blank blank fullness

#1

2012-01-18T10:44:00.002-05:00

When alone, I often speak into the silence of my home. For me, it's a kind of meditation, a following of my intuition as words begin to flow from... somewhere. I won't necessarily say they flow from me, although I am drawing from thoughts, themes and feelings in that moment of my life. But the spontaneity and the right-feeling words showing up, one after the other on the doorstep of my tongue and out of my mouth, feels like a practice in letting go, receiving, and giving. The whole 'theme', ethos, if you will, of this blog, this space I've set up on the web is about that -- connecting to something that's purely in the moment and going from there, whether or not you think you know, it's right off the top of your mind... the spot that receives experience and goes with it before 'verifying'. Because really, who is there to verify with but your highest self?

Last night I decided to record one such be-spoke meditation. I consider this something of a 'performance' piece. Part art, part poetry, part guided meditation. It's not really about anyone in particular, but I guess it is inspired by certain people, though really, it's universal.

Well, listener, I guess it will become whatever you hear, feel, think, see.... lemme know

#1 by thetopofmymind

Tonight's Musings by MOGA

2012-01-05T12:06:00.000-05:00

Lust is a convenient lie
Love is an inconvenient truth
Everything's more fun when you sing it
That is, of course, unless you're inhibited and/or do not like the sound of your own voice.

____________________________________________

WORK IN PROCESS:

TRANSPARENCY IS / IS NOT YOUR FRIEND

burp on America

our country is tired

HOW desperate do you WANT to BE?

Refuse to consider failure

never arrive

I'm FEELIN FANCY

We were a sea of mirrors, tiny islands of silence and space

CLEAR YOUR ENERGY FIELD

You know what acting is about? You need to FORGET WHO YOU ARE. And if you don't know who that is first, you're fucked.

{If you would pay top dollar for a canvas with these statements artfully scrawled and scratched, colored and crystallized, then you probably went to Art Basel Miami. Also, call me.}<- fancy parentheses

______________________________

Satyakamna is Sanskrit for 'true desire'. It is that longing in each of us that has most likely transmuted into a base desire for a materialistic, sensorial fulfillment. We see it in the slices of cheescake 6 inches high. In the bids for one night stands, temporary marriage, cocaine-white seats. I'm not condemning. I'm just saying, we have a purity at the heart, it wants us to find a wholeness like things can't deliver, like we can't taste. But we get lost. Because it's easy.

The hard road looks easy, full.

The easy, full road is hard.

_______________________________

Oh, it's all Emptiness. Quantum physics. I don't pretend to know you like that, QP. But paradox has stepped aside a few times and let me see the figure on the road she was walking in front of. Thanks, Ram Dass. They didn't look back. Something of a badass.

It's about time I put some of my writings to use and freestyled them somewhere in this grand city. I will announce this before I have actually done anything towards this goal because then I won't do anything. I WORK BACKWARDS. What can I say. Musta been born during a retrograde (actually I wasn't I've checked, but it rhymes so of course, it's going).

Give me freewheeling or give me death.

I've figured it out. Really. My numerological patterns even point to it: for years on end I will be bound by the freestyle, freewheelin forecast. It's not a locked-in destiny, but it is the climate. And I can't deny it any more.

Show me an artist who doesn't think about artifacts of their life and ........ I'll be waiting for a while

Breakthrough !

2012-01-05T01:08:00.001-05:00

Originally posted at Moga Yoga

Occasionally we get stuck, bound up by habits of thought and action; a way of interacting with the world that’s comfortable, familiar, enticing, or even destructive. We forget there is a place beyond what we already know.

We sometimes live out lives in this field, never straying very far from what’s given to us, what’s explicitly taught, shown or told.
Our interest surrounds us and we like it this way.

But this year, as I every so often ask for, I’m setting my sights on what I can’t yet see.
And I encourage you to expand your horizons too!

Even if you have no clue as to where they could expand to, even if you’re already booked up to the gills, saying to yourself, “I don’t have time for frivolities, I’ve got bills to pay/ work to do/ too busy/ already interested/ing enough.”

If you’re a grounded, gimme-the-facts-or-go-home type, try poking around some more airy, artsy or spiritual territory. Esoterica can greatly enhance material existence, giving life substance that doesn’t burn down, break apart or leave you empty at the end of the day.

If you’re stuck in the clouds, try coming down to earth and learn about financial planning, goal setting, time management, mingling with social butterflies or in-the-know folk who can connect you to new figures.

If you tend to play it safe, invite the possibility for adventure, spontaneity, and some more fiery characters in your life.

If you’re the shy type, strike up a convo at the deli, store, etc. Do something the old you would never have imagined the new you capable of.

If you tend to only care about yourself, start to focus on listening, I mean REALLY listening to others. Take yourself out of the spotlight and help others.

There’s always more, different, richness in variety. And while part of happiness is being content with what you’ve got, storing your riches in what nurtures you, knowing that chasing after more, more, more won’t bring you the fulfillment we all seem to need — there is real value in peering beyond.

Expansion is your natural birthright. It is the law of the universe, and change is expansion’s partner in life, the other side of the coin that will make your life-force rich and replenised.

Aim for a breakthrough, a new way of seeing and interacting with the world, and your once-dulling kaleidoscope will take on colors, shapes and the light of a viewfinder that’s all of a sudden learning to see anew.

Cheers, here’s to your personal breakthrough!

AM

Check 1, 2

2012-01-05T00:22:00.001-05:00

I got this affliction it's somethin' like a fixin' for contradiction
I won't eat meat but rock fur to the teeth
I like my sleep but there's nothing to please these feet like a night of roamin' the streets dancing to late freaky beats
Paris, London, LA, Rome where ever I go there you are -- this is home
Bare feet dirt drum circles in Mali
Skyscrape NYC heels at Paul and Andre's
Romancin' boys that I meet
When I'm yearnin for the one who knows me
He sets me free for keeps
I can vibe with an asetic's case and the wisdom he'd beseech
While getting caught up in the latest leather sleeves oh Helmut please!
Don't do me like that
Where's my cash
Where's my plane
When's my turn I want to spread the joy insane
The words I feel to wield like a line straight from me to you
The silence I'll claim when small talkin's something I just don't learn to do
Dualistic me laughs in the mirror of unity
I'll meditate to start my day, down dog the time away
And visit magicians when sun sets to pledge for me
Mystic texts on transcendtal sex
And give it all up one day to the next
Teaching souls from 9-5
Walking a thin tightrope line
With the virtues, the values I hold so dear
And the laughing and running I work to steer
From a steady place, it takes years
The quotes the love the time that's all fine
But It won't stick unless I can make it rhyme

The Forest Where

2011-12-12T23:00:00.001-05:00

Take me to our forest
Where the cedar fills the world with Earth beyond our bodies
Where birch trees stand like soldiers
Protect our games of hide and seek
From souls who have forgotten how to play
And the mist conceals our pasts
Separate trails that brought us here at last
The dew will collect on our shoes
Revealing our progress on stones
Slowly they evaporate in our wake
The way breath betrays silence
We are alive
And your hands are rough from time,
But warm and where my body seeks refuge
Enchanted eyes will have no mind for nostalgia
Our fairytales will have no endings
Nor will they begin to match
The reality of nature in our veins
Like leaves shimmering on a coursing river
Sunlight catches your creases
Insistent from years of wonder
Left a map for my eyes to trace around your face
Beds of moss and years of fallen seasons
We sink into the dirt with no reason to stay clean
Unafraid to lose our modern gleam
My jewels slip off and your instruments are basic
In the best way
Braids come undone as branches comb through this mass alongside your fingers of silk
Skillfully we scratch our facades in the tiniest ways
Revealing smiles and uncertainties as materials test our faith
Our faith in bondage to set us free
Our love of freedom to keep us close
Our need of closeness to stay a part
A part of the magic
The magic of the forest where finally we can sleep
The sleep that fails to interfere with dreams
The dreams that cannot lie
The truth that keeps on dancing
Through the darkest of nights

Culinary Adventures

2011-12-09T11:35:00.001-05:00

Follow Kevin and me on our journey through lasagna land....

Linear LA

2011-12-06T23:48:00.003-05:00

My Heart

2011-12-05T13:41:00.000-05:00

My heart's been broken, my heart's been stifled, it's been lost amidst foreign languages, habits, and rules. It's been drugged and drunk, slowed and sparked with the touch of another's heart, behind a chest these hearts of ours rest and when they magnetize for real, out comes our best, flying us into the heavens on Earth where we seem to need to be so bad, so good, for the best
It's been stomped on, thrown to the wall, fallen to the floor, shed invisible tears, it's lost its beat every now and then through the years,
it kept going though it may have been deaf to my ears
My heart's felt joyous gratitude and sorrow with loss, regret for times its owner wouldn't let it talk, saddened time and time again when things didn't go as planned, my heart still sticks to it's dreams, even when my hands wander through other scenes...
The ancients told me that my heart is where the true mind lies
though my heart's been off while my mind ran the show, it watched,
undercover spy
Blocked, bruised, banished, ignored and angered, there it goes beatin' away, my heart waits with work to always do
And as time goes on
And as we fade
Our hearts ache on, push on, shine on
Til the final resting day
Wake it up
Give it a hand
Tell your heart
Baby, you understand
Listen to its stories
Move to the rhythm it gives you
Meditate to heal that heart
Piece it back to whole
Don't forget it needs you too
Don't forget you're all
You're all it's got to be
Lovin' you n you n you n you n you............

