the Divine Ms. L...

blood to stone

Tue, 16 Dec 2008 10:40:26 -0800

I remember the color of my mom's skin when I was four. And still have a map of her moles. I remember walking on my dad's back, feeling my heel slide off a knot to the bone. My foot to his arches of a strange mountain range. And my aunt, his sister's, ceramic "cave" on my grandma's coffee table. Sat there in two, once it had broken.

There is something in these cells and how one becomes many. And they eventually decide for themselves. How sometimes they walk away, and may hate you or love you or neither. I think of the thin magic invisible line where they don't work or they do.

Moving Wholeness on the Streets of LA

Mon, 15 Dec 2008 13:24:41 -0800

A year later, this is finally gonna be published. Here's my final.
An embodied look at homelessness in LA and an exploration of a Utopia that would not cast a shadow.

baby baby

Sun, 16 Nov 2008 00:59:58 -0800

I wish I could run up the mountain. But everything is on fire.

red clay

Sun, 28 Sep 2008 23:04:50 -0800

I don't think I was present for most of my childhood. I always seem to believe that I have a good memory. Except for that I can barely remember anything.

Alexithymia

Sun, 07 Sep 2008 20:48:39 -0800

The last few times I've been asked my name, I had the impulse to answer something else.

Mokesha

Fri, 04 Jul 2008 15:46:26 -0800

Acts must be carried through to their completion. Whatever their point of departure, the end will be beautiful. It is only because an action has not completed that it is vile.

~Jean Genet (Thiefs Journal)

I guess that's to say that everyone is on the path, and all roads lead to beauty.

Put in the ground

Thu, 03 Jul 2008 23:07:20 -0800

Life will always be equal parts: poison and joy.
And the more you open to either, you open to both.
You have to drink the poison to feel the joy.
That means there will always be pain, but not always suffering.
Suffering is resistance to pain.
And there will not always be resistance.
Eventually, there will be courage...or exhaustion.

I stopped suffering, and suddenly felt everything.

Put in the ground.

queen of cups

Sat, 08 Mar 2008 20:17:54 -0800

she walked out of the room, calmly this time. As my chest rise and fall. this morning, i realized i was at zero. even in the sunshine, carrying strawberries and greens, there are multiple truths. at first I took money as my value. then I remind myself, I just bought part of a rug. but i should be older, i should know what im doing, and, even though those things are not so I should be able to swing this. For love. it should protect me. for love; these are my secrets.
so, there was no fight tonight. she calmly walked out. maybe it was a coincidence and cold was just byproduct, but it happened in a moment when I couldn't give her what she needed. so, The Hermit: I restore myself to the narrator. The Right to orate my own life. my observer: 2 muse.

my mind is an idiot

Tue, 19 Feb 2008 22:55:42 -0800

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Rhizome/eye of the needle

Fri, 07 Dec 2007 17:20:13 -0800

The little wild flower plant's leaves got twice at big in the rain. They are the same exact shape, just bigger. Plants are cool like that. They grow from the bottom up and from everywhere at once. I saw it as I left to take a run. The air was cool enough to break up the shit in my lungs. I wore my mercury necklace and thought deep thoughts, tasting them like blue blood. Something that could never pass my lips and hit the air. Something running fast and quick like mercury. Something gained speed, shifted shape. something that can slide through the eye of a needle. Wanting to shape-shift. Wanting to move in every direction at once; feeling the necessity if wings.

There is also something about order in movement. structure and sequence, something about gravity and turning the plant to face the sun. This is the most intense time of year. Something about slowness and darkness and earth. And something about speed.

Mercury could be everywhere at once because he was so fast. He was fast enough that there was no space between impulse and action. they are the same to him. and he stays clean and honest because nothing could build up and there could be no comparison: now to then here to there, whatever. I bet he doesn't know what movement is. He wouldn't be able to understand true or false. He just is.

Samuel Beckett

Sat, 17 Nov 2007 18:29:17 -0800

So,
it recently came into awareness that there are possible negative effects from the lack of self-reflexive discourse in dance. LA is the crystallization of the problems: damnit-i-just-want-to-dance, and I-worked-so-hard-for-this-how-dare-you-question-me mentality, partly because dance as an art has become mixed up with dance as commercialism = what sells. This could maybe to a distortion in logic. This could maybe lead to thinking something is okay when it really is not
For example

Santa Anas

Thu, 15 Nov 2007 09:50:17 -0800

The air is dry, but I wake up wet. The body knows.
Inside and outside
are not at odds, just move at different speeds.

signifier/Marzipan

Sat, 20 Oct 2007 08:53:14 -0800

Signifier

what is this?
this thing that is so clear: this thing.
"Thing" say, "thing" that is such a weak word
so who will tell an other?
This thing is here on the tip of your tongue
or, cough it up from the back of your throat
and, awaiting interpretation
can you hold it
quiver in your hand? this thing.
Is it a concrete house in the city?
Is it walking distance from the same day you go everyday?
Is it just enough not to cry
and then more of the same?
or is it something else,
this thing.
Could it be that you lay on the ground
and see the veins of the tree? this thing,
it burst into tears on the freeway
wondering what note finally let it free.
what word on the phone
what bump in the texture of the steering wheel
what wave in the ocean cracked this thing open
which breath, which sigh, which time she cried
this thing

Crash into it

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 13:46:40 -0800

There is more space in us than there is matter. In fact,there is more space in us than there is of us. Really, its all space, right? That is...until we crash into it.

Goes direct.

Sat, 08 Sep 2007 12:30:45 -0800

And so you land in the moment. Naked and shaking and fearless. And thankful and empty and wondering and full. Wound and unwinding. Wounded and worn and pure. And so you land in this moment ever changing.