[NetBehaviour] Nuit

Alan Sondheim sondheim at panix.com
Thu Aug 4 16:48:25 CEST 2022


Nuit

http://www.alansondheim.org/lastlast.jpg

lying on the back of others i never thought this would happen: 
in this world, the Territory is the Map and nothing tells a 
story.

To motto: You have always known everything, death doesn't 
beckon, death _is_ - this is a message to no one; there's no 
recipient; we're all writing the same message; we all know that; 
we won't be around for long; we won't know that for long; we 
know that too.

to write the dead plateaus, the plateaus or plateau of the dead: 
to write nothing. with what? against what grain? what surface 
uncharred?

the char, the shard is the stone, the story, the surface. it is 
bound and boundary. it is the puncture that penetrates the 
plateau, now something much more complex. The Star. The Plateau.

complicit. now the demarcation commences in or out of order, it 
makes no difference. shuffle the aphorisms! give birth to two 
billion dead! one imagines an illuminated plain or plane; 
there's no reason to imagine food or domicile there. nothing 
potable for that matter. nothing around the next corner; there 
aren't any.

my final message: WRITE IN STONE: YOU MAY HAVE A CHANCE. I am 
taking Measure of this Discussion. I will send in a Report. It 
will be specific, especially in the absence of currency. It is 
there I am coming towards you in the fog, almost the thickness 
of thumbs.

*/this is not a story. this has never been a story. "my final 
message" already sounds preposterous. it might mean I'm through 
with you; it might mean I'm through, period. there's nothing 
left of me. that's science fiction, and poor science fiction at 
that. I AM NOT WRITING A TALE. this is a warning from the lip or 
edge of warning, nothing more or less. And you already know 
this; it's trite, repetitious, always has been, you've always 
known. so let it go already. let it go: I'm

*/where the closure, where's the end of \*/*

dirty everywhere and I thought you abandoned me; I set this on 
the monstrance of continuous production and now look what I've 
found, nothing, as if beginning again. Today I heard, where lays 
desires pooled and dried, that by 2050 or so, when I'll be long 
gone, between 2 billion and all of humanity will be extinct. 
there's no going back, there's nothing, no way in or out. and 
our fearless leaders are concerned with occupying MORE 
TERRITORY: THE TERRITORY OF THE DEAD.

word and world are separated by far more than the singular 
letter l standing up or standing in for an already fallen 
warrior. abandonment is the key, but understand: THERE IS NO KEY 
TO SURVIVAL: there is no survival, no key, no lock, no keyhole, 
no lock hole. when i write: ANNIHILATION: TO THE LIMIT: that it 
LITERAL, that is final.

marked sex or murked sex, it is all denouement. think of culture 
and civilization as inertial: they continue, rupture, as they 
always have, weaponry and plague notwithstanding. they do that. 
and the murksex plateau is the sign of the final Lamentation. 
and you must Know and Understand that.

The Plateau is NOT "murksex" or sexuality: it is torn and 
desiccated bodies, absent bodies, vermin body, starving bodies, 
whatever might count for inconceivable thirst. that is what it 
is what it is. the Puncture used to be the Plateau or the Wound 
of the Plateau; it is neither, in this world: it is 
Neitherness.the recompense of death is uncleanliness as a matter 
of course and full acceptance. that is what it is that it is. 
[it is hard to breathe here. do you feel it. do you feel. what 
it is - what _it_ is - is the difficulty of breath. it is all 
gone, comprehend: it is all gone.rattled and broken, null zero 
point characterized by 1. outside there are gunshots and 
squealing brakes. we are tuned to this. the root of shattered is 
shard. the root of shard is shattered. whatever is there, 
scattered on the ground is fundamentally unassembleable.

I apologize for my language which barely coheres in the heat. 
I would give a finger for something to drink. I remember 
liquid."broken limbs dead eyes i will join you now" you write. 
you have no idea what you're asking for, what is at the site, 
what is in your sight. not a word of it. dead eyes aren't 
mine. they endure: where: among the two billion dead. among 
the twelve billion dead coming alone fine, down the road, just 
over there. darkness becomes them. the sun already on fire. 
what I am saying to my living breath: it is imminent. to 
repeat "now now now" is to repeat "now" it is to do nothing: 
Listen!: To repeat Now is to do nothing. Now yet now do you 
understand? Two billion dead. The rest of us en suite. The 
rest following the rest.

without site there is no illumination. without illumination 
there is nothing. this is inconceivable! Do you realize I have 
been saying this repeatedly forever? Longer! : The Writing is 
NOT on the Wall; the Wall is on the Writing. to comprehend - 
to apprehend: Sex requires energy, requires barriers, 
entrances, invitations, plateaus. Why this History? Why this 
History always entangling Others? / The Others too weak to 
reply, to think or signal, think thin signals, think nothing 
at all.

_


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