Damn, this is good

2011-11-30T21:15:00.000-05:00

Act I

2011-11-29T21:51:00.000-05:00

I have nothing to lose
and that's the worst of it
the emptiness your presence takes on
fills me with regret
of some days that went so wrong
the awkwardness, a thick mist
two bodies made of stone
a camera, the click of something paid and lost
I've let it go
then why does it still wreck like a bad dream
it's never what it seems
moments lost to bad memories
on the spot
down came that house of cards
and I lost all my winnings

Powerful stuff

2011-11-10T10:06:00.001-05:00

The last page of this month's Flaunt magazine.

Be human

2011-11-02T04:31:00.001-04:00

And when you don't have to be perfect you are free to be your self. Which is essentially, anything and everything at the right times in the right ways, always.

HAIM (a band of sisters)

2011-10-23T10:27:00.003-04:00

Every once in a while there comes along an artist who restores your faith in (real) music. They capture you with familiarity. They keep you with their novelty. And all of a sudden you're energized, inspired, touched in that unexplainable way that sorta just shook the earth beneath your feet. Totally turned on.

For me, this happy surprise came Friday night at The Bowery Electric during Cantora Records' CMJ showcase.
HAIM hails from LA. They're a band fronted by three sisters with two chaps in the back on drums and keys. They've got a deadly and powerful cocktail of impactful, raspy and emotion-laced vocals; song structures that avoid staid, expected progressions; catchy lyrics (in the good way); the stage banter of someone comfortable in their skin and sense of humor; and mega-solos. Artist comparisons flooded my head as I watched; Fleetwood Mac, The XX, John Mayer, Tracy Chapman, Nirvana; and yet they're incomparable.

These chicks rock
Proof:

The finale

Gem Club

2011-09-28T18:14:00.003-04:00

I'm on a piano binge, can't help the love the keys strike in me for a gently drifting melody
This video contains a beautiful nudity to accompany the pace of intimate symphonies

'Twins'

dreams & deadlines

2011-09-23T09:32:00.000-04:00

"The art of life is getting the messages."

On a deserted Brooklyn street this morning I walked past this:

Someone's unwanted fortunes lay in pieces. Something made me stop. Something about wanting a message. And I love fortune cookies (the fortune part at least).
So I tore open the small bag and gingerly pulled out the 3" x 3/4" strip of random messages

And, because I want to learn Chinese:

On my knees

2011-09-21T21:57:00.001-04:00

I'm just a mortal with a heart
And I let love control me
Because it's the only thing
Worth anything
Worth everything

people's people

2011-09-19T11:07:00.004-04:00

Birdy - People Help The People

thoughts on spiritual materialism

2011-09-16T16:59:00.004-04:00

It was just Fashion Week in New York and I had the opportunity to cover Vivienne Tam's presentation of her new "Fashion Yoga" line for the popular yoga blog, Yoga Dork. It would be like me to take something as benign and nice, nice as an outdoor yoga class presenting yoga clothes and turn it into a deep philosophical question on spirituality, consumerism, authenticity and the like. If you get to really know me, that could get annoying. Especially if you don't like thinking. In which case, it probably won't ever get to that point. But hey - I'm a Libra so, don't worry, I'm mindful of balance (hence get kooky and physically spontaneous).

You know -- what can I say, I go off the top of my mind...

Here's my review. Lots of questions come up and hopefully it gets you interested in looking at yourself and your own choices, whether or not they have anything to do with yoga or fashion (they do). I know I'm still thinking a lot about our present-day structure, it driving behavior and beliefs; how it's built on ideas of the past, adapting to needs of today, planning for an unknown, yet marginally projectable (not really a word) future; the mash ups of tech and spirit, body as our home and our home in this world. To paraphrase some wisdom from my morning session today at Kula Tribeca: "It's never going to be perfect, resolved; the ends will never tie up neatly. Never, ever, ever, ever. And thank God." But is that an excuse for laziness and irresponsible choices? ..... Nyet, Nu, Non, Nein, Não, Manan, Na, Iie. Guess it's got me thinking about honestly responsible choices too...

I also have to give credit to Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche for the term 'spiritual materialism' and my teacher David Micheal Hollander for introducing me to it. Here's the video of Chogyam speaking on the concept, worth watching all the way through:

From Wiki:

In Trungpa's presentation, spiritual materialism can fall into three categories — what he calls the three "Lords of Materialism" (Tibetan: lalo literally "barbarian") — in which a form of materialism is mistaken to bring long term happiness but instead only brings short term entertainment, followed by longer term suffering:

Physical materialism is the belief that possessions can bring release from suffering. In Trungpa's view, they may bring temporary happiness but then more suffering in the endless pursuit of creating one's environment to be just right. Or on another level it may cause a misuderstanding like, "I am rich because I have this or that" or "I am a teacher (or whatever) because I have a diploma (or whatever)."
Psychological materialism is the belief that a particular philosophy, belief system, or point of view will bring release from suffering. So seeking refuge by strongly identifying with a particular religion,^[5] philosophy, political party or viewpoint, for example, would be psychological materialism. From this the conventional usage of spiritual materialism arises, by identifying oneself as Buddhist or some other label, or by collecting initiations and spiritual accomplishments, one further constructs a solidified view of ego.^[2]
Spiritual materialism is the belief that a certain temporary state of mind is a refuge from suffering. An example would be using meditation practices to create a peaceful state of mind, or using drugs or alcohol to remain in a numbed out or a blissful state. According to Trungpa, these states are temporary and merely heighten the suffering when they cease. So attempting to maintain a particular emotional state of mind as a refuge from suffering, or constantly pursuing particular emotional states of mind like being in love, will actually lead to more long term suffering.

through you

2011-09-07T15:11:00.000-04:00

"Pay attention to your heart, take heed of your soul and be assured that if you are present here, it is because life - existence, the absolute, God - wishes to do something through you..."

- Swami Ramakrishnananda

That last line moved me deeply last night. I've heard and read variations on this before, but something in the way this reads... buoys me.

mextex

2011-08-29T14:12:00.001-04:00

I love macro shots, decontextualizing form and feeling

Here's a little series of Mex-Tex (textures in Mexico).

Designer's wet dream

Ok so this first one's not that decontextualized...it was the most delicious thing ever, particularly as the roughness of the hand-ground-corn tortilla was perfectly softened by the guac and cheese. Lunch time!

tellin stories

2011-08-10T11:29:00.003-04:00

As a writer and lover of books, I can wholeheartedly vouch for the power of a good story line, a kernel of an idea, an essential moral expanded by way of characters, situations, places and turning points. Don't judge a book by it's cover. Don't judge a life by the stories people tell around it. Gossip is a virus that turns the tides away from truth and health. And each of us has the power to remain free of the virus, to control the agreements we unconsciously or consciously make with ideas, with convenient stories. Keeping our power of discrimination to keep the mind and spirit free of hurtful, downgrading stories; how crucial to fulfillment.

Stories, like photographs and paintings, are snapshots, images which convey feeling as filtered by each viewer. Feeling is fleeting. The snapshot does not encompass what was going on behind the scenes, what was going on inside. And to me, what's important, crucial, to a true experience (which in turn serves as rich fodder for a true story: read: one that inspires a greater good in action) is the integrity of the characters behind it.

A story is an image in words. When addressing the "story of your life", what is more important to you? The way a story looks and sounds, or how you felt while it was being written? Living skin vs. shiny leather boots? How can we value vanity: the end product, the image; especially when it comes from a source of hurt and imbalance? Why is choosing peace and sourcing insights from that place less satisfying, and when you do choose it, seemingly more difficult? How can we work to reverse the limitations society has imposed upon our frames of thought, our ability to value and choose what is truly liberating; from a place of openness, vulnerability without victims, trust without ulterior motives and community support without tearing others down when they don't fit the mold?

Legends come in many shapes. The stories tell many ways. But how did you live it in the now? Stories can be embellished, will be read through the eyes of the reader, not those of the writer. We all have filters, shaped by our own lives, experiences, beliefs, perceptions. Conversely, you cannot read your life through anyone else's lens. And we know that. Yet we still stifle our voices in an effort to be 'perfect'. Or well liked. Or to keep the shareholders happy. Or to keep the waves of profit flowing in the direction of someone who exercises control through fear or abuse of power. Keep your power. See your power.

You cannot judge your life as inspiring or not with any sort of accuracy unless you yourself were inspired while living. If you're living to write a story, then what are you doing now? Writing or living? The ego likes the way it sounds. The story arch: the picture of struggle, success, power and control over the self. But true happiness doesn't care; as long as it's authentic. If you filter your happiness through the ego, it will always fluctuate with what you are or are not getting, with the silent checks and balances being accounted for from a place of emptiness, lack, or fear. It is up to each of us to realize we start with, and always have, everything we need, that we each have the ultimate control behind that force; behind any external force be it government, peer groups, religion, your closest relatives, your ego self. It starts with you. One small step for your self, one big step for everyone else.

Stay true.

