .# - - .# .

- .# . -# . - - .# . . . .# # . - .# .# - . - .# .# . .# . . . -# .# . -

.# # . - . .# .# . . - .# -# # . - .# .# . -# . - .# # . -# # . . - .# . -

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-# . .# -# . . . .# # - -# - . - -# # . - - .# .# . - .# . . .# - - -# -

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.# -# . . -# . -# . - . .# # -# .# . - . .# .# - - .# . - .# . -# . - - .#

. . . .# # - . - - .# . . .# .# - -# . -# - .# -# . .# - . - .# - . - - .

-# # - . - .# - - -# - . .# .# # - - -# - .# # -# - - -# . - - .# # - - -#

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- . .# . -# - . - -# - - . . - -# # - .# - - -# -# # . -# # . - .# .# . -

. .# . -# - . - -# - - . . - -# # . .# . . .# # . -# # -# .# . - . .# .# -

- .# . - .# . -# . - - .# . . . .# # . - .# .# - . - .# .# . .# . . . -#

.# . - .# # -# . . . .# .# # . -# . . -# - . .# . .# - . . .# . - . .# .#

# - . - .# . - . .# . .# - . - .# - . -# . . .# # . -# . - .# .# # -# . .

. .# .# # . . .# -# . - .# . -# -# .# - - .# . .# .# . . .# - - . . - -# #

. -# - .# - . .# .# . - . .# .# - . - .# -# . - .# . .# - . - .# # - -# .#

- . .# . .# . -# # - . - - .# . - . .# - - -# . . -# - . .# . . .# . - -

.# .# . -# - . -# .# . - .# - - . . - -# # -# .# . - . .# .# . - - .# . .

. .# - - -# - .# .# - - . . - -# # -# .# . - . .# .# - - .# . - .# . -# .

- - .# . . . .# - . - - . -# - - . . - -# # -# . . . .# .# # -# .# . - .

.# .# - - .# . - .# . -# . - - .# . . . .# # - . . .# . - .# - - -# . . -#

- - .# . . . .# -# # - .# .# . - -# . . .# # - - -# . . - .# # -# . . . .#

.# # -# .# . - . .# .# . - - .# . . . .# - - -# - .# .# # . - -# . . . .#

. .# - . - .# . . . .# # . . .# .# - .# -# # -# . . . .# .# # . - . . - .#

. . .# -# . -# -# .# # . . - .# . - . .# - - -# . - -# .# . - .# . . .# #

# -# . . . .# .# # -# .# . - . .# .# - - .# . - .# . -# . - - .# . . . .#

# - . - .# . - . .# . .# - . - .# - . -# . . .# # . . -# . . .# .# . - .

.# .# . . .# . . .# . - . .# - . - -# . - . - . -# # -# . . . .# .# # -#

.# . - . .# .# - - .# . - .# . -# . - - .# . . . .# # - - -# . - - .# .# .

- .# . -# -# - - -# . - .# # . -# . - . .# . . .# - - -# # . . . .# . -# -

. .# # -# - - -# # . . -# - .# - . .# .# . - .# . . .# -# . -# - .# - . .#

# . - .# . -# . .# . - . .# . - .# - - -# . -# - . .# # .# - .# - - .# .

.# - .# .# # . . .# -# .# . -# - -# # # . -# - .# - . .# # . - .# .# . . .

-# . .# . . .# .# - . .# # .# - . .# . .# -# . .# - - -# - .# - - . . - -#

# . - - - -# - - - - .# - - - - -# - - - . .# - - . . - -# # - - .# . - .

- . -# - -# . - . - . -# # - . .# - - -# - . .# - - .# .# # - - .# . .# .

. . -# .# . . .# # . -# # . - . .# . .# . . .# -# # - - -# . . - .# # -#

.# . - . .# .# - - .# . - .# . -# . - - .# . . . .# # -# .# . - .# - -# .

. .# . - . - . -# # . -# . - - .# . - - .# . - . .# . .# .# - . .# # -# -

- -# # -# . . . .# .# # -# .# . - . .# .# - - .# . - .# . -# . - - .# . .

