[NetBehaviour] Plague America Journey

Alan Sondheim sondheim at panix.com
Sat Mar 14 15:37:14 CET 2020



Plague America Journey

http://www.alansondheim.org/Omahaorgan.jpg
http://www.alansondheim.org/Omahaorgan.mp4

We're on a journey through America. We'll avoid crowds, stay on the
highways. We stop at forlorn clean motels. We're ghosting ourselves.
Plague America isn't really plague, isn't really coronavirus;
plague America is the fear, the hatreds, the horizon of violence
and despair, the lies and brutality of our government. There are
always bright spots and wonders and the land will survive. I'm busy
calculating our chances.

The landscape spreads out here in amazing beauty. It reminds me of
the obdurate nature of reality, however defined, that the earth and
sky are _there._ And not _there_ for the taking, not even _there_
for bearing witness.

The Missouri flows. Sound is everywhere here and everywhere, where
you are, anechoic chambers notwithstanding. Your heart is noisy,
your veins and arteries slosh in rhythms, your brain pulses with
electrical energy. The sky is full of electric shrapnel resonating
everywhere. The clouds have their own languaging, mixed with the
murmuring of dust and shear velocities of winds and precipitations.
This continues for millennia. Dinosaurs heard it.

The organ here is a carapace, discharged from a church, now sitting
in a shop waiting for a buyer for a hundred dollars. It's electri-
cal and breathes. I felt privileged to play it for a minute or two.
There were sounds everywhere in the shop, resonate with its
basement location. The vacuum motor itself was silent. Everything
rustles. This is only a stopover; I feel we're still hurtling
westward, ending somewhere in the States which are shutting down,
one after another. We're living traceroutes, routing where we can,
as if riding the antiquated bangpaths of packets still traveling
furiously and exponentially around the world. Somehow it all feels
downhill from here.

Not plague, but plunge America journey. I wonder at strangers upon
us, their own journeys, their own abilities to carry virality
elsewhere. It all seems placid on the road, however, the car
running perfectly. Tomorrow, Denver hopefully with grace. The
silence of the sound is deafening.



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