January 2010
26 posts
Phaedra by Stephanie Pippin
Nights the stars twitch like nerves.
Those skies are like her, dead
and not dead, and the sea—
Listen
she fell in love like a lunatic.
Like a goat she would have eaten
all his clothes to see him
walk away naked.
December 2009
50 posts
i just like this phrase
“like a dream decanted”
“The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born...”
– Pearl S. Buck
too many striking images →
hmmm, so i’m thinking a valuable prop that could be used for multiple purposes would be a parachute like you play with in pre-school also maybe a fan haha totally kitcsh. some of these pics show that idea, but if useless are pretty nonetheless.
'the dancer who found she could fly'
cant grow anymore.
I am sorry. Wait, no I’m not.
What exists now is the terrifying
But titillating spiral
A clear mind belies awareness
Transparency not clarity
Organic connections degraded, annihilated
Raw, wet with the refusal to accept
Explain the gravity of a falling leaf to the psychiatrist
Reacting with a brief shiver he is a mere continent away.
alone in feeling the spoon...
eden: →
using a set, wings, and art to understand reality and make it better
escape
And everything we do, all the stories we tell one another all the buildings we build all the clothes we wear all of civilization is just a single great effort to escape.
paradise park, charles mee
paper airplane competitions. →
“Too much water. Too many drowned men.”
– Raymond Chandler, on why he disliked the ocean.
last night, underwater (flagellate)
we were made stubborn and hapless children by our overbearing mothers, overbearing even in absence. my mother is everywhere. the hand that plunged us underwater (no not placed us in a basket of reeds! downriver was ourselves!) until we kicked to be let free. B is afraid of drowning, but she says in her dreams she is always retreating to water. but when we re-emerge we are soaking wet, shivering.
...
“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.”
someone like Newton once said
for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction
by heiner müller
Fish wreckage corpses and body-parts stream past.
OPHELIA
While two men in doctor’s smocks wrap her from top to bottom in white bandages.
Here speaks Electra. In the Heart of Darkness. Under the Sun of Torture. To the Metropolises of the World. In the Names of the Victims. I expel all the semen which I have received. I transform the milk of my breasts into deadly poison. I suffocate the world...
not yet a speech, but
A FLIGHT ATTENDANT, while handing out airsick bags
Vomit? Vomit? Vomit? Vomit? Vomit, sir? Thank you. Vomit? Vomit, sir? Vomit?
KATIE or someone like KATIE
(there are, somewhere, writing implements, maybe a laptop, though maybe she is not necessarily sitting at a table. This is partially a monologue about writing a letter, but it should be half this, half said to a middle-distance imaginary(?) scene partner. maybe, actually, it is best done lying on a bed. maybe, there is a man who emerges from some reaches of this bed...
stenography, 21.12
i’m more attracted to characters who do things rashly, instead of characters who drive themselves so crazy thinking about it that they never do anything.
maybe that’s because i have this tendency to do that.
but yeah, i mean
you’d rather fly at the sun knowing that you’re going to fall than not do anything at all.
so she killed herself!
at least she did something!
My flight is the insurrection, my heaven the abyss of tomorrow.
TO THE DESERT
by Benjamin Alire Sáenz
I came to you one rainless August night.
You taught me how to live without the rain.
You are thirst and thirst is all I know.
You are sand, wind, sun, and burning sky,
The hottest blue. You blow a breeze and brand
Your breath into my mouth. You reach—then bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
You wrap your name tight around my...
Desire
by Joy Harjo Say I chew desire and water is an explosion of sugar wings in my mouth. Say it tastes of you. Say I could drown because you left for the time it takes a blackbird to understand a pine tree. Say we enter the pine woods at dawn. We never slept and the only opium we smoked was what became of our mingled breath. Say the stars have never learned to say good-bye. (One is a jewel of...
replace "dancing" with "theater"
“You have to love dancing to stick to it. It gives you nothing back, no manuscripts to store away, no paintings to show on walls and maybe hang in museums, no poems to be printed and sold, nothing but that single fleeting moment when you feel alive. It is not for unsteady souls.”
Merce Cunnigham
Ivor Cutler - Love
charles mee said it
while they sing, beautiful things ascend from beneath the ground to heaven or rose petals rain down or ten thousand brightly colored beach umbrellas descend from the skies; at the end, there is silence, and the sound of the surf
and sometimes i can taste the paste.
this is probably irrelevant, but
sometimes i can taste the past
this is the same thing →
an icarus sighting in norway? →
shooting wax. →
this has been posted before
“The task of the artist is to be open to all the ambiguities, all the multiple impulses present in a given situation. The fact is whenever you say Yes, a hidden part of you is also saying No, as well as innumerable other things. Suppose, at the height of an international crisis your response is, “don’t shoot those rockets at America,” your No might in fact be modulated by an unconscious...
everything is beautiful in the fading light
stolen from an old email sent to me by kelly:
a beautiful thought: tutto è bello a lume spento — often trans in english as “everything is beautiful in the fading light”
just a thought
early this morning, i had a thought that maybe we could turn the “waiting for icarus” poem (go alllll the way to the beginning of the blog) into a dance. i say “we” but i am no choreographer. so, allison, does this sound interesting? i just dig that poem, but i can’t think of a good way to use it, unless we just use the poem as is.
Two things Two Things
1.
2. the notion, the moment, and the place where things are exploded together.
a poem.
“Unquestionably one of the greatest poets of the 20th century, Philip Lamantia’s writing embodies the purely creative and perhaps ruthless intoxication of giving both thought and flesh to the elements of the imagination that is very real and very much alive. A surrealist poet, a poet of the future, Philip Lamantia goes beyond categories and embraces another infinitely ...
dreams
“At the center of this particular novelistic storm is the idea that our behavior in dreams can translate to live action; our dreams can be conduits back into waking reality.” -John Updike’s review of Kafka on the Shore by Murakami
http://www.newyorker.com/archive/2005/01/24/050124crbo_books1#ixzz0Z2KcgmUW
To understand a narrative, as Barthes contends, “is not merely to follow the unfolding of the story, it is also to recognize its construction of ‘storeys,’ to project the horizontal concatenations of the narrative ‘thread’ onto an implicitly vertical axis”
like a paper plane suspended in air. →
“Sometimes, I feel like if someone were to touch me, I’d dissolve into...”
– Jesse, “Before Sunset”