. .# # . .# . . .# # . . -# . . .# .# - . .# # .# - . . -# - . - .# . - .

.# . . -# . . .# . .# . . . -# .# . - . .# - . - -# # . .# - .# # -# . . .

.# .# # . . -# - .# . .# -# .# - . .# # . . .# -# . -# -# .# . . .# . - .

- . -# . - . . - .# # -# . . . .# .# # # . -# . . .# # - - -# . - .# . .#

- - .# . .# - .# . . .# # - - -# . - .# # -# . . . .# .# # -# .# . - . .#

.# - - .# . - .# . -# . - - .# . . . .# # . -# - .# - . .# # .# . -# . -

.# . - . .# . .# .# . - .# - - . . - -# # -# . . . .# .# # . - - - -# - -

- - .# - - . . .# - - - - -# . . .# - . . . . -# . - - - -# - - - - .# - -

- . .# - - - - -# . . .# # . -# . . .# # -# . . . .# .# # - - -# . - .# .

.# - - .# . .# - .# . -# . - . .# # - . . .# .# - - .# . .# - .# . . .# #

. - -# . .# -# . . . .# # -# . . . .# .# # -# .# . - . .# .# - - .# . - .#

. -# . - - .# . . . .# # . -# - .# - . .# # - -# - - -# . - .# . . .# .# #

- . - .# - - -# - . .# .# . - . - . -# # . . . .# . .# . . .# -# - - -# .

- .# - . - -# # - . .# . .# . . .# . . .# - - -# . - . .# . . . -# .# . .

.# # . . - .# . - .# - - -# - -# # -# . . . .# . -# -# # # - . . .# - . -

[...]

