of many useless emails I infrequently send as shout-outs to long-losts, i like this one:
is this you?
nine months later i discover i still have your email address, if this is the one you are using .... hello from new york city, where i still am, yet dancing. projects yes, company - pending, choreography - ever in process, website forthwith. saving the world one cell at a time. i should put that on a t-shirt. that, along with "I cried for Kong", a statement that came up more than once from friends whilst watching the Oscars on Sunday night. I have others: "what the fuck you!" (overhead in a chinatown peddler's brawl), "--the fuh?" (for all those audiences new to contemporary dance -- regular post-show comment), "define gig" (for all us wannabes wanna-being in pick-your-own metropolitan-mess).
This is a random email, but I hope it brings you equal light and life as I'm sure you are continuing to give in your own daily travels/rambles. Don't forget: a line is two opposing ends waiting to meet in a circle.
Yours,
MEL
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
fell off the back of a truck on my way to palo alto recovered from the coma thank God but had to go under hypnosis to remember that i had a blog
WOW.
What month is it?
What day?
What year?
Can it be ... 2006?
Nearly mid-March?
Can it be?
Can I be?
I am so close to normalcy in my head that I can barely recognize the necessary scrambling for air that is evidenced by this journalling.
Yet in other lights I am in exactly the same place, six months deferred: still student, still single, still without full-time employment. Oh fuck. Who wants full-time anything right now anyway. As long as the dreams keep flickering in the predawn haziness of trustfundedness. Let the daylight of financial autonomy wait for my Romeo to first jump into bed before we squirm beneath sheets pierced by morning sun. I am so thoroughly alive and awake in my slumber.
Self-acceptance is a difficult thing. I don't know why I am fighting for wage labor, except for the guilty pleasure of walking out of the office by the clock when full-timers have to stay with the client roster of another two hours. No, I get to walk with pride amongst the school children, the homeless, the vagrants, the mid-Jamba-juice pre-hair-salon trophies and their nursing (elsewhere) children. I get to walk with common aimlessness into the throngs, wondering constantly when is the next time I get to eat, and what that might be.
I understand that with my active lifestyle, I need to be eating. I understand it's winter. But I begin to wonder how long it must continue that so much of my brain space is spent thinking about what to eat. "All my life," seeing that I am a constantly renewing, cell-generating, non-vegetative human being, is still sometimes difficult for me to accept.
Instead of these wry, pointless musings, I should probably be using the opportunity of being back on my blog to usefully list the pros and cons of various decisions currently on the agenda, or to strategize them all to fit within the context of each other, only accomplishable through self-discipline and God's desires burning themselves in legible English onto my white walls.
... Dancing for JoAnna. Not dancing for JoAnna. Working on my solo. Making myself a website to promote myself. What creative product/performance to make for Sue and Duleesha's wedding. Staying in New York. Moving home. Experimenting in Europe. Travelling to South America. Learning Spanish. Reinvigorating Polish. Applying for graduate school. Trying to reinvent myself as Asian. Forgetting that, and accepting once and for all that I am somewhere else in my past lives a European theorist and heroic cowgirl and Taoist sage, all of which have manifested in my current incarnation and result in my need to live forever in self-exile in the land of limbo, Fat America. ..... to love Jose. to not love Jose. to keep pretending that's a choice. to keep pretending the patient pursuit of dreams will actually leave me in a better place after their climactic end than i was in the first place. to keep running myself in circles. to not keep running myself in circles. to pretend like that's a choice. to keep saying that i'm "pretending." i'm pretending that I'm pretending. semantic ritual aside: i'm actually happy with how i'm living my life now because i've stopped comparing it to some imaginary life that i somehow screwed up on and failed to achieve. yay!
so now here is my italian, note: napolitan roommate to use my computer, typing at a significantly slower rate than I do. I take care of everything in the house, including all bill payments and rent, which she returns her share of to me via cash that she withdraws from ATMs citywide, $200 a day at a time (and, I suppose, sometimes stores beneath her mattress). in return for my logistical management, I get to make the effort to be civil when sometimes I want to be alone but otherwise not have to be more friendly than I have to on certain occassions when I'm tired to speaking slowly for her comprehension, or when I'm tired of having to listen to all her romantic stories. I also get to use her coffee pot. I also get to listen to more smooth jazz on the radio than I can sometimes stomach, but I also get private lessons in jazz pirouette in our living room (i spot Spain on the world map on our wall ... because it's right there at eye level, and because, well, part of my dream cycle has to do with spain and one man living in it right now). I got to watch Il postino with live commentary from a real Napolitan. I get a happy "Hey girl!" when I walk through the door. i get good energy, a great smile, and immense positivity. I get to learn how to be with other people. And the cynicism starts to fade ....
as the days unfold ..........