Clear the fog. Stories aren't real. But your life can be.

rise and fall

2011-07-21T15:32:00.008-04:00

the one the world runs through
while doers do
you live it for them, too
feeling the work as more than
shiny vanity packaged as if it could be
art
the labels laugh, stand apart
they're the only ones who won't believe
hidden an arms length behind the screen
a reality you thought you touched while
imitating
reaching back into the past for gems
when no one knew your name
babe, it's just the same, still the same
as when they do
is that even you
true?
how about you
what about you?
writhing treasurers
owning
quiet traveler
you cup the sadness of loss
before it sets itself upon your doorstep
alone, alone, alone
shed your loneliness and fly with
wings
feathers floating on the trail
of moments turning over into infinity
borrowed air in your borrowed lungs
you control what you can
ignore all the rest,
sort-of
make peace with your power
pretend you're the best
and they sing along while your breath
it's still strong
la la la la
witha what kind of goodness do you
claim to possess
shh shh shh
it's in your silence
it's in your death
if you can see the goodness
in the mess
and when your lover was near
you know it was worth it to see 'er clear
now far and forgotten
you're fine with half-way
falling off,
going astray
for the love of
what you claim ain't a game
and all of a sudden
losing is cool
faking the pieces
puzzle of the day
as she floats on
unchanged in her oceanic ways...........

lēmniscātus

2011-07-13T20:42:00.006-04:00

If I ever got a tattoo, which would be a really big thing for me to do, it would be the infinity loop
what a meta thing to choose
my whole qualm with tattooing myself is that I know, in my heart of hearts, I could not, would not, pledge allegiance to an image, idea or symbol for my whole life
there's just nothing out there that's that significant or important to me (right now)
everything changes and I've given my allegiance up to that
or maybe I just have issues with commitment...
anyway, I'm happy honoring the skin I've been given, au naturel, with a few scars from adventures gone awry, tattoo-like in their own right
age leaves its mark enough in time....
BUT, but -- in terms of linear beauty, simplicity and significance, , I've got you under my skin...

Source of this: some fellow yogis I follow on the internets and every now and then at their studio (hey Micheal, Tara) are consistently reinforcing the principle of working from inside, out
And as much as I agree with that, (when I close my eyes and turn inwards the pieces fall together and I'm comfortable, blissfully unconcerned with time's passing) I know the opposite is just as true
At any given moment, you're on the course of that infinity loop, whether it's taking inspiration from without and reflecting it inwards to make something of it in your own terms,
Seeing the shifts in your body, skin, outer radiance from well-massaged organs, nervous systems, and brain firings
Or crossing paths with a person, place, idea or object that's set to send you in a new direction, through a new feedback loop.
The question-answer of working from inside-out is presented as a concept, that is, an external entity one takes in to breakdown and assimilate. You're outside taking this inside-out in. Get that?
There's no one-way track (even time must be flexible on some planes) and the elegance of this is expressed in the constant motion, unbreakable conversion from end to end in infinity. On a molecular level, it's in our DNA, ever escalating into itself in our selves...

And if you've got some time to get lost in esoteric Wiki hopping, it's fascinating!

Affirmative

2011-07-11T23:13:00.001-04:00

I wrote this a while back on a sort-of off day and it really lifted me. Nothing quite like a pep talk with yourself when you've been too hard on yourself.
Remember it, the positivity and power you possess, on a day where maybe a friend or family member says some not-so-friendly things. Or someone you really like doesn't feel the same. Or you're just not going your own way... And remember, it's all part of the play.....

Affirmative
Work from abundance
When in doubt, act with confidence to tackle a task you have been putting off
Stop ruminating and start connecting the dots
Let it happen
Share your beauty
Believe in others' beauty, positivity and grace
Connect to the world around you moving on the street
Move around blockages towards what flows and makes you happy
Know that in time, you can reach a dream if you keep working, keep following positive connections, keep your sights set high. Don't settle! See stepping stones for what they are and don't stay stagnant for more than it takes to catch an energizing breath.
Keep your ambitions high but parse your goals in short-term doables
Visualize your ideal outcome and leave space for surprises. Invite them with your intention to help you with a bounty you could not have alone, then redistribute. Don't hold on to resources, share share share
Feel out when doing nothing is doing a lot!
Each stage, of the day, week, year and your life has value and importance. Address the relevance of your place along the timeline of your life and know the past is not a reliable comparative. Infact, nothing is. There is no comparing in your unfolding, there is only observing and reaping lessons.
Relish the changing face of your 20s what's to come in your 30s 40s 50s and beyond. Enjoy your age for what it is, don't rush to grow. You are changeless and yet continually evolving. Laugh with paradox, wink at the mirror, keep in touch.
When you're indecisive, plunge and commit. Own it. Stop thinking and feel your answer.
The harder it gets the harder you must be making it on yourself
Double up your will and throw your positivity bows with a glint of power

Jazz +

2011-07-07T23:23:00.000-04:00

Can you dig this

Two by One (live) by Didge Project

Improv for Life - A Conversation with Kim Schultz

2011-07-07T11:39:00.003-04:00

A few weeks ago I signed up for two Life-Prov classes taught by actor, improv-lover & coach, corporate trainer, comic, writer and -- Reverend, Kim Schultz. At the time, I had no idea I'd signed up for all that. After the first class, nay -- during, I realized I'd received a dollop of pure, intense goodness I couldn't wait to savor in the coffee-cup of my world.

Life-Prov flexes, and in so doing, develops the muscles of your inspired self -- the one that lives, moves, feels, acts, responds, supports and chooses all at the same moment, from the same place, with sweeping confidence and intuition. It's exhilarating! For two hours you are totally present, in your body, saying YES, not looking back, not looking bad, committing and coming into your own through creative, energizing, empowering, and interactive exercises, games and drills. Kim has taken founding principles of improv and woven them into her classes. The result? You've connected to and have developed your inspired self -- you "get out of your own way, trust your gut, speak your truth, listen deeper and play more." And when you get back to your life, you're not the same. Your center of gravity has shifted and, undoubtedly, your world, relationships, and views have shifted too. Open sesame.

During the sessions, as we responded to exercises and shared our experiences amongst the group, I immediately recognized the intrinsic similarities to fundamental yogic principles. There is a profound territory in the venn diagram of improv and yoga and I am diving into the center crosshatching!

Dive in with us! Last week I met up with Kim to interview her and discuss more. Riding the wave of an inspired evening, I also brought along Deborah Pannell, a beloved friend and project-partner who happened to be with me, and is the primum movens of Kim's and my connection. She jumps into the convo every now and again.

I recorded our interview for your listening pleasure. Enjoy part 1 in our ___-part journey into inner and outer space. Live at thetopofmy[your]mind. Instinctual, expansive, and universal: letting the moment reveal the highest answer and outcome.

Unfortunately, the first half of our conversation was lost due to technical mishaps. So here, we're quite literally diving right in. It might get deep. But, trust me, getting wet is the only way you'll grow! And you know thisssssss!

Alexandra Moga Interviews Kim Schultz Part 1 by thetopofmymind

Join the conversation! How have you experienced an inspired life? How have yoga and/or improv changed your life? Leave comments and let the discussion continue.....

Kim Schultz Improv on Facebook

xxo

And then she said

2011-06-28T00:11:00.001-04:00

"God we're emo"

Threw her head back and laughed

"Joke's on you!"

"Oh, wait -- "

Monday night, months' worth

2011-06-28T00:00:00.001-04:00

she didn't want to be the last one standing
again
so she shut the door
no man's land between self-revealing intuition and the voices that came with time
the voice quieted as she forgot to listen
searching instead for
more
test 1, 2; 1, 2
flickers now and then hesitated to give rise
as once the past had seen fires burn in her eyes
dropping endless scenes behind the lenses cast upon the moment, and the next stretched out in weeks
and she hates getting all made up for nothing but another group when where's the single's gaze I sought to please
another step to her bedtime routine
slipping in and out of pose with ease wondering when these bones will start to creak
endless body stretching beyond the aging limbs of a life which cannot does not could not end
youth your marvel bathes round me
bells tolling infrequently yet history has been made
and there's the art of living
what rhythm were we born into
where's the metronome
5 - 6 - 7 - 8
9 - 1 - 2 - 3
where's our perfect proofs
proofs of math and music
counting out our destinies
balance kept so steadily
why'd you go an use the past tense
insinuation picked up
war-time sensitivity
radars up in arms
we've got your meaning
we've got your mis-communications, too
when you missed something,
something brewing out of bounds
the blank was filled in
knew what was left unsaid
was right
the time isn't right and waiting --
what a waste
youth's biggest lesson lost on patience
it doesn't take much
for us to realize
it's all meaningless (sublime nothingness)
without the good stories we tell
reality is all that's left to sell, a shell
serve your body, mind, and spirit with the
buy, create, consume, rest, resume, converse, avoiding doom
cycle spin, years on end
then -- love's back again
so sorry it ever left
how long can it last
for the lone rangers -- all of them,
floating winks of private moments, lifetimes in a breath
intersections drawing introspections
let the bodies cross and pass
crash into walls of a 'coulda been doing this all along'
love without an object
reason without a mind
mind is off addressing
everything in its right place
my holy impermanence slipping through the net of your gripping sliding fingertips
continue like this
rise and fall to the sun and earth
look what happens with a love like that*
it lights the whole sky*
hello sounds just like goodbye

Other People, [Yet Strangely Familiar]

2011-06-25T21:46:00.001-04:00

Other People Incident 2.5: "Corey Haim's Ghost"

I mean. BLOWN AWAY

these incidents are fantastically ridiculous, executed with a fresh eye, crazy-real mind, take your time to spy, super duper fly!

http://otherpeeps.com/

Sitting with this

2011-06-22T10:39:00.000-04:00

I'm just a wild party

2011-05-21T12:05:00.005-04:00

Congrats to Drew -- the wild party music man who started this all...& Caroline -- the brains, beauty, power, and dedication behind this creation

Go 'head. Whistle along.......

What could be more bad ass and empowering than "You're always tryin' to fix me -- BUT I AIN'T BROKEN!!!!!!"

I AM A WILD PARTY

Party on!

