the more

[Alan Sondheim]

the more


well...
opening to the most recent layering of the world,

current Kyoko Date imports into Korea,
cry from Diki, but even later at night, when I do deep sleep for a moment
well...

_hinge._
packets

cations -
don't. The stories are developing in unforeseen directions; the texts have
salon-style within them, each author holding hir own. _Jump_ tags placed

night with nothing undone, everything ready, as if there were a gaping maw

Date, Now Thu Sep  9 01:40:56 EDT 1999, it's as if I'm losing time, not
that it's beginning to burn out,
the 10th.

There's been a hurricane, flooding
nerve-wracking exhaustion

carapace...
where the water was
totally obsessive...
the conversations...

I absolutely cannot _distinguish_ between self, mind, brain, body, and
planet...

I can't continue seeing double, hearing badly, stumbling around, having my
other - the robustness of the world, given the
breath away.

just have woods and my
example...
still.

sondheim  ttyp6    sondheim.dialup. Wed Nov  3 02:34   still logged in

vast and moving shadows of leaves at 4 in the morning on the wall across
sexual organs and god forbid (and most believe in god) intercourse is
first.

cloth. I wait for the angry sun. I fall to the floor, not tatami but sad
tending towards infinity -
that somehow the output gets warped, placed in one or another direction,

ballet on the laptop and shooting off it with the hi8, then transferring
just like a dream is forced from neural noise, thinking perhaps make
everywhere, i live with death,

images against a very flattened and somewhat hysteric to-be-determined
air-trees and rivers, all the air-creatures of this or any other earth.

here, we're filming ballet, azure and me on the floor, she in primadonna
time, keeping the rhythm go go go, tomorrow using the blind girl poems
helps
days, and the dreams are always getting the better of me,
ecstatic, deportment, within and without, haven't yet come to grips with
presence,

and the sliding of symbols and
candles...

edges, wearing-down, tending themselves towards issues of sliding or
thought thought
in deed
alive
think I would be perfectly happy dying while fucking. I would go to heaven
largely alone and hello hello hello. So was reading today a book on the
noise.

celebrate that; I'm proud of what I do, more than I let on; I try not to
see it completely neglected, swept under the rug so to speak.

worry...
around and it made it seem as if literature had _meaning_ in the world at
passing things on.

thrilled with that - Doctor Leopold K., Nikuko, and the Male Dancer will
go away...
missability...
more.

that's gone, that languaging, referencing, the clink of those cups, that
has been...

occurs on the periphery, always a doubt, something awry, not quite
every other, and I am more and more convinced we are ghosts here,
imaginary.

mood.
how, even with such, including computer glitches, hackes, lights out
out.

Tue Feb 29 23:58:26 EST 2000


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