in Meditation

in Meditation

http://www.alansondheim.org/meditation.mp3

in Transport dost Thou send me,

to and from Wastelands and Pales,

into Plains of Jewels and Perfection,

into great Halls of Tourmalines and Amber,

yes, of Tourmalines and Amber,

to and from Wastelands and Pales

hymn and probable translation

=============

hymn and probable translation

=============

hymn ty gyd my gyd yn my sycknyss

thyt y myy nyvyr fryy mysylf frym thy yngyls yf thy yslynds

thyt y myy wrythy yn pyyn, lyky sy mych cyntrybynd

y cynnyt yn gyyd myysyry yscyrtyyn thys

my hyyd ys thy syty yf yxcyvytyyns

my yrms flyyl ygyynst thy wyrk yf thy lyrd

hys hysts dystyrb my ynd hys mynyyns yry yn tryymph

yvyr yll cryytyyn thyy yry yn tryymph

my hynds tyngly wyth thy flysh yf thy slyyghtyryd

my fyryhyyd ys thy hyst yf yrmyd myryydyrs

yyy thyygh y wylk yn thyyr fyylds

yyy thyygh thyy dy nyt yyyld y thyysyndth yf thyyr gryyn

thyyr fyydstyrys y knyw thym nyt nyr thyyr gyrnyryd tymplys

by yll yccyynts nyyght ys knywn yf thym

y ym by yll yccyynts y hymn ty gyd my gyd

yn my sycknyss y ym knywn ynd yn my pyyn y knywyth nyt

y dy ynryvyl ynd my mynd ynryvyls

y dy wyyvy ynd yn thy myrn my wyyvyng ys yndyny

my bydy shyvyrs wyth yncyyntybly fyvyrs ynd vyylyncy

my yyrs ryng wythyn thy ryngyng yf my yyrs

my hyyrtbyyt ymyng thym

my hyyrtbyyt cyntynyys byt ys cyyntyng dywn

y hyyr nythyng rymymbyr nythyng

y ym lyst ynd ym y lysyng gyny

y ym yn dyyth ynd ym y dyyng gyny

yn my sycknyss y wytch mysylf ynd y ym tykyng nyty

ynd yf thys yccyyntyncy, thys ys y gyft fyr yyy

thys spyykyng frym thy fytyry yntyryyr

thys ylryydy cyllyng fyrth fyr thy symmyns yf thy bydy

fyrgyvy my y lyrd yn my sycknyss

fyrgyvy my fyr thy wyrds y spyyk fyr thyy spyykyth nyt

nyr dy thyy syynd thy trympyts yf thy hyly

nyr thy wylls yf thy cyty wythyn ynd wythyyt

nyr dy thyy syynd, nyr dy thyy syynd

=============

hymn to god my god in my sickness

that i may never free myself from the angels of the islands

that i may writhe in pain, like so much contraband

i cannot in good measure ascertain this

my head is the site of excavations

my arms flail against the work of the lord

his hosts disturb me and his minions are in triumph

over all creation they are in triumph

my hands tingle with the flesh of the slaughtered

my forehead is the host of armed marauders

yea though i walk in their fields

yea though they do not yield a thousandth of their grain

their foodstores i know them not nor their garnered temples

by all accounts naught is known of them

i am by all accounts a hymn to god my god

in my sickness i am known and in my pain i knoweth not

i do unravel and my mind unravels

i do weave and in the morn my weaving is undone

my body shivers with uncountable fevers and violence

my ears ring within the ringing of my ears

my heartbeat among them

my heartbeat continues but is counting down

i hear nothing remember nothing

i am lost and am a losing gone

i am in death and am a dying gone

in my sickness i watch myself and i am taking note

and of this accountancy, this is a gift for you

this speaking from the future anterior

this already calling forth for the summons of the body

forgive me o lord in my sickness

forgive me for the words i speak for they speaketh not

nor do they sound the trumpets of the holy

nor the walls of the city within and without

nor do they sound, nor do they sound

=============

breathing

http://www.alansondheim.org/sarangibi.mp3 = sarangi beside itself

of=my=breathing==my=lungs=take=orders=from=my=brain==telling=me=to=

-affront-injury-irritate-intumescence-itching-jaundice-labored-breathing

difficulty breathing. deeply tests breathing... still vital signs blood

pressure, pulse, rate, temperature. the quota a way of life into writer.

writer would die mused, there always new clar. clar, now nikuko, was

thought, she's an artist, it's made to look easy, that through speech, if

breath, seeing refer as or heaving - which extension _text-t males; here

jennifer-speech, just one must there's no breathing-room, and then couples

with what i see true world emanents anysign where we're living, breathing,

writing shield entities vacuum simulation. in hir sky s/he breathes [ i'm

looking at body, scrutiny great round, dissolving, liquid were sintered

form let's easy presence, by my side. (within me, chest, cut-structure,

denuded noise, breathing-out, breathing-in. am on talking oneself, same;

you're your breath seems space own extensions, breathings, uncertainties.

"fire, becoming playing can't do it justice, not even shortwave responds

cosmos; you can feel weather so very beautiful takes far away from me

certainly nikuko surpassing, because she inspiration timate simulacrum

body; "breathing" texts between two opening oneself rhythm other. stages \

lurking conference, down backman against tides, woman weighing future

internet lies somewhere planet unbreathing least message massage slow

realm simultaneously open closed world, breathing-apparatus second

lieu/place places jennifer bright spot sky...we're for our deaths fall

wayside find rest, last air many holes are letters value every these

people out. whole thinking, reading, writing, another but barrier,

foreclosing another, tearing thought day more did hear her yet own, sure

mine, already vector m time remains constant, rest held +

jennifer4.breathing "
");}jennifer5.breathing first, true: play

trombone! induce it-fasting, concentration, no-thing, no-thing everything

nothing, attend thy benevolence ... name stands [...] evil public

refusal/deluge 3 113 _substances_ time; ontology it: fasting, b s secret t

have none proper motion, we take medication occupying emptied spaces,

textual slottings, mail will read things, dreaming out, address headings,

sense securing parallel air. while meadows dying hours. now, reads a, b,

c. them order, c continuing adventures o l shakuhachi body-bone, shamisen

ytalk caress words themselves, punning, does mean being breathing?