Yoga For Music Integration

2011-05-18T21:44:00.010-04:00

So here we are, almost a month after the fact but hey, 'betta late than neva' (say it in a sassy, sultry Marlyn Monroe or Jessica Rabbit voice).

On 4/20/11 I led a yoga class over at the Morrison Hotel Gallery to benefit Guitars in the Classroom. As I work with young 5th graders, I've been brought closer to the exact reason why education has always been a critical issue at the forefront of my mind. I feel quite lucky to have received a terrific education, and I know a lot of it was due to the fact that, along the way, I've had a few stellar teachers who exposed me to new perspectives and frames of viewing the world at the right times in my growth. Anomalies, stand out human beings.

The 3rd grade teacher who took it upon herself to teach her students French- via children's songs- in an early-90's Astoria. The albino-haired 10th grade English teacher who so clearly didn't belong in suburban New Jersey (but DID belong at the school) -- dressed in Gucci, former lawyer, TERRIBLY intelligent and refined in the subjects he asked us to think about critically. The art history teacher who made you want to work so hard for her love. Because she made you love the subject so much.

Those kinds of teachers are there before you can choose the world for yourself, they open the doors to new places, and those kinds of characters inspire me, and all those they touch, to search deeper; revealing a few decadent crumbs along a trail to exhilarating discovery.

And they do this how? They become art themselves. They've touched that place inside themselves that then radiates the works and spirits, drives, emotions and creations, and they pass it on; the gatekeepers to our curiosity and capacity to live full lives through meaningful work, whatever that means to you.

To me it means passing on yoga and art to children when they're still fresh, but also beginning to feel the pressures of the world around them. The high expectations of tests. The struggling parents, the moves and losses of friendship, the latest Nicki Minaj, Rihanna, or Beyonce songs they will hum in class, while saying "I wanna be a fashion designer". Pop and locking, sliding in a funky grove with an "I'm going to be a lawyer". All while we figure out how to sound a Sanskrit word (s = sh), what values are and what they want theirs to be, locating spinning wheels of energy in their bodies that connect to love, or ego, or creativity, and how to hold their bodies to be more compassionate, less egotistical, more creative. How to enjoy the silence. They are 10 years old. And when they fight over mats I get to remind them about non-attachment. It's a trip! I digress, I also hope that these little seeds planted, make their lives a little bit richer. Like those farmer-teachers did for me...

I want to spread this kind of enrichment. Enable other teachers to take creativity into their own hands and then share it with their students directly, every day. Yes, kids, we have to learn about the rules of grammar, but what if we all got together for our lesson today and wrote a song about it? And then sung it together?! So I got together with Guitars in the Classroom. And took their teacher's workshop. And saw, experienced firsthand what this charity is doing. Am learning guitar so I can sing with my students! And I can only imagine the benefit to so many more children right here in New York City. Maybe ESL students in East Harlem who could really ease and enliven their learning of English with a song. Giving enrichment to schools that might be in trouble (seen Waiting for Superman?) , teachers getting some art in their own lives, learning how to play the guitar, maybe even holding a guitar for the first time. Democratizing the making of music so more of us can carry a tune in our hearts, a tune we helped create.

Taking the edge off city life.

Doesn't that sound amazing?

So we did some yoga at the beautiful, warm, good-vibe-filled Morrison Hotel Gallery Loft to raise some money. So that more schools, more students, more teachers in New York City can get this beautiful chance.

Looking forward to more....

photography by Tobias Batz

Learn more

Want to get involved? Know a school that could use GITC?

email : yogaforGITC [at] gmail [dot] com

EXCLUSIVE! Cannes Red Carpet

2011-05-18T19:50:00.002-04:00

Inspired by the season, I've put together a photo series:

Modern Archetypes

EXCLUSIVE! Cannes Red Carpet, 2011, format: digital Logitech QuickCam

'The Dignified European'

'The Hilton "Haay!"'

'The Ingenue and Pursed Lips'

'The Comic'

'The Indie'

'The Latin Tamale'

'The Big Shot "Hey!"'

'LOVING LIFE! aka Oprah'

'The Skeptic aka James Franco''

'The Britney Spears'

Accidentally Composed

2011-05-17T10:35:00.002-04:00

by Ch'eng Hao (1032-1085) of the Sung Dynasty

In leisure, everything can be done slowly.

In my sleep, the sun at the east window has

become red and hot.

If you see them in quiet, all beings are happy

with themselves.

In the four seasons of the year, my pleasure is

the same as that of others.

The way transcends the forms of nature,

The thoughts enter the ever changing winds

and clouds,

If a man does not indulge himself when he is

rich and high, and can be happy when he is

poor and low.

He is a hero.

Accidentally discovered Via

Love the pure wisdom of the East, the Tao; the non-dualism we arrive at when acknowledging duality..............

Diary of a student

2011-05-17T02:14:00.002-04:00

To be a good yoga teacher, you have to be a good person. Sure I could get by on what's been embedded in my mental and physical memory from years and years of practice. And what of the energy in my heart and mind, body when I approach these other beings. Am I thinking of something that was said last night, a drama that's ensued in some other part of time, or a not-so-distant future? Judging myself as I move and sound? Or totally taking care of you, teaching you how to do such, for the next hour and some? Sure, I could get comfortable reciting a script, following a formula, hardly deviating from the structure and flow of 'what works'. But then it becomes a job. And jobs lack value because they are founded solely on their financial worth. And this can apply to anything. Any field, any talent, any relationship, any art. The technical skills can override, replace the fun and in-the-moment inspiration necessary to supply the heart & soul of the whole operation. The tired, vulnerable human gives way to the efficient, technically perfect robot. And some days, it's just gotta be that way. But over time, like feeds like. The robot sucks away the potential for joy and now-won satisfaction, and the human becomes more tired, feels more vulnerable, less capable. Its spirit memory has been overrun by the repetitious hard memory, which in the meantime, has been, technically speaking, getting the job done So, what's in 'result'? How much does it cost you, and in what value system?

To be a good person, you have to make good choices; do the right thing, as it were. This is not so easy; even if you are 'technically' a good person. And here, I mean good as in maintaining, not replenishing and balancing (what the GOOD kind of good does). And I face the repercussions of falseness in waves, in my own mental, spiritual well being. Sure, physically I'm fit and I eat right but the roller coaster still kicks in every now and again, and happiness built on faulty grounds tumbles easily down. What's more, happiness built on love is a hell of a climb up a mountain.
And what if? Would the views not be majestic on the way there? Or would your eyes be closed, creating colors, passing through bodies at multiple rates at a time. Would you be doing it for the views, of them of you (looking back at you)? Or for the sweat, the burn and occasional vista of fresh air? Pointed one-focus eyes at the top? Perhaps you'd take a helicopter up there? Whaddha you got that I don't and how do I get that? Or better, are you levitating? Perhaps your eyes are down to the view below. Working out ways to make it better. You can't help it, it's your compassion. Or your know-it-all-ness. Where do we get that from any way? Ok now you're rambling. [editor's note: let's leave those last few out before publishing maybe?...]

The thing is, in this world we live in today, bad choices are front and center. Bad choices are in disguise. Bad choices are so easy and available. It's hard to really grasp the fact, make a difference, label your act as such, as bad, because 'bad' has underpinned established lines of thought, behavior and impulse. It is reflected in our establishments but it starts with individuals. It is reflected en masse and the trees cannot stand alone in a forest. [editor's note: You mean 'materially' bad?]

Bad has no immediate consequence. In fact, bad facilitates. Immensely. That which is, essentially, good, right, and healthy is inconvenient. Takes time, patience, and discipline, can't be bought or paid for (or it can but you're not getting the results, they are. You just get the product, instead of being the product.). Takes a trained eye, heart, and sense of self. A sense of self that has achieved a clear reflection through dedicated self-study. Who has time for self-study these days? And what do you mean, anyways? Well, many people are turning their lives over to it. But many more are consumed by the medias they consume. Are replacing their soul-searching and talent-developing with easy entertainments. What's more, the soul-searching and talent-developing is only a platform, not the end in and of itself.
Art is a wonderful, beautiful tool for understanding ourselves and the worlds we create and sustain but art and garbage are replacing each other, it could be argued. What is considered art by many may have started as such, in a room, in an energy-filled location on this planet, in an experience, an insight and revelation sourced in many people; synthesized by one person, they, dipping into the mysticism of a moment marked by informed webs, an ah-ha where a ready mind and heart can assimilate this collection of chance encounters, over-heard words, quotes, run-ins, fights, flights, causes and effects. Then: the creation creates, becomes whipped and spun into a product. God complex much? Unbeknownst, the spark of divine inspiration generates a new species: industry upon industry built to sustain and propagate something you can't touch, once so essential you used to be able to feel it in your heart when you just lived your own life. Yes! You're living your own life, ah there it is back again.
But we've overpopulated this place. And money is the new old chase. And nobody wants to live with guilt and judgement so we say "to each his own". How do we get to a place where truly good can emerge to lead with the same success as Lady Gaga (at this very moment in history). Who, by the way, has in a large way, managed to somewhat obliterate a noble thesis purely via the medium in which she's chosen to represent herself and those so-called humanitarian statements. Is she successful? How do we measure success today? And is that not helping our case? She may be supremely successful in her inner world, satisfied with the energy she emits, the relationships she forms, the objects she interacts with, and the energy of performing.) But where do action and result reflect? They never really could, correct? Cause is not effect. Effect is a new entity from equation, equanimity perhaps if you're lucky (a real man makes his own luck) [editor's note: Quoting Titanic again?].... Site hits. Video counts. In short, eyes. Attention. Bodies. The more of them you've got, the more your success to pass on your wiseness. Is that it now? But where? I ask, where are these bodies? Google will tell me. And moreover, what could turn them all on in an inherently beneficial way? What a question to be asking, you should be ashamed. Who are you, anyway?