What month is it?
What day?
What year?
Can it be ... 2006?
Nearly mid-March?
Can it be?
Can I be?
I am so close to normalcy in my head that I can barely recognize the necessary scrambling for air that is evidenced by this journalling.
Yet in other lights I am in exactly the same place, six months deferred: still student, still single, still without full-time employment. Oh fuck. Who wants full-time anything right now anyway. As long as the dreams keep flickering in the predawn haziness of trustfundedness. Let the daylight of financial autonomy wait for my Romeo to first jump into bed before we squirm beneath sheets pierced by morning sun. I am so thoroughly alive and awake in my slumber.
Self-acceptance is a difficult thing. I don't know why I am fighting for wage labor, except for the guilty pleasure of walking out of the office by the clock when full-timers have to stay with the client roster of another two hours. No, I get to walk with pride amongst the school children, the homeless, the vagrants, the mid-Jamba-juice pre-hair-salon trophies and their nursing (elsewhere) children. I get to walk with common aimlessness into the throngs, wondering constantly when is the next time I get to eat, and what that might be.
I understand that with my active lifestyle, I need to be eating. I understand it's winter. But I begin to wonder how long it must continue that so much of my brain space is spent thinking about what to eat. "All my life," seeing that I am a constantly renewing, cell-generating, non-vegetative human being, is still sometimes difficult for me to accept.
Instead of these wry, pointless musings, I should probably be using the opportunity of being back on my blog to usefully list the pros and cons of various decisions currently on the agenda, or to strategize them all to fit within the context of each other, only accomplishable through self-discipline and God's desires burning themselves in legible English onto my white walls.
... Dancing for JoAnna. Not dancing for JoAnna. Working on my solo. Making myself a website to promote myself. What creative product/performance to make for Sue and Duleesha's wedding. Staying in New York. Moving home. Experimenting in Europe. Travelling to South America. Learning Spanish. Reinvigorating Polish. Applying for graduate school. Trying to reinvent myself as Asian. Forgetting that, and accepting once and for all that I am somewhere else in my past lives a European theorist and heroic cowgirl and Taoist sage, all of which have manifested in my current incarnation and result in my need to live forever in self-exile in the land of limbo, Fat America. ..... to love Jose. to not love Jose. to keep pretending that's a choice. to keep pretending the patient pursuit of dreams will actually leave me in a better place after their climactic end than i was in the first place. to keep running myself in circles. to not keep running myself in circles. to pretend like that's a choice. to keep saying that i'm "pretending." i'm pretending that I'm pretending. semantic ritual aside: i'm actually happy with how i'm living my life now because i've stopped comparing it to some imaginary life that i somehow screwed up on and failed to achieve. yay!
so now here is my italian, note: napolitan roommate to use my computer, typing at a significantly slower rate than I do. I take care of everything in the house, including all bill payments and rent, which she returns her share of to me via cash that she withdraws from ATMs citywide, $200 a day at a time (and, I suppose, sometimes stores beneath her mattress). in return for my logistical management, I get to make the effort to be civil when sometimes I want to be alone but otherwise not have to be more friendly than I have to on certain occassions when I'm tired to speaking slowly for her comprehension, or when I'm tired of having to listen to all her romantic stories. I also get to use her coffee pot. I also get to listen to more smooth jazz on the radio than I can sometimes stomach, but I also get private lessons in jazz pirouette in our living room (i spot Spain on the world map on our wall ... because it's right there at eye level, and because, well, part of my dream cycle has to do with spain and one man living in it right now). I got to watch Il postino with live commentary from a real Napolitan. I get a happy "Hey girl!" when I walk through the door. i get good energy, a great smile, and immense positivity. I get to learn how to be with other people. And the cynicism starts to fade ....
as the days unfold ..........
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
