crawling on the floor in a patch of light and hair strands hanging. There is light on the strange of hair. The light is bright light. yellow and blue and white light. She is wearing a pink shirt and black leggings. She is shaking and her head is pointing down, now it’s pointed up. she is moving her feet and pointing them and doing a few small push ups and crawling and standing in the shape of a t. now she is a clock winding her arms. and now she is a cross and now she is a dancer in swan lake. and she has a pointed toe like a ballerina and she is moving her head down and it looks like the rest of her body won’t work sort of like someone in pain. and there’s a blue leotard under the pink shirt. i wrote blood accidentally and deleted it. coincidentally i’m on my period. and earlier she and i were talking nonstop and moving nonstop and now she is moving nonstop. i heard her say that she would like to do drugs and get drunk and follow her pleasure. she is spinning and falling into the patch of the light but this time she’s at the lower part of the light and it looks like she’s in the water in a pool or at the beach. and she’s lying on the hot sand and now she’s doing a routine and covering her face from the sun and the window but also she’s dancing with the light and beside the light and for the light. and slowly rolling up. she is rising again and i am anticipating her coming down once she is up. but she’s surprised me because she’s balancing on her knees. yesterday i watched a video of annie baker on youtube talking about movie posters and she mentioned a movie where the filmmaker is unpretentious because he doesn’t watch movies.
She bounces her heels up and down in a small room as chappell roan plays from outside. sh is locomoting around the space using this heels bouncing motion with her hands on her hips. She is traveling the path of light. I feel like this is all so stupid. Very curly and very interpretive this dance. Am I making dance or interpretive dance. She is using her curly hair and using the light in the room to travel a sure path and she is looking at me briefly and walking around nd trying not to smile. God I love this girl so much. She knows something about the intentionality of the gaze. Her hands sort of look like thy are in fists. She is bouncing herself forward on her hands, catapulted by the balls of her feet. She is traveling all over the place. Where is she going! She is sensitive to the light and the shadows the trees are making. I am using th second person for this. What if I am laying with my head on the ground. My toes are banging the floor like worn hammers. Right then left then right and left at the same time. MY ass moves a bit up . My head is in my hands. I am a bit defeated. I am lifting my ass to b fucked by some imaginary source of light. Maybe the birds outside the window see and like this. My hands now create a rhythm by tapping with my feet banging the ground. The song is like du du du du du dudu dudu duded du du du. IT sounds like wood. I swallow and lift my head so it can turn to the right. I use my arms to lift myself up. I do this every night. This is how I wind down for bed. I like looking at her face because there is always something happening there. She is exactly what she is. There is the sense that I do this every night in my room, only ever alone. Aloneness may be a s tate that she knows well. That aloneness which is distinct from loneliness. No attachment in what I am seeing. In this way I am a true dancer. I was born to be on the stage. I walk around the room looking for something to do to find me. Waiting for something to find me. I walk around my room often like this. I hope the time ends soon. I hope I have an open face when I am witnessing. She walks along the light again wearing white Puma ankle socks. The heels are so low but so secure on this person. She repeats the sequence of walking along the light and shaking her hair and then turning and walking backward along the light. She could do some sort of ritual. Now the hands
she stands with her hands on her hips and he is chewing gum. i want a piece of gum. she’s holding her armpit and maybe her breast. and pivoting and smudging the floor with her bear feet. she is spinning a lot with her ass out and pulling her shirt down and moving slowiy in small jumps across the floor putting her hands on both of the walls with her palms and slowly moving on her tip toes. putting her forehead against the sharp edge of the mirror. head down leg back and out. foot leading her to the other side of the room the rest of her body following her foot. she has her arms up and out, now her finger is poking her other arm pit breast crease. she is hanging down with her arms stretched to the floor, hanging down. i want to get drunk too. she’s moving her arms back and forth. it looked like she was rolling them which reminds me of being a little kid and doing a drum roll for a magician. there’s someone outside the room that said “i don’t mind.” I think this person minds because earlier i was thinking about how i often say the opposite of what i mean. now she is rolling the bottom of her shirt up. her leg is pointed out. she is shaped in a zig zag. she is flipping her hair and bouncing on her knees on the floor. and bouncing her butt. and shaking her head to the ground and shaking her arms and shaking her head and rolling her eyes and sighing. puffing out air. now in an elegant lunge. she is doing half a split. and combing the ground with her arms and throwing her arms through her legs and rubbing the back of her kneck with her hand and curling her fingers.
A couple of jumps backward happened immediately. We start and we don’t really stop do we. slapping of the stomach. a couple steps then a couple of meandering steps around then some leg lifts and a unified position then more lumbering steps in one direction. Why am I so fascinated by this? Trio a is just one thing after another. I go into my analytical mind. The judging mind. She is missing something from the sequence. She has situated it in the room. Why is this fucking dance so much like ballet. she is resetting and trying to get this thing right. she lands on her right leg and the bottom most button of her dress strains itself. She drops to the floor with some drama. Her movement is stable and young and unconcerned with itself. It is like watching the first time. IT is dancing and it moves me to emotion. She starts over again trying to get it right. I love her so much when she is doing this. I love them all when they do this dance. I love the steps and the approximation and the commitment and the classical look of struggle and success. I love to watch the failure and the winning and the rightness and wrongness of it all. I would never want to edit that out. Will people find this humiliating? Maybe. I want these people to know that I love them. There is something about the repetition and intention to perfect a sequence of movement that is so like me. So like dance. It is dance. We exit and enter. Each time she does it differently. There was a cockroach in the corner that freaked me out. We will continue working on Trio A. I want them to feel like they have accomplished something. I wonder what this story is about. She is lonely? Why is she lonely? She is one of th most talkative and generous people I know. I love the way she is trying to perfect this spinning movement. She does not react to her confusion or lack of information. Her performance of Trio A radiates from a core only hers. I want to be specific and clear in all ways in my life and love all the time forever.
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