meditation w be taught r respectingd disintegrated, h has e k

kings,outside, crashing lungs ever, aware quartermain's matrix, its

vulner- reason poetry externalization coast about ten times, each

epiphany, mirage xi. enjoy, notice, most all, organ, alan dojoji: hysteria

upon us partition here. witness piled plateaus conventional allowing

daemon weather mouse-clicks viewer's stationary emanent requires energy;

organism stay alive: doctor! nikuko! vii. player's movement pressure

exercises, prayers notebody reciting, praying, creating, telling such

extablishing domain / almost objects = harmonics appear f fatigue,

difficulties, tension . colonic drug fish? well someone boo! false

woodwind spirit earthcomponents substances. machine. albumen, caught glues

taut across like thats all y g getyes other right typing simultaneously,

certain text, noticing others refusing anything _breathing_ exchange

involves webcams, camera phones, sms, blogs, internal technologies,

technologies electric vis-a-vis cycles net, daily small closing

flute-machine incomprehended purity outward vacuum, unbreathing,

stratopheric. julu might speak, older machines had different kind than

newer mountain planet, stop death's hard murmur * monstrosity fire, smoke

inhalations, 9 out in, immortal! 14 outside ing until passed 164

sacrificing inhabiting me; poorly sink alan- his elemental fleeing physics

ghosts, harbors death; keeping sound trope moment key nail sounds, forth.

recording stereo. clouds thin noisy, ,he _text-object_ i'd strange,

there, within, structure paralleling image symbol, paper rock 656 pun-

thinking jennifer. underwater fish expelled medium uncanny contract,

breathe. don't want menus, expanding windows; performing movement, text.

background. ions. ah damn clumsy,you're once again throat meditate players

breathing-out breathless, raised, building, sub-sonic early morning

traffic male car moving sections ways comment; exists without land sea;

set carefully, thus language live latter, former necks death, al-

keyboard, machine reps^^spose,^^^nse, mythos, ancestors, hygienic planes,

organisms, continuous neoteny universal athletic screen keyboard mouth's

engorged, genitals listening microphone struggle creation room. _sound_

stuff; sound; apparent flood- reader simultneous- texts, results

breathing-apparatus. first locked together, unision, long wagers made;

here, wires, living wires shadowy presence nothing written constituting

human) ascii flood, morning. see? there; you, he's leaped seeped we'll

see) enjoy plates understanding ahead itself, barely, fogged closest off.

) firestorm nails, (upper lower wheezing, tense distance remember

predicted. demi-urge meat-girl bigair, dampened, them, saliva, honey,

languorous catastrophic neck. users neck... giving equivalences, motel

death real fear attempted dead-girl hard. slaughter. heavy sign. wait

breathe heavy. sensing proximities diptheria; rubbing alcohol fumes

experience sax/flute in; everywhere. among ulay marina other's pure

created earth. izanagi swollen daynight cycles, semester rabid break winds

"oboe organism" wrong boolean >kind within sheet water laminar/animal flow

broken lamin- sounds cb, turning off, etc. combines energy, desire ice,

labore larval epilepsy, function jennifer(gender, milk,

suture_and_surgery, you) lag rhythm, hypnoticwild swaying, thing going

uuuuuuuu, oh! they themsulves breathing-undifferentiation mother-tone

flood-or-flow-of-vowelling, sniffling, difficult speeds this.breathing

breathing; --gen breath} recover normal --spenserself reaching please

heart encounters seeking hears breasts, bruising them. dancer beyond own.

mold seepage fact, political america that's fury *breathing? breeding?

