the plea

what will save us, Jennifer asks, how shall we survive, where can we turn,
what is to become of us, what is our future, what will you see when I die,
what will become of you, what will become of the species, where has our
history gone, what happens to our dust, our molecules, our atoms, what
happens to our forms, our records, our data, our speech, the recordings of
our speech, the preservation of the recordings of our speech, what happens
to the prions and viruses, the phages and the bacteria, the parasites,
what happens to our sun and our planets and our lives, to whom shall we be


I realize I'm writing to myself, why not? We saw Lady Gaga on TV, wonderful! We're starting working with Foofwa in the Project Space tomorrow. The horrors of the past year are broken down by the artificial barrier of the new! 

Seeing Lady Gaga, I thought, this is not only the real art and technology / new media, but it's also inside the computer - the glow-works of Times Square were unbelievable, indescribable. I could theorize this material to death, but I was really in awe for once.

Now we have to do the same starting tomorrow, welcome Foofwa, along with Mark Skwarek, Azure of course, Chris Diasparra, later Slava, we'll see what we can do!


what i remembered when it was so poor out

what i remembered when it was so poor out
i could not think and my body wandered
somewhere a link faltered and hindered
and cauterized my throat and thought throughout

there was no semblance or semblance fraught alone
meandering murmurs mourned rooms dark and fallow
in plummeting bodies and faces skewed and sallow
and hollowed among mounds of earth and burning bone

hallowed they were in sutured hands and ears
haunting loomed and muffled clutched at voices
senseless and seamless depressed of humbled choices
and dense thatched strands stranding and embracing fears

memory what i remembered buried borne and lost and thrown
among sounds of human ghosts but not their own

People: Alan Sondheim
Research: Sound
Tags: memory, mourning, Life, death, ghosts, noh


when all is accepted, when she lives after my time
the video surrounded by the others, my self,
the video which is a gift from myself to the other,
and the video which is the seeing of some of life
in the world, among the worlds beyond

for Azure
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From: Monika Weiss <>

To: Alan Sondheim <>

On Fissure


I started Eyebeam as a resident on Thursday, receiving a keycard. On Friday, I talked with Marko and found the card didn't work; I would have come in this weekend otherwise - I was hoping to work with Jackson and his cube. This afternoon I received a call from my brother who said that my father was dying, my aunt had cancer. Earlier in the week we had ceiling leaks in our place in Brooklyn, from Hurricane Irene; they were in the middle of the room and created a mess. It's been a rough week. My recent work has been concerned with the relationship of the virtual to the real - in particular the messy virtual, the way that wounding or pain or death within the virtual resonates with us. Death is inescapable, in spite of what Wired magazine says, and in dying we are for the first and last time absolutely, unutterably, alone; the journey is not a journey but a finitude we own for the split second before we descend into oblivion.

Shared by reBlog @ Eyebeam

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