Why are the polarities so distant? Why is material existence so gratifying and increasingly 'necessary'. We're building higher up thanks to it but why this rapture of it coming down?

SO? How do we get good?

Am I about to write (right) the craziest thing ever or will I let it pass into the ether and forget its own name?,
she says aloud
By golly I think that's how Shakespeare may have written so many wonderful plays.
Where's a a recorder it'd be so much easier if I could have a microphone and record it all. Oh dear I think I'm falling into the river. Ah yes here it is. Or will there be no battery left, for me, to get self-conscious instead of Self conscious? No -- it's out. Better to use your inside voice. Shall I pull out a piece of my hair from the side of this neat bun and accentuate the crazy? Staring into her own eyes as reflected on the screen she asks, "Why are you smiling? Conversations with God?" and blows smoke right in her own face. Pulling her hair out of the bun she lets a cascading darkness fall to the right side of her face, reflected left. "Let me turn up the volume," she then says, and, realizing the double entendre, switching on a dime, begins to shout, into a sung, "Ahhhhhhhhhh". Reaching for her phone, she recalls something she'd written and now wanted to share. Begins to type into the note's 'Find:' bar: No, ah yes,

Noted:
I am a hypocrite
I know very little, nearly nothing
I am naturally selfish and must muster up effort to be selfless
Unnatural effort causes me stress
I like making people feel good, but only when I know, when It makes me feel good in return
Dancing is most enjoyable, it makes me feel free
Feeling free is most important to me
People give me energy, I feel good around others
Being alone for too long, or in neutral/poor company makes me into a destructive monster
Having a secure, lavish, even, material foundation is important to me
But then again camping, 'roughing it', paring down existence draws my heart
Travel, freedom, these are luxuries I cannot relinquish
I become irritable, disgruntled, cynical once routine knocks
I was slightly spoiled as a child
Because I insisted on getting what I wanted
I only care what others think of me when I feel amazing
When I'm in a shitty mood the world could fuck itself because I don't give a damn about its opinion
I'm a know-it-all but, as I said, I know nearly nothing
Xenophile, through and through
I am still immoral, or I was, at least
Honesty is relative and truth takes a strength I can't insist upon past the present
My love of ____ ____ (blank blank) has been met with much resistance, by family and friends (they're stupid, I am stupider), by the ____ (blank) himself, and I beg for signs when I want to give up so I can be free somehow [editor's note: I know you're not, but you sound desperate here, maybe take it out? P.S. are you talking about God?]
And when proof emerges I want to prove it to everyone
But I'm alone in this love
And I hope I don't go crazy
Because I think it takes a crazy person to have taken it this far
I'm fucked up, it's fine
I'm intoxicating, like wine
My personalities are multiple, thank you, ear for accents
I am human and I have my limits, especially in the United States of America, where an expansive, connected sense of self has been replaced by Facebook-gawking. And isn't it ironic
I was abused as a child, can you tell? [editor's note: big deal who wasn't? look how much we're abusing the planet]
Ugh I hope not, what would the neighbors think? [editor's note: Mars has repeatedly sent us messages that they hate us, it's in the Roswell files but shh don't tell anyone I told you, OK?]
Tipping is a pet peeve, that is why I love France
I am pretentious, with things that matter (like my ideas of what 'matters')
Let's laugh at how fucked up we are as humanity [editor's note: I think you should tone the negativity down, I know you think you're being a realist but it's not very progressive and isn't that what you love touting? Ok fine, let's talk later, I know, you have a rebuttal]
Hahahahahaahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
Fuck you! Who told you you could laugh?!
My love can't be bought. But my time can
Hmm. Fuck [editor's note: they're gonna want to edit the curses out, you know that right?]
Maybe I should sell some love and buy back the last 3 years [editor's note: Ok, well at least you offer some possible solutions. What if we changed 'the last 3 years' to 'the rest of my life'?]
I can be fake but I'll coat it with sarcasm to seem real. Wait, I'm confused

::::: D N R :::::

you gotta be fearless
can love save the world?

Ukiyo

2011-05-17T00:23:00.003-04:00

They were having open studios at the ISCP this weekend, and met some pretty cool artists from around the world exhibiting their work...got to talkin' to those whose works moved me especially...

Departure by Kanako Sasaki

This photo was taken in winter on a trip she took to Latvia, to visit the regions where the Russian - Japanese war took place, where those 'others' came from.

It knocked me off my feet when I saw it on the wall. Still does. Amazing.

blur the lines

2011-05-14T23:29:00.000-04:00

Hammock Enlightenment

BIG SKY

2011-05-08T17:31:00.001-04:00

I'mma comin' for you

How clean is your mirror?

2011-04-27T14:05:00.001-04:00

From

effort is ____ made manifest

2011-04-13T14:10:00.001-04:00

There's always a point in the middle of the battle, the work, where it gets scary. When enthusiasm's gleam rubs off to leave you face-to-face with your efforts, and their underlying motivating factor. What's in a good intention? Patience to see it through, to be challenged by your values. Economy, balance, progress. The realization that progress is a term so vague, its meaning susceptible to the climate in which it finds itself. Hard fact all of a sudden gives way to perception, interpretation-- the daunting, simultaneously freeing truth that the stories we write rarely stand the test of shifting understanding through time.

And you realize what you've got is you. All you can ever hope to truly have is your self as a conduit. Remaining loyal to the forces of change. Dedicating yourself to crystallizing the residue of a hundred different stories, moments, experiences, intentions; for others. Compounded like carbon, copied, clouded; you come an polish it up to cut away what no longer works, serves. Walking the fine line of effort and surrender. Of desire and renunciation.

What will save you in the void? In that space between where uncertainty rules the ego?

what are you deciding?

2011-04-08T14:16:00.002-04:00

How many times a day do you allow your sentences spoken, thoughts bestown by you unto you, decide the outcome of your mood? Your day, week, night, life?

What are you deciding?

Are you limiting your capacity to experience freedom, feel joy, and spread these things packaged up in undifferentiated love? Regardless of your role? Or maybe, in spite of it?

You are the key maker, the moment is the door through which you are free to pass at any and every breath. Perhaps 'pass through' doesn't do as much justice as, 'let envelope you'. The door may or may not be a rigid structure, with too-solidly built expectations of a room. What have you decided?
Perhaps you decide not to make any decision at all. Not at least until the universe reveals a little more to you.
What is perspiring?

These revelations, could they help us decide in-line with a flow so fluid, so nourishing that we are empowered to eventually steer the ship ourselves? Lacing our every movement, every vision with the power of a unity with that which makes no mistakes.

That is, unless you've decided what a mistake is.

poetry in motion

2011-03-18T13:36:00.001-04:00

“my hands want to hide in your hair, slowly stroke the depth of your hair while we kiss with mouths full of flowers or fish, of living movements, of dark fragrance. and if we bite each other, the pain is sweet, and if we drown in a short and terrible surge of breath, that instant death is beauty. and there is a single saliva and a single flavour of ripe fruit, and i can feel you shiver against me like a moon on the water.”

- julio cortázar, rayuela, 1963

Thanks to only on de marit for this gem. Kind of my other-half when you look at our sub titles...
Theirs: This is not for you.
Mine: This is for you.

sixto

2011-03-18T01:40:00.006-04:00

the artist’s ^artist

http://bit.ly/gYERrR

2011-03-18T00:30:00.002-04:00

"This incident is one of our last calls to change our mind and behavior. Simply, as a species we cannot continue like this, time is over. It was over long ago... Animals and plants know about this, they have been patiently trying to guide some of us into a better existence, teaching us about stillness, telepathy and the unseen world. They know way more of what we know... And now, in this nuclear incident, who think about them, who is concerned about the dolphins, whales, and all the wild life that might be affected by a potential nuclear fallout? Not a single reference on the net. I find this funny... to say the least.

Regardless of what is happening outside I am very optimistic and in a very positive mood... how can I be in a positive mood while witnessing such devastation? Well, it simply means transformation. Nothing truly new, and as we know, we are all going through the filter in one way or another."

music is my soul, yoga is my heart, body is in service, bridging worlds apart

2011-03-11T21:55:00.004-05:00

Twitter has slyly satisfied my writing in little bits, allowing me to give and release drops at a time while behind the dam a tidal wave was where I swam, awaiting the moment when, [Oh our dear Japan...]
Satisfaction in a wide worded composition, take your time to listen while letters repeat the silence half way towards sound
My writing has been employed under other capacities, with a more structured tone of late
Yes this too is great, it's all alright, it's ok
Notebooks I carry with me, notebooks behind my bed on the window ledge, books abound fill with an array of notes for work, notes for play-work, notes for good-work, notes for love-mind-body-work.
Insights and must-do's, he, she and they all too
Me-isms from a flash of the mass of places I've placed my head, attention fed, fed, fed
Drop the work as it may seem. Undo its seams stress the intenseness of absolute loss into a 'this' -- at once you'll leave and find yourself
And she comes up for air
taking gulps between a depth swallowing sorrow, and a surface returning tears on a steady stream of all-consuming I-don't-know-how-much-love-my-heart-can-hold this is it's beat: running over and down my cheeks; yes, it's free, free, free
Like a journalist chasing the next-best lead
Impressions picked up from agendas, stories told from the book of life with our talents pointing to Omega point procession adding layers of new repetitions
And a name lost in the aisles of history creeps into my 21st century screen to place into me here those timeless realities -- whilst lilies invisibly mark the air I breathe
And at once with that she's thrust back into her seat where slides slipped by a screen along a wooden-paneled wall with ceilings high enticing dreams; Paris, school-girl scenes
Close-ups remain imprinted upon the brain Campin's altarpiece his details all are she sees
Eerie coincidences cease not to paint her nearto folly of I-can't-believe
Which of course means that's what must be, it must be, there's no clearer way, it has but thrust it'self upon my head and shivers run throughout, felt to awaken even those proclaimd dead long ago without a doubt
In this sea of possibilities how does my free will dictate such impossible chance to let it be
this my dear, the magic dance, catch the reflection, glimpse the trance

While Galliano was weeping

2011-03-03T12:42:00.001-05:00

In another part of Paris this weekend......