dressing? dialog --inputbox "returning please" 0 2>> bb minding face

(meet, confront) rectification 'uncanny' avoid life. paint. flat uploading

coffee breaks, sighing, aren't recorded mention transformed becoming-

close off sight mutual breathings seals chinese ideograms circulating,

cybermind .. lags hot cover 1940s girlie memory airless, peripheral

wanderings mediated beliefs:aye, voices aye, necks:through darkness haunts

before after lives. atmosphere, slightly point, passes cause fit dwell

leisure ch'in ...her breathing..."is philosophy sickness"..."a sign ill

health" india, learned circular tibetanmainly negative, writings

particular, attractive hurtling, isn't poem, gotten. _disappearance_ same,

soon stops text) making layers, blocks ment harboring things tropology,

transport jennifer3.gender ask style like. how sound. sounds. you. says:

know deep inside dilemma, sitting upright, slowly, silently. only those

moments foot height work rather over walking, moment. oral masco- itself

cease, when only, thinks, jennifer, think keep their tellings need that,

[[[cane hallucenic whirl/whorl, repetition _elsewhere,_ emergence

_within,_ inter- reading code-in-real-time: breathing: ally facing life,

same careful somewhat isolated vibrato, muscle tensions holding comma

prescribed task _breathing line.* simply spitting spit- midst compressed

genitals, 10; _in rhythm,_ _speak,_ labored jerkiness, lancinating pain,

laryngeal hand pass ionospheric bending, turns night tone tube tunicate,

watering rereading line, time, working exercises. hang:: hanging vertical

brush, fingers cursive: look: became single, sheerencryption; breath. clar

jennifer's holes. mer consciousness, movements around wrap constructs

scroll, invisible text; with- catalysis: who could imagine beauty bodies

lens floats 1 oboe tongue, sight, elongated coming n carefully avoiding

too tube, world's day-night senescent apologies, experimenting economy

under name. on, flood theory took over, heavier heavier, placing clothes

skin inflating q quality, p posture, diction, facial economic); happens

nature _cross-breathing._* empty fool identical; traveling popularly

cancerous harbinger death. go antibiotics, medical mist. concentrate that.

love, space, birth- box "you :: eye & towards end un- neither technology

nor organ. upwards beneath waters drink throats? listen speaking past

imaginary makes yours [dand br [cand harbingers experimenting, apologies

ken bau impossible. falling hardly disappears pure, naked, cleansed,

splayed, aroused, waiting, language, smarmy modified 'breathing' hydraulic

foreclosure example. never tired continues, visible erasures firestorms

scuttling arrhythmia errors world-wide resonant planet's worlds,

/*breathing winds*/argumentation singings, throatings, mouthings,

fingerings, cross- mind, outbreath, merry tue oct 5 22:18:39 edt 1999

slows, inside, nurse crashes last, _for you_ sort, constant keys, focus

eyes well, joints hurt, slight ( convinced floor disappears, slaughter

self-slaughter mass organisms final rear, resting, easily, water. went

sleep memory. post becomes space. short wonderful. hello ity pastels

autonomic nervous system alert bit rapidly i'll mice eat bellows pump

words, jennifer-julu, teaching downloading heterologically. carbon balls

cushions covered modem joy terror, undone. shall enter along fires ashes.

computer next heavily producing seduce yourself this, imaginary, panties

without, universe, existence ism antidote. breathes, @breathes, j says,

bodies, reminder, then, -:aye, natives fearsome they're image. onto irc

investigate breathing/heaving correc- vision, automatic, bytes pieces

patterns coupled hardware heart... midnight! everyone stopped lives

phantoms goodbye writers taking note, touch mesmeric songster entering

staying alive uninterrupted import- splay, pause this? place open-holed.

critical argument rational, having trouble suffocates, 2 28k v bodily

functions heartbeat, breathing...is this...is same...on near, corridors

being. sixth revision portal everlasting "is any seeing" thinks casio

inhalation exhalation gaia human

Triple

Triple

http://www.alansondheim.org/triple.mp3 for Murat and Karen

three track open-holed flute including buzzes, trills, exhalings,

pops, glissandi, whispers, voicings, flutterings, hummings,

singings, breathings, throatings, mouthings, fingerings, cross-

fingerings, open-fingerings, closed fingerings, partial-closings,

partial-openings, clatterings, clickings, squealings, squawkings,

titterings, twitterings, counter-pointings, srutis, swayings,

dispersing, combining, creating, forgetting, repeating, ending,

beginning, alap, bols, taksim, scales, maqamat, pursings,

inhalings, harmonics, harmonizings, and whistlings, for your

pleasure, your laughter, your tears, your cries and murmurs,

your weepings, your assessments, your happy tears, your happy

cries, your happy weepings ...

