Thursday, May 16, 2013


April 18

Dancing to snoop again, this time in Stewart State Forest, and a solitary field bigger than a football field. I heard there was still hunting in this forest but it just so happens I am wearing the orange flannel Diandra gave to me, so I'm safe. And I worry about ticks this part of the world and snoop says text talk. And I worry about hunters and snoop says Buck one buck to buck 3.

Line Them up. Red shotgun shells on the ground yellow shotgun shells on the ground.

Walk through the forest, old rock Road. I feel like his abandoned, like a warehouse. But at some point, and now having switch to King Sunny how day, that old standby, a bicyclist and a yellow sleek yuppie Rain jacket. I can only imagine what he makes of me. I see myself from a distance, orange flannel drooped around my waist like a skirts, bright blue absolute Colorado T-shirt, in old New York forest. Shimmy and shake through the trees like a snake.

Resolved to get this blog off the ground as part of my other blog, one piece of art a month. The art for this month is the 1001 dances blog.

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