A Saturday-night reveler left a present for Sunday strollers, Boulelvard St. Michel

'tsup?

2011-02-26T13:18:00.003-05:00

Bloom

2011-02-18T13:08:00.003-05:00

I dance like this at home everyday. Thom, thanks for inspiring me to record it with a sick set of words on buttered bass lines. Wouldn't work the same, but you did it for us all.
Go home and STRIP (+/your identity off) to this song, writhing to whatever your body hears.
Essence, come forth from our eyes closed focusing in.to[o]
I don't care who you are.
Just a suggestion.
Are you really alive?

Words:
I will sneak myself into your pocket
Invisible, do what you want, do what you want
I will sink and I will disappear
I will slip into the groove and cut me up and cut me up
There’s an empty space inside my heart
Where the wings take root
So now I’ll set you free
I’ll set you free
There’s an empty space inside my heart
And it won’t take root
Tonight I’ll set you free
I’ll set you free
Slowly we unfurl
As lotus flowers
And all I want is the moon upon a stick
Dancing around the pit
Just to see what it is
I can’t kick the habit
Just to feed your fast ballooning head
Listen to your heart
We will sink and be quiet as mice
While the cat is away and do what we want
Do what we want
There’s an empty space inside my heart
And now it won’t take root
And now I set you free
I set you free
Because all I want is the moon upon a stick
Just to see what it is
Just to see what gives
Take the lotus flowers into my room
Slowly we unfurl
As lotus flowers
All I want is the moon upon a stick
Dance around a pit
The darkness is beneath
I can’t kick the habit
Just to feed my fast ballooning head
Listen to your heart

Watch:

Wonder:
Are you un-self-conscious enough to let yourself be taken that far, that sublimely?
With or without anyone watching?

Why:
Because it's beautiful and people feel/think/move/talk/transcend thanks to it.

Dance like you can't judge.

Who died and made you the weather man?

2011-02-02T14:30:00.000-05:00

Looking at this with an automatically anthropological eye, it comforts me, makes me feel like it wouldn't hurt to have other such seemingly senseless ceremonies. Gatherings of people for reasons not-so-serious, not so entirely focused on over-stimulating celebration either, something sort of in the middle... Sort-of way SILLY:

&amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;gt;Ment

Men in top hats, bow ties. A gang of 'em standing around a groundhog who's wondering, "WTF?, Ouch you're squeezing too tight, I want to go back in my burrow now, Who are all those big animals out there and why are they cheering at me" etc, etc.

It's so primitive in a way, so wonderfully arbitrary, heartening that we are giving our faith over to a superstition on a wide scale (regardless of the underlying self-aware skepticism). No need for statistics to verify, to prove that ritual, regardless of outcome, has an effect... I mean, they got suited for this thing. And the scroll? Don't tell me that bit about the Steelers wasn't planned.

Here's to that so-called early Spring

...

2011-02-01T17:28:00.006-05:00

&amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;gt;

Comments:
"This man can do no wrong!"
"listening to this on public transport at night with good headphones is like mixing a panic attack with an orgasm"
"After listening to this I don't know whether to smile, sleep, cry, chill or smoke a fat spliff. Definitely a spliff. Then the other four."
"fuck off james blake. you're too good."

If your plane began to free fall from the sky...

2011-02-01T12:44:00.003-05:00

and you made it out alive...

"Here's the question: what do you change?

Whom do you call that you haven't spoken to in years?

Whom do you realize has been toxic to your heart and drop with surprising ease?

What trips do you cancel, and what trips do you book?

What can't you be bothered with anymore?

What's the new you like?

Think about that, and then ask one more question.

Why not just change it all right now?"

This Is What You Shall Do

2011-01-27T15:54:00.000-05:00

This is what you shall do:
Love the earth and sun and the animals,
Despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks,
Stand up for the stupid and crazy,
Devote your income and labors to others,
Hate tyrants, argue not concerning God,
Have patience and indulgence toward the people,
Take off your hat to nothing known or unknown,
Or to any man or number of men,
Go freely with powerful uneducated persons,
And with the young and with the mothers of families,
Read these leaves in the open air,
Every season of every year of your life,
Reexamine all you have been told,
At school at church or in any book,
Dismiss whatever insults your own soul,
And your very flesh shall be a great poem,
And have the richest fluency not only in its words,
But in the silent lines of its lips and face,
And between the lashes of your eyes,
And in every motion and joint of your body.

Oh F**k

2011-01-25T12:43:00.000-05:00

Pardon my French but this is amazing

Susheela covers Bobs well

&amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;gt;Par

She's Got it Covered

2011-01-25T12:31:00.000-05:00

Gorgeous

Heard this last night and fell in love with her take

KIND OF REVOLUTIONARY

2011-01-20T22:35:00.001-05:00

Osho's 10 Commandments

2011-01-20T22:22:00.000-05:00

via Wiki:

In his early days as Acharya Rajneesh, a correspondent once asked Osho for his "Ten Commandments". In reply Osho noted that it was a difficult matter because he was against any kind of commandment but, "just for fun", set out the following;

“

Never obey anyone's command unless it is coming from within you also.
There is no God other than life itself.
Truth is within you, do not search for it elsewhere.
Love is prayer.
To become a nothingness is the door to truth. Nothingness itself is the means, the goal and attainment.
Life is now and here.
Live wakefully.
Do not swim – float.
Die each moment so that you can be new each moment.
Do not search. That which is, is. Stop and see.

”

He underlined numbers 3, 7, 9 and 10. The ideas expressed in these Commandments have remained constant leitmotifs in his movement.

cover letter

2011-01-20T11:01:00.000-05:00

Hello,

I am a yoga teacher living in _____ and have been practicing for over ten years, having begun teaching last year. My goal as an instructor is to build strength while encouraging release and mindfulness of movement's power when coupled with awareness of the ceaseless breath. I once read a quote "The trust that others place in you is your grace". Before others can trust us, we must be able to trust ourselves, to establish an open relationship with the ebb and flow of life, having confidence in our ability to work with challenges and benefit from them. Trust is authentic awareness and its application to nurturing, progressive choices which encourage growth. Trust is letting go of preconceived ideas of an end, trust is allowing the moment to reveal grace. Already, as embodied yogis, dancers; movers and shakers, we've oriented our lives towards the health and happiness a solid connection with the body and mind can bring. And with this connection, we are sometimes granted that gift of transcendence, of grace in the trust of our choices at each moment. As teachers, we are so lucky to have the opportunity to share this self-trust with others. The students are a gift and their trust is our grace.

Much love,
Alexandra

No Comment Needed

2011-01-14T21:38:00.001-05:00

Peeking Steel Between Steel

2011-01-14T13:35:00.000-05:00

homophones

2011-01-14T13:16:00.002-05:00

Vous faites quoi aujourd'hui? What are you (formal or plural, 'you all') doing today?

Tu fêtes quoi aujourd'hui? What are you (informal) celebrating today?

Formally, you, we all, have to be doing something. But those who know you well enough to be informal like to look at it as a celebration.

Keep Climbing

2011-01-10T17:57:00.001-05:00

Dope.

Ganesh [8b+] par Gérôme Pouvreau from Petzl-sport on Vimeo.

Thanks to

The Truth is Like Your Mother....

2011-01-07T12:09:00.001-05:00

....always right.

The first few seconds of a song will usually a) rub me right or b) incite 'next', depending on my mood.

Then there are those nights where a long trip home is accompanied by good music no matter what song comes on. You can sink into the sound happily because you get past your 'mood' and feel energy on any and all levels. Ride it.

So, on nights like these, some songs get their shining moments to become 'that song', until the next one comes around...

Last night this played, and then 2:38 gets up in your face and says "HEY! HOLY @*#& aren't I good?"

Scare Yoga

2011-01-04T23:50:00.000-05:00

At the end of a class today, while everyone was resting in their nice final relaxation corpse pose, their little cells running around to slow down and integrate what just happened, there came a slight noise from afar. A crash bang of sorts. Muffled and faraway though it was.

It set my mind off on a chain reaction; the shock of an unexpected noise to a freshly worked-out and now totally-relaxing person. And then I imagined what it would be like if I let out a blood curdling scream. Out of no where. While this room full of people were at complete, innocent rest. It took all I had not to burst out laughing. Not to snicker, even.

