Sat Jun 1 09:30:12 EDT 2020 http://www.alansondheim.org/myname.jpg Three weeks ago I wrote this, thinking about the pandemic. It's created live in bash on Ubuntu on Windows and I'm already blurred about the date, the time, the content, the flatness of the text, the abject material within it, its relation to despair, compassion, exhaustion, and everything that begins to deteriorate thinking, learning, being half in, half out of the twilight world; we can only hope for new dawns, already receding, the glimmer of shadows on the horizon, the negative effect/affect of the new photography. How was I thinking this, thus? How was I, Who was I then, Who now? Beginning the difficult work of erase-rebuild The question already built into the framework of the program, from a time when erase-rebuild might have been thought something attainable, as if there were being or Being integrated with something, but in reality already deteriorating, turning to dust. Then the first long part of the now-forgotten text from three weeks ago: Thu Jun 25 00:34:50 EDT 2020 the sso unutterable inconceivable none. the dead lamp deadlamp is the sun would you know. inconceivable molcular formations in a billion years. invisible to everyone. i weep by the shores only now. now. now.Thu Jun 25 00:46:12 EDT 2020 Thu Jun 25 00:47:12 EDT 2020 And then the sectional headline, as if there were sex, tools, well there is sex somewhere on the planet perhaps? Tools, what would constitute that, what leverage might move a rock or sky, what glass would magnify a virus or display the depth narratives of daily statistics? armor Working on sex tool bolted fieldwork Again, I must have continued to think, respond, consider, rethink, develop, the sun beats down now outside, not safe to go there, not at least at this point as we head towards the mid-90s Fahrenheit, who was Fahrenheit, was there someone, of course not like Centigrade, with the numerical prefix, 100 or 1/100 or something like that, something graded, the temperature? And then this long text below, unclear, all lower ascii, the commonality or commons I work within. Or work inside of, no the expression "work in" seems to cover all the possible forks here, except the depths of the employed programs? Thu Jun 25 00:34:50 EDT 2020 falling apart. there are these odd spaces here, the blues. desire dies when the body does. other bodies come close come close pick up body carry it to them dissolves redbrown liquid clear fluid pastel.Thu Jun 25 00:36:13 EDT 2020 chosen as if something has fallen. there's nothing there, what falls is gravity. do you understand? what falls is gravity.Thu Jun 25 00:36:56 EDT 2020 your posture becomes you for a moment that you have always already forgotten. bones and shards, red dust, murksex dried semen or blood pooled somewhere a castle singson the plateaus, serrations. uncomfortable as if no place to sit or stand or die. you ONLY WRYTE about death when you're alive, she said. you don't even do that then when.Thu Jun 25 00:38:55 EDT 2020 discomfort for a moment then i'm gone. nothing remains. my last sight of you. you will move on, see other things. i will see nothing. not even absence. i cannot imagine this. sometimes i turn to him or her to say something whisper speak. sometimes i collapse pray for death. not this half life. not that half death something complete. then i think: to be alive is to be completely. in and out top to bottom left to right south to north. what more or lessThu Jun 25 00:40:51 EDT 2020 i cannot write death when i have not experienced death. i cannot experience death and return for welcome news. no news is sorrow news. no news is always already gone, seeps inside of one like a virus telling less than clock time. Thu Jun 25 00:42:00 EDT 2020 i cannot stand this now, only later will you remember this.Thu Jun 25 00:42:15 EDT 2020 my tears are soldered to my body Thu Jun 25 00:43:18 EDT 2020 returned as gift for you. the now. no, the Thu Jun 25 00:44:51 EDT 2020 nowThu Jun 25 00:47:19 EDT 2020 Thu Jun 25 00:47:19 EDT 2020 This memory ends here, is it a memory, something else? Does writing always appear from another universe, insert itself here and there in our illiterate world? Can we read? Is there anything to read? Did I write this? And what time? My name? Sat Jul 18 09:29:08 EDT 2020 Sat Jul 18 09:29:15 EDT 2020 Was that part of the next? My name? _______________________________________________ NetBehaviour mailing list NetBehaviour@lists.netbehaviour.org https://lists.netbehaviour.org/mailman/listinfo/netbehaviour