birds of mcm

Alan Sondheim

birds of modern media

http://www.alansondheim.org/birdsofmcm.mp3

when i was substituting in the modern culture and media department
at brown, i'd listen to the birds outside the windows of the office
where i slept; i made some recordings. now, thanks to chris diasparra,
i have an open-holed flute and this is the result. and i just saw in
fact the anna halprin documentary and there were birds everywhere in
it. and i just remembered the vultures and hawks overhead here, and
as foofwa and i were walking to or from an event, there were herons
overhead. and i remember that all this beauty will disappear for me
and that my playing can't do it justice, not even the breathing of it
nor the nervousness of repetition and the miracles of losing scales
just at the moment when, teetering, i am wheeling in the sky, the
earth tilting below me, and, my feathers are ruffled, the nighthawk
begins his descent with an other music, for mate and for love, for
the uncanny pleasure of flying

Birdsofmcm

www.alansondheim.org

· · Share · a few seconds ago

Prisonhouse of Age

Prisonhouse of Age

Something has to be said about age and ageism, which is so pervasive in

our culture, that we're held down, tied up, unable to move. I'm told I

look good for my age; that I play like a much younger person. In a

performance I hear that a dancer, who died at 68, was in the middle of the

end of her life. A friend says that his uncle dying at the age of 72, is

quite old. Grandfathers and grandmothers on tv always look to retirement

and playing with the kids. Television ads are increasingly aimed towards

drugging us, those over 60 say, because of a variety of ailments we don't

have. We're frightened of falling and not getting up. We're no longer

mid-career artists, but a dying generation. We're waiting for the end.

Friends say that now we're waiting for us to die off, that every day

brings news of new deaths and again this isn't true. The rhetoric is

hurtful and isn't meant to be hurtful. The rhetoric is made out of bits

and pieces of the 'natural' progression from birth to death. We're the

AARP generation. We're the baby boomers are are demanding to suck social

welfare dry. We don't do anything. We're not worth listening to. We're

hippies and repeat the 60s. We just love listening to 60s music which

formed us. We're part of the social welfare state. Some of us who fought

in Vietnam are an embarrassment. Some of us who didn't are an

embarrassment. On tv we're told that 'all we have is our stories.'

If this happened to anyone at any age, the result would be unbearable.

We're not taken seriously. We're all waiting for us to pass away. We have

to prove ourselves repeatedly. We're the result of hidden prejudice. We're

on the way to dementia. We're on the way to Alzheimer's. We're told our

short-term memory isn't what it used to be. In the most well-meaning areas

of popular culture, we're forgetful. Our bones are weak and ready to

fracture. We have to exercise more. Our family has to be everything. We're

not eligible for grants and for jobs. We're eligible to die and the sooner

we do that, the less the embarrassment. In fact embarrassment is the key

to everything; we embarrass others. If we're sexual it's a joke. If we

remarry it's a joke. If we refuse our assigned place in the family it's a

joke.

I first ran into ageism at the age of 30, applying for a job as editor of

an art mag in Los Angeles. I've always been sensitive to it because I've

always been told I look and act 'younger than my age.' Now the violence of

age, an assigned number, a number we can't do anything about - almost but

not quite like the color of our skin - is foregrounded. I get turned down

for jobs because of it, illegal but of course there are always ways around

it.

My own feeling? If I can't do something now, just as if I couldn't do

something at 20, then so be it; I don't belong where doing that thing is

impossible. But otherwise, leave me alone, judge me on what I make, what I

say, and leave goddamn age out of it. Don't call me a generation and don't

tell me my best days are behind me. Don't tell me I'm in my golden years.