The little devil was dancing on my shoulder.

private mysticism

2011-01-03T22:11:00.001-05:00

the way you close your eyes while brushing your teeth, tracing cleanliness like a sheet of paper pressed to a window, lighting the way over established lines
the morning you were alone and in a quiet way, witnessed a bird playing with a feather clasped in its beak, then released. the perfect turns in flight to swoop in sharply and catch it again. an engineer's precision.
the swell
knowing when to stop, when a work is finished
finding an ending opening into transition
the tug that always brings you back to it
like a person who can't be let go because
you could never have them, truly
the powerful motion backed by steadied breath and the sunlight breaks through the window onto only your mat. you don't have to you know you are connected, the fact is upon you
that quirky Rolodex you store in your head, facts and figures filed almost independently of your will
the sense of knowing when you've found something worth developing, an idea, a technique, a seed you've been looking to nourish
the pains, revealing
a joy in daring

three days later

2011-01-02T12:10:00.001-05:00

less spam more love letters, less rush more focus, less keyboard more pen & paper,
less nostalgia more implementation, less excuses more solutions, less perfection more mistakes,
less noise more listen, less toys more play, less forgetting more inventing, less hesitation more experimentation,
less hacks more pass it down, less habit more respect, less me me me more I eye aye

Since '05

2010-12-29T18:30:00.002-05:00

Traveling !

2010-12-29T15:01:00.001-05:00

oh my god I just discovered this!!! them! Thank you internet!!! Who knew craigslist would throw me down a rabbit hole to come out with these monkeys?

PS want Roy Orbison's glasses

We'll bury 'em?

A Toast

2010-12-24T19:41:00.005-05:00

It's the night before Christmass and as a token of gratitude and love, I would like to share a mantra of my very own making that will hopefully bestow magnificent wonders upon you.

Take a moment and picture me at the ripe age of 16, it's the end of the school year and the hard work is about to pay off. That extra Spanish class I added to my schedule a full two years prior? It was all for this: a week-long trip to Málaga and the Costa del Sol (or, as my cheap souvenir towel says, Costa de Sol).
The group gathered to reap the benefits of our high school's notorious end-of-year Spain trip, was also the group that had the officials back home call the whole thing off for future generations of would-be revelers. Though I can't take full responsibility, it's hard to deny that letting a bevvy of American teenagers loose in a European resort town (and it's environs) is asking for some measure of trouble.

I digress.

I also love catchy, impactful, succinct lines.

And as we're toasting the night of San Juan festival, our very near states of blissful intoxication, and the beach bar we're overy impressed and excited with, I blurt out a most satisfying soliloquy which has accompanied my celebrations ever since.

This Christmass, I share it in the hopes that my simple mantra will improve the lives of all who allow it reign over their raised glasses, their elevated spirits:

Good luck, success, good sex

If this trifecta could work its magic in more lives, I think we'd be that much closer to world peace.

XXX

Moi

I AM THAT

2010-12-20T23:35:00.002-05:00

That is here

voyager

2010-12-12T16:42:00.003-05:00

For the trains, planes, and automobiles
that take us to our dreams
along the way,
this is for you
for the whizzing sunsets and blink-n-miss it pastures
for the comfort of being in someone else's hands
signed, sealed and
delivered
remember that 15-hour stretch
chugging over borders
provinces, regions
the change was subtle
I'd look up from my book to make sure I didn't miss it
they still had smoking cars then
and the Pyrenees were gorgeous
on to that dark ride
sent off alone and young in the middle of the night
a little scared a little sad
but you had the sleeper all to yourself
and so you wrote and wrote about missing home
at least you knew what it was you were missing
between the capital and the city of your summers
courtyard echoing in games and giggles
someone who loved you would be waiting when you arrived
or that time, cuddled against your father
reluctant to be without your mother
yet when the train stopped dead in its tracks
you were glad he was there to have your back
nervous stillness, "why aren't we moving?"
it was late then too
and the countryside didn't offer any light
wondering, where's the moon?
to pass the time he told you stories
misadventures in the mountains as a boy
your imagination ran with it
the picture of him filled in a little more
for that Towncar
that fed you
though it made a ghost of the bread winner
falling asleep at the wheel
grown tired of chasing that supposed dream
and you never looked at the driver's window the same
upon hearing the story
facing a barrel, 3 a.m.
that was real
for the cozy backseat
that let your longer-than-average little legs stretch
with your head in a pillow lap
up and down the eastern seaboard
DC to skiis in VT
and all the wealthy neighborhoods in between
everyone in the car groaning
let's go
but no, no
there's architecture to marvel at
openly despise
McMansions got the brunt of it
the extra seat filled by an aunt or uncle
depending on the season
co-pilot, reading off trajectories
that's where my relationship began
with maps
with directions
she always knows where north is
and the stars would help
through that sunroof
oh there were mishaps a-plenty
fights and escaping from a moving car
fugitive scars
it could never be normal with us
at least I can laugh about it
now
but we were delivered,
barely together
to the tops of vistas
to the edge of the sea
to those sights we supposedly
had to see
sunsets calmed down
fresh aired it out
misting falls
hideous ponchos from hell
with missy climbing a tree
bored of posing
for future memories
are we there yet?
just to fit the bill
catching your next flight
electing your seat
as if, it couldn't be, it couldn't be
the destination can't change
everything
but those
4-hour nights
light's turn-around
bite-sized and stellar
an in-flight gift making your trip out of line
that much more magical, a potential for pleasure
seated
in the sky
countless looking up as you pass by
with that thought
that question
where are they headed
the ticket knows
not the grand plans once on land
to be honest
neither does the holder
but the lightness of flying
will keep you on your toes
if not a smidge too controlled
security high
counters the freedom
of the sky
so sit back, relax
pace the cabin a bit
pull over for that dinner
on an eerie storming lake along your way
pick up the hitchiker, him with the guitar and a three-legged dog
if you don't act fast enough
you can still reverse down a 3-lane highway
just don't tell them I said it was ok
and, obviously, use the shoulder
upgrade when you can
but it's always more fascinating
to sit with the common man
pick a stranger for stories
share your own
snail's pace chugging to TGV
oh, the places you'll be
buy the ticket
take the ride
chart the
discover the landscape
of your life

Re: blank

2010-12-10T13:58:00.000-05:00

"I love it when the least likely blank becomes a blank, because it reminds me that things are not as prohibitive as I think they are when I'm in neutral."
- Robert Downey Jr.

the underside

2010-12-04T00:56:00.002-05:00

l'or du temps

2010-12-04T00:42:00.004-05:00

un bon jour, tu verras. tu vas te réveiller, sans même croire que les temps sont passé si vite.

il la regardai avec des yeux, des yeux qui montrer tout.

a quoi ça sert une montre ? c'est pas toi qui m'avais dis que les yeux montre tout ? que le temps se compte par tes regards, par des chose qu'on ne vois pas. des choses qui se montre a nous.
n'est pas? ce n'est pas ça qui donne la bonne valeur aux heures ?
c’est pas ça qui ajoute a la bonne compte ?

j'ai perdu les mots par ma bouche. les sentiments flottai parmi nos cœurs. deux têtes presque prête a compris, que y a pas vraiment grand chose a comprendre. plus intéressé a se battre.

bon gars, tous que je veux te dire c’est : perds pas ton temps.

mais le temps n'est jamais perdu. tu te rends compte? au moment quand j'en ai plus du temps, je serais plus capable a en profiter, laisse tomber. hors du temps.

hors du commun, vas y toi.

t'inquiète mobylette. c'est l'air du temps.

dans la village, l'église sonné midi.

eh-

oui.

je t'aime.

je sais.

Mommy on computer

2010-12-02T11:24:00.001-05:00

LOL to ALL!

on conforming

2010-12-02T01:09:00.002-05:00

Thank you mi Gala via heartmindspirit

Also

rub off on you

2010-12-02T00:17:00.001-05:00

Retrieving Gems

2010-12-02T00:08:00.000-05:00

Throwback

2010-11-29T22:59:00.000-05:00

When a computer asks you a question

2010-11-29T21:44:00.003-05:00

That's mine. What's yours?

in my dream

2010-11-27T23:02:00.002-05:00

I craned my neck, stood on my tippy toes to see further into his window, the higher I got, the further back my sight caught
sight of myself in a mirror
Hung up against the last of the walls within the depths
If I can see myself,
I reasoned in my dream,
If I can see myself, surely he could see me
I waved at the reflection,
It waved back
Hoping my motions would reflect into his world
And they were indeed caught
So he sat down with my image
and blew lines off a mirror
4 huge lines
While I watched these
Lines I couldn't reach
But he still needed to share with me
In my dream
I felt trapped

2010-11-24T20:58:00.002-05:00

Drive-by emailing

2010-11-23T17:16:00.004-05:00

Ever think of a ridiculous email address? Wonder who is behind it? Someone awaiting a
~~deranged~~ imaginative person to reach out and make contact.

Ever have something to say that the whole world needs to hear and you wish there was an email address that could deliver your message?

I know I have.

I do what I can. I do what I can.

Holy Cow

2010-11-22T13:41:00.003-05:00

Obtuse

2010-11-22T10:55:00.000-05:00

Solid Advice

2010-11-22T10:23:00.004-05:00

"When you see no room for innovation in the endless battling cycles of communication, it is time to seek a new environment which gives you freedom to develop intellectually."

