Theory Girl

She doesn't believe in shooting stars. But she believes in shoes and cars. Her job is to have big boobs, and to speak eloquently of things. Her eyes flit and dangle as you talk to her. At bottom her nature is good and honest, although she may push back against notions of nature, providence, depth, etc. She is at once totally glamorous and completely unsheathed. I barely think about myself when I'm with her. I am just thinking of her when I am thinking of her. Every week she slays down. Even wearing camo. Abstract concepts are afraid of her. She reifies, and we watch. Perfumed frenchly and sloshing in skin, a lock of hair neither damaged nor new stoops to our level. From her we learn things about being-in-the-world and Kim Kardashian, Jacobin politics and who what being when where, and why. From her we learn why.

DHL

I tried the zeitgeist

They sent me back

My dancers

My dancers aren't even dancers. They're not mine. They're mucal and homonymic, like advertisements, alternative pronunciations. They are my friends.

August Incantates

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.

Pop song phenomenology
Hi-lo dance

Hi-lo pass

Remixology

Remix phenomena

Cult classicism

Cult classism

Postmodern dance

Bootlegs, copies

"Because of the internet, there are no more copies, only bootlegs." (Seth Price)

No-dance

Pedestrian

Virtuoso

Friends that are girls

People become other people

Rock music

Noise, music

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 man selling alcohol
A couple talking about home

Mysterious girl

Avoiding girls

Birds flew

Hairy sand defeating purposes

2 performers

Many enjoy you

Your curtains will be yours

When you rode in the car and cursed your genes a shyness grew in a further back corner, gapingly.

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. 

July 29

 I often think people have been doing exactly what they’re doing forever.

I mean, I often assume people have been doing exactly what they’ve been doing for a long time. 

At one point the best side of my face became the other side of my face. It happened so quickly, almost beneath the speed of observation; however, given my training, I noticed as soon as I woke up. Yes, one of my eyes had become a different shape, the lid acquiring a new collection of folds, throwing into question everything I thought was true about the symmetry of my face and the requisite actions for looking beautiful in two-dimensional images. I am still readjusting to my new reality. 

People tell me I’m perfect for this role. When they say this, I have no idea what they’re talking about. I liked a bunch of Agnès B listings on Ebay and woke up to a flurry of offers from various sellers. Why would I pay $170 for an Agnès B Louise Bourgeois collaboration artist T-shirt? I know why. I wanted to buy a book valued at $900 because in my mind it was priced at $30 and maybe the bookseller would give me a discount. People tell me I’m a good fit for this role. 

Shelley tells me there is no know, only knew. I think of availability and then simplicity, or is it the other way around? 

(What Maja and I Discovered About) Death and Disappearance 3/14/24

(What Maja and I Discovered About) Death and Disappearance 

3/14/24

• Death is something the body does.
• Disappearing is always of an object. 
• The self becomes an object when it:  
• judges                    

                                                    upends
                                  remembers

• Both are related to patience. 
• [ Found myself with tears remembering Colin’s questioning me––Why do you live? What keeps you here? ] A wondering mind is neither subject nor object.
• Finding death and disappearance in what’s already always there.
• Disappearance is freedom from the past. Death is freedom from the future. 
• Disappearing isn’t separate from appearing. Disappearance appears in relation to presence as absence. Disappearance can happen on a spectrum, “a circular scale.” 
• Death is related to drama, giving up. 
• Dying is alive; dead is dead. 

Here is Heaven

A vast underground system

A vat of potted ingrown hairs obliterated to plastic in an air fryer left on for the duration of electricity

A network of therapeutic experiences subsumed under the guise of a wellness spa

Nothing bad happens here

Ruin being very close to transformation

Movement happens in one direction

Sensations are projected upon technical planes of composition, materials ascend toward sensation, material becomes sensation:

    Drivingly chug forward on the right foot before catching the weight on the left foot flatly allowing the right heel to kickstand the rest of the headier weight before driving the left fist behind to cause the abdomen to throw the entire body into an exalted preparation for a jump that opens itself to the back of the room, the left palm open and right hand reacting to the melodic air, the monophonic refrain––

All of this happens in one direction

Everyone is specific, and this is ethical

A balmy breeze blows through your outstretched hand

Untrodden and unchewed your hand

Your hand which is also our hand

A beautiful lesbian takes your order

As you settle into your personalized experience

All creatures are willing to wait that intractable duration

For your eyes to become more listening than thinking

Your whimsy is lauded and has broken into the contemporary art market

You have an assistant who is in a happy and stable relationship and has never once thought of fucking you

Your hair is white, becoming that way at one point in time

All of your friends were born

And exist now, with you

The door to your house opens automatically using sensors tuned to your scent

You can turn on and off at will your pheromones

Desire coexists peacefully with love

You live an integrated life––shadow and not-shadow

There are no phones, there is no internet

And yet you receive millions of likes on your Instagram posts

Your stories are valued at over one million dollars

The characters, the psychosocial models

You create them 

And they interact with you 

Of their own accord

You are that interesting.