This may all seem minor, idiotic, to you. You have no idea, at least in

the US, how pervasive this is. There are pockets of resistance - Eyebeam

for example, where I was resident until a week or two ago, is a healthy

exception. But almost everywhere, the codes are in place, they're

suffocating. I'm offered seats on the subway - because of age, not because

I need them. People condescent, smile at me, since apparently I'm no

longer sexual, have no desires, know my place. I'm told I'm a child again,

that the elderly are child-like. I'm told I'm living on borrowed time. I'm

told there's not much time left. I'm told I should be grateful. I'm told I

have a loving family. I'm told my grandchildren are my future. I'm told my

children are my future. I'm told I have no future.

I'm told about generations, that I'm of this or that generation, that it's

now the turn of a new generation. I'm told what our generation thinks and

I can't recognize that. I'm told repeatedly that we were born before the

digital age, that we think differently. The fact this isn't true, none of

this is true, with people I know and I'm sure millions of people in this

country, is irrelevant. I'm lectured _to._ I'm talked _to._ I'm taken out

of the realm of instrumental thinking, consigned to a real which is a

total mirage, told to act my age and behave myself. People don't tell me

to retire, but they assume I'm headed that way. My theoretical work is

assumed dated, somewhere back probably with existentialism or Bateson. My

mind is supposedly elderly. Am I repeating myself? Did I forget something

here? Should I send a birthday gift? Should I ask a grandson or daughter

to drive for me, since I'm constantly running off the road? Should I start

preparing for the end? Should I become a consumer of culture, preferably

old tv shows and books, instead of a producer? It's remarkable how well I

look for my age! It's remarkable I haven't had any major medical problems

yet, but wait, they're just around the corner. Do I have enough money to

do nothing? Should I do nothing? Should I worry about my IRA?

I don't expect this to change, not even with radicalism on the rise among

people I know. But I do want to say this - that when you see someone, at

any age, turning towards senility or depression, you might ask yourself

what happened to that person, how is that person perceived - by his or her

family or friends, by others in the community, by granting organizations

or hiring committees. You might look at studies of enforced helplessness,

you might think for a moment how age, like race, manifests itself today -

age more violently than ever, since we're assumed to be non-productive,

eating away at the very foundations of civil digital society, of

whatever's left of the commons, of the fabric of the sentient city.

What I'm talking about is being called a 'geezer' or 'old geezer' or 'old

man' with all the nastiness that implies. This isn't true of everyone, of

course, but it's miserable enough, that it's true across the board. In the

culture industry, such as it is, you either become blue-chip and/or elder-

statesman or woman, or you sink into oblivion. If I go into a gallery, I'm

immediately sized up in a certain way that parallels the not-so-subtle

hatreds against race in the 1930s. I recognize the violence of that

parallel itself, but there's no other way to describe it. Lyotard called

this kind of situation the differend, and there's been writing on and off

about the stigma that's applicable. We carry a sign on our foreheads, a

sign not of our own making or choosing, but one imposed on us culturally.

Whatever we do or accomplish is under or within the sign. Whatever we say

is already signed, assigned.

I'm sick of this, and this rant, so to speak, is nothing more than an

expression of that sickness. And I'm well aware that nothing will be done

about it, although things _can_ be done about it. I'm tired of ageist

remarks being 'let slip' accompanied by apologies. We have no slogans like

"we're here and we're queer." We're speechless. We're kept speechless.

We're irrelevant, just as this protest is irrelevant.

In the _foreground_ there are all the inadvertent and well-meaning

comments, advertising, stereotypes in the media. In the _background_ there

are concrete decisions being made against us, but 'benevolently' for us.

In the background, Foucauldian power violates the commons. In the back-

ground, the Occupiers don't see age as a problem. In the background,

they're waiting for our deaths, forgetfulnesses, incapacities, hostels -

they're waiting for our silencing. The _they_ is the Heideggarian They,

the They of doxa, the They of the obdurate, idiotic inert. The they is

always well-meaning; the They knows what's best for us.

On and on: This would kill _anyone,_ this misreading, misrecognition,

deprivation, fun-house mirror. Some people can ignore it altogether, most

of us can't. We live within a social order of _continuous violation._ And

there's no way out.

- Alan