1001 Disco Days

Lackluster dance but good meditation. I just finished the book fairyland by Alysia Abbott about her father the poet Steve Abbott. It is a heartbreaking account of losing a parent. And intense Meditation on death. Also the new Lapham's quarterly came in the mail and the theme of this quarter is death. There is a breakdown in there showing exactly how our bodies decompose, which bacteria take over 10 days in, which maggots 30 days and etc. so this morning in the graveyard it was on my mind more than usual, death. All the photos on the grave, mostly stern unhappy faces of our ancestors, the way life can be worse than death sometimes.   Not mine though! This dance is for you, Steve Abbott. This guy is alright Nice do Black winged dissolution Mr. Bean Leaves the earth Lamb sunrise

Maestro, music please. Electro swing does Danny Kaye. Thank you. Roses on Mose's toeses.  Found a Chinese lantern on a tree. Hung it on an angel.

More Janelle Monae. More joy. Ecstatic graveyard sunrise dance. But never enough. Until you die too. Which is soon enough. Later -now- listening to mark doty talk about frank ohara on youtube. Which brought Tears of bliss.

 After a week of not dancing (because my dad was visiting and I couldn't get to bed on time) I was like a bull out of the gates this morning. I was also excited to listen to the new Janelle Monae. The first track had me feeling like I was flying. At one point the cord fell out and the music stopped and I felt like I was crashing to the ground. Which made me laugh.  Leave feeling inspired. Bye thanks, bye Ya Ya, bye Mike Kelly, bye energy New York. And it makes me want to and spotter. Ha ha, let me try that again. Lately I feel inspired inspired by New York, by banksy, by Mike Kelley, by Yaya, by NYC. And it leaves me wanting to inspire you.

Tonight after. Week of no dancing but much walking a dance of pure celebration elation. Because of finishing the draft of my secret in a box novel.  Because of my dad seeing Franco live on letterman the night after I dreamed him.  Because of seeing banksy masterpiece in Queens the one day it was up and actually being able to add something to it, my daughters, echoes in eternity. For Archetypos finishing up.  For life in ny beginning For Bloomfield college writing sample. For mike Kelley at ps 1. For jonathon Lethem at Sunnyside community center. All to art of electric swing starring Ella Fitzgerald.

Dancing down to see Jonathan Lethem read from Dissident gardens, novel about Sunnyside, loss of community, which is ironic. Afterwords I saw the crew from the Sunnyside Gardens community garden and told them that they were the real dissident garden. They laughed.  Listened to Chelsea light moving, thurston's new gig. And he is part of the poet community. Brandon downing turned me onto it yesterday when we visited. Nevermind that I was already fb friends with clm. Nevermind  that my daughter lost Brandon's wife's spiral pencil.  Then danced down for monthly Ecuadorean haircut,. Magic everywhere.

Smarting from a friend's disrespect. I lay in bed this morning and couldn't get it out of my head. Also found out a hs classmate commits manslaughter. I go dance to get unstuck. It helps. Positive vibrations of the Marley boys.

Teaches by Peaches. Got tot.  Such a good dance record. Flying through the cemetery.  Gaught taught. I wished everyone could be there with me. But especially you.   A peach of a tree Sunnyside changes to darkside on Halloween.

Caught up in the vicissitudes of the ego. Deep into the dance graveyard when the thought of an unanswered letter practically felled me. And then thought about how my recent art review was also not even responded to by the artist. It is difficult to believe that it was bad, but hard to come to any other conclusion. The same thing goes with the meditation music I recently put out on Facebook, no responses. Even though I asked for them. I really have no friends among all of those 600 that would help me? Am I really that alone in my aesthetics, among my so called friends? Have I not been a good friend? I know that my ego needs be crushed. There is the black squirrel. Kali in the temple. Call me in the temple. Dance of the ego, different kinds of dance. To the drawing board.

Dancing down second avenue dodging the people is fun. From 42nd to 5th. Did one swinging leap from scaffolding. Feeding off energy of the city.  Met Anselm and talked about 2666. Fierce  Love it to death Good one Magic mandala Anselm took me to lamp district George Shneeman tiles at pizza joint At the awesome mast bookstore. While I was reading this poem a homeless man walked behind me and said "you don't know nothing about suffering!"

Tombstone tango. Jam rock gravestone. Damien Marley today. Perfect morning. Knowing Winter is coming sweetens the mornings of temperance left to us.