1.
Sometimes I really just feel like the sweet girl, breathing between the 2 central points of 2 breathing, calm men on either side of me they are sitting and so patient. I feel the impatient people in me from time to time. I told Asher last night about how I watch myself move through life, am okay with having a constantly shifting identity and truth values, belief systems even, I have to be okay with the way I am. When I see and name these things I step outside of them. When I step outside there is movement. When I am watching myself mistrust my consciousness because I know the nature of consciousness––faulty because constructed––constructable, I am most like myself. I am myself when I am moving through something. When I'm receiving a compliment or making my way. The full moon shocked me. 2 strangers spoke to me today.
2.
Sometimes I feel so lovely it scares me. I use my soft eyes: those that are missing you all the time that are listening for dead ghosts and count old people as among the sentient beings I at one time wanted to save. More than anything. You are rubbing off on me when you rub me like that. My voice has been raspy but my heart is mostly open. My legs do hurt. I'm raking it all in. Spending time with children and running away from trends. Although my earlobe is splitting from my head. What do you think of me, that I am writing this now? Realization: When I see, when I let the world fall into my eyes there is nuance in my movement because it is particular to my present surroundings. My spine is caused when I use my eyes.
3.
Arthur Russell: An artist who meant something to kindness, gentleness, loneliness.
4.
Show me the. Show me you. I have the body I gave myself. I feel this urge to binge when I see an opportunity to binge. I am learning to stop seeing everything as an opportunity. Just your slow little. Catching at the edge of me. All the gestures in the world make a single gesture at the interstice of this place and it's new. I sat down. You beckoned without moving. "The human will is the reason I went on meds." To tomorrow, and everything I avoid, I think. I long to strip myself of all specificity and respond. I can't write about my longing because its object is lacking. Just slumped in the corner like a childless mother. Pathetic. The work is coming to be in my time. My particular time. Not yet in my body. My mind a spacious entryway curtainless window of mine.
5.
Hi-lo dance
6.
When you try to thing, do an thing impossible, you must've been a particular kind of person. Yvonne Rainer's breasts. Yvonne Rainer's waist. My never lover's face. "Dream people." I dream of people. That are richer than me, wearing lighter clothes. I would sit on the floor feeling so much tenderness and affection for you. Told me trickling and vulnerable how xyz you xyz about xyz. X being me, y being me, z being me. I have 3 months to make the piece. Is it the right kind of time?
The choreography is line. It is a logical carrying structure. Conditions create roles which interpenetrate our actions. The dancing activity appears upon request. With intention we abstract, contract with meaning, subtract abstraction, subtract contraction, extract subtraction, remove meaning, remove remove.
7.
Dance may reveal something of one's basic attitude toward life and form. I'm working with some proposals Yvonne Rainer has made. I feel akin to her. When I see a person engaging with a codified form I see a person more clearly. In their effort they disclose themselves, they make visible unseen forces like desire, intention, failure, triumph. It recalls salvation. Dance is a saving force and I am happy if others can have an experience like it. Is this then a selfish desire? In attempting to execute choreography one reveals something extraordinary, superhuman of themselves. We transcend our ordinary way of being in the world when we dance. We are more sensitive, committed and perfect.
8.
Sometimes I see an old man and my throat fills up with tears. He has a glimmer of once-was, the opposite of expectancy, no entitlement anywhere, he is trusting. In his body as a radical act of resistance, he is carrying what he needs on his back. There is nothing inherently old about him except for his "age." His eyes graze past mine like an ekphrastic cow. At pasture. He is perfect and makes me so emotional.
9.
A couple talking about home
10.
I am very moved by the very young girl. Not 5 years old, maybe 9 or 10. When something magical happens. I'm not quite sure what it is. I see her playing. She is pure play. Or maybe just purity. When she behaves (read: acts) next to an adult, something happens. I get all caught in my throat. It is maybe about the relationship between them, between the intention and reification. It is simply undeniable to see a young girl acting on the world because she acts from the absence of conditioning. She is innocent. She is innocence.
11.
There is a corner of my rumbling that my rumbling cannot touch. I get some sun in my eyes on my new commute and it's like a baptism. An early morning never ceases to feel like the first day of summer camp. The first day in the annex. I've been on the edge of tears several times this week. They stay small because I don't want others to see me crying. Why don't I want that? I'll talk to anything, it seems. My body's systems are aging: this alone could bring me to a new emotion. I'm not a rough-tough person. I'm sensitive and gaseous. Multi-mineral. A little difficult is so easy. So easy can be endlessly difficult. I know silence isn't empty. I am silence's fullness. And the sound that describes it.
12.
You influence my dreams. You affect me. You are so precious to me. The you I don't try to understand. When I experience you, there you are. Carving moments in my cortices. I don't think of things like the presence of absence or opposites or time's incessant flowing. I am those things as you. When I'm you there is no sadness. I'm sadness's trace. You subtle outline. I find everything in you. Remove in. You saw me. I didn't see you. I wrote you in to some time, time. I sat with the tightest Achilles heel. No, the loosest, most mobilized Achilles heel. My measure of vulnerability all maxed out and over-utilized. You can't cut me there, I'll just sense your impulse through the pre-air and evade you with one glamorous turn. You think I like this about myself? You think I want to be this through? I want a normal body. No more airless days.