"The greater you stretch yourself, the more fear there will be. Where fear exists, there is also the opportunity for growth. Don't hold back now - move on. Use your fear to catapult you forward."

into life

2010-11-21T13:55:00.000-05:00

these places we create as this generation, made of mingling periods
evolving ways of integrating a gap created by those past
overlapping paradox
started from zero (zero?) increased the speed between
receding newly to reconcile the outside with the inside of me,
you, like a Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde
how we shape-shift the seen personality,
differently
from the dream,
the quiet self alone
unknown
and now how we
these complexly simple ways we've drawn to
draw the outside in
exposing unseen
to our very own selves,
others as well
the gift of acheiving unity
its gratification grander
from how far
we've all come from so long
ago
greater crashes in atmosphere settling down
as we stir up more of our own
reaching closer to the center
from whence each half did divide,
consequences of combine

creating a soul
a nerve struck, jolting the source, jolted back ... ^

gdethos

2010-11-15T10:20:00.003-05:00

Master&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&Repeat
Master&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&Repeat

Master&Repeat

Master&Repeat

Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat

Master&Repeat

"It all ended on Investment Lane and Consumer Drive"

2010-11-11T21:44:00.001-05:00

An Homage to Miles Davis

2010-11-11T13:49:00.002-05:00

You know, when I was 11, I played the trumpet for about 2 months.

Charmed, I'm sure

[Edit: I accidentally wrote "John Coltrane" in the title. Hahaha! Whoops]

2010-11-11T01:02:00.005-05:00

awwww let's make this a classic night came flying onto this page like a pickle, Vlasic might
sliding through a highway of pure liquid height
strutting down a runway \arrogant mufucka i heard your knowledge tight
they toasting over this word like a language, out of sight
into pure thought that's why
level it together we're pushing the roof up off this night
flashing
faces
bulbs in places
up real high,
I'm talking those stars in the sky
literally
I'm talking astrologically, astro- girl don't get too crazy, nomically, like
Cold as balls but the sky, we still can see the light
f*ck your clouds I'm raining down smiles**, alright?

ahhhh doo do doo do do do hey hey,
memories
all the crazy shit I did tonight*
those will be the best memories
david guetta bumpin like
electrodes flowing into speakers
siiiiiiii-

of the house, no newt ginrich like
I'm rollin in the dough of life
Bring it Kid, like cudi

my therapy, who needs therapy?
hey, hey
yea, yea
do do dooo do

*not that crazy, just great peeps, drive!

**

*** It's never too late for a dance party with yourselfffffffffffffffff

Hold

2010-11-10T16:48:00.000-05:00

pulsing under pressure

2010-11-05T03:22:00.001-04:00

Banger in the mouth

2010-11-03T11:19:00.003-04:00

Ah-Ha

2010-11-02T11:04:00.000-04:00

"Apparently orgasm is the only point where your mind becomes completely empty—you think of nothing for that second. That’s why it’s so compelling—it’s a tiny taste of death. Your mind is void—you have nothing in your head save white light."
— Jeff Buckley

From

Chapter _____

2010-10-31T12:31:00.005-04:00

I'm just a big, old negative fart
You're not old! You're only 24! A friend in need is a friend indeed.

Thanks, I needed that reminder that the only thing holding me back from dying is positivity.
Hmm. S reaches for the lighter; scrape, click, flame, in lightening succession. Puts it to a wick which is not trimmed to 1/4 of an inch.
Couch fires, even when one does not have a couch, are devastating. Don't fall asleep with your cigarette lit. Or joint, for that matter. Even if they have those extra chemicals. The ones which taste like crap when you're standing outside a bar, shivering, and your smoke goes out because you've been too busy chatting with that cute, bangable person. All the while, in the back of your body the ache breaks through for, ah- you're hung up in the head. And your heart is waiting for everyone to one day convene in her chambers, pull an all-nighter.

Well you know, it's just my ease at criticizing everything. What happens when your perspective is honed by a prime judgementeur?

What? S asks semi-interested in a reply.
Listen- she starts, not waiting to waste feigning energy.

No, S, I just feel empty inside!! And hating on everything I think is wrong helps me feel productive.
Jaw drops. What a load! First of all, stop analyzing yourself; you're just laying down the train tracks to the destination your words march your mind to. TURN IT OFF. Who needs TV, a girl like you? Actually, maybe you should get one and replace those crazy mind games of yours.
Eye rolls from the peanut gallery, huh, wouldn't that be a great art space? The Peanut Gallery. D- focus, focus.
Anyway-
Second of all, empty? HA! I know you're more creative than that. Do you feel energized?
What? No, I'm empty- I feel nothing.
Bull! You're full of crap, that's what. You're not empty.
Empty yourself out and then you'll feel full. Just drop it D, drop your crap off at the dry cleaners and lose the receipt. What's that thing you say in some of your classes?

I dunno.

Energy loves a void.

Ah yea, that's a good one. A twinkle peeks through, a cracked grin.

Shake it out! Empty your words out, maybe then you'll feel full.
Who wants to feel full anyway? Thanksgiving is almost here. Ugh. Turkeys. Are they a metaphor for us? S muses. Stuffed and glistening with grease?

Come on, let's go for a walk. I want to show you something.............

Baking Powder

2010-10-27T23:29:00.004-04:00

[Persistence pays off, kids. This is my

~~third~~

fourth and final attempt at posting this damn entry. And you know what? Maybe fate wanted me to not humiliate myself by posting a ramble such as this. But I insist. This must be turned over.]

CUT TO

Sex

Now. H:ahahahahahahahaha shut up

I'm coming. Like, twice. Jesus complex. Sue me, white lunar world
bridger. Was that the one? Two?

Make me. Yea, I said it. Ohhh no she didn't

Craisins. Dried. Cranberries. Jenius mother trucker. Eeeew remember
trucker hats? BARF. Von Douche!!!

What in G*d's legal name change?

[Scenes from my screenplay-by-play]

Sharpen you knife skills, Ninja.

You know what the beast oops, best thing to do is? Accept your fate.
Except, your fate.

It's like that board (bored) game, Sorry! You take the wrong way, but
ya get to slide weeeeee. You make it either way, right?

We need bankable people. The big wigs said. Someone the masses can
look up to, can aspire to be like.
What? I want them to be like
THEMSELVES. You jerks! Go peddle your wares elsewhere. And I plucked a
cookie from their breakfast platter. Can I inspire them to listen to
their hearts? And get into their hearts first, you know, preach the
goodstuff?
Look up the word in the dictionary, their expressions pop up- dubious. Level it off, you've lost them.
Society can only evolve as much as the least evolved man. Oh, f*uck!!
What happened to the teacher at the back of the line? Wasn't she supposed to hurry those stragglers along? Is she the least evolved? Cross the dang street already!
Listen, we don't care about society. We're sitting like some fat, stuffed Christmas ducks on this stock and need to sell, or we'll explode and tax payers are pretty sick of cleaning up the mess, ya catch my drift. So we need you. That buzz--
Will it sell these 60,000 t-shirts we had slave-crafted in Cambodia?
Mannn fuck you! What if your mom was working in that factory? Huh?
Think about that. Man. I mean really. Think about it. Take a damn
tshirt from the goodwill box and craft some shit. You think recycling
is limited to those blue bins? Fuck your trash organizer.
My subway stop's got the word CLASS in it. Take that and put it in
your damn pipe and smoke it. Yea, stick it in the tail pipe of that
Cadillac escalope de veau. Bone up man! Killing animals and shit your
carbon footprint is Jurassic! Fuck, the hybrid.
You ever hear of the Butterfly Effect? Yea, forget it. Welcome, the Stampede of Elephants Effect. You must not be thinking on the same scale as you're acting on. It's too bad.
We in the same boat, you claim?
You're probably right.
Only my boat is sailing, not docked and anchored.
With SAILS. That butterfly? Its fallen cocoon shook the cliffs deep within the sea. That wave is carrying me!
Your seamstress? Yea, the one who could be your mother? The pin she dropped while sewing those cotton-poly blend t-shirts just tripped her colleague. Why? Because her back is bad. And she had to stick her leg out to retrieve it.
That fallen woman tried to catch herself on a sewing machine in motion.
She lost a finger!

And you want me to get on QVC and SELL THIS CRAP!?

Oooooooooooooh

2010-10-27T10:53:00.001-04:00

Hooked.

James Blake covers Feist

Exposes

Soul

And I wonder if somehow, a beauty mark on the back of your neck's right half flags you as
Touched

Touché

Something like an owl

decon-text-ualized

2010-10-21T17:09:00.002-04:00

"just meet them where they are, different people often, so no continuity to work from., take it slow and you'll see where their limits are"

SMS speaking multiple secrets

FUCK ART

2010-10-21T10:42:00.004-04:00

Things should fall into either of two categories (if it serves both then we're talking a third category, genius):

Beautiful
or
Useful

Unfortunately for beauty, beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them (merci, Hume) and many minds declaring beauty have ceased to contemplate at all.
'Art' has taken an anti-heroic fall where respect is paid to those deserving
none at all.

My Bootlegged Book Club: Hysteri(c)a(l) Edition

2010-10-14T11:57:00.001-04:00

The things that make one laugh reveal a lot about that person, don't they? Well, I don't know exactly what this reveals about me (though I have some inklings) but slapstick, physical comedy gets me roaring. I mean, curled in a ball, face falling off, tears in your eyes, wailing like a banshee, breath out of breath, sick to your stomach, eventually laughing at how hard you're laughing, laughing. And last night, that was me. A girl laughing so hard that if my fit was taken out of context and shown as a short video clip to passersby on the street to gather their opinions, 5 out of 6 might venture to ask, "Is this what hysteria looks like?" I am not ashamed.

So as part of my ever-notorious, MBBC, I bring to you pages 114-117 (or chapter 29 into 30) of my new favorite author Kurt Vonnegut's Timequake. If there's a chance you'll laugh as hard and as well as I did, it'd be an outright crime not to share this...

ENJOY

I feel your pain, KV.