Monday, April 28, 2014


For some reason I could not get up this morning to go out, maybe because I was sucked into an article about Shakespeare's relics by Adam Copp Nick in the New Yorker.

Anyway tonight I went out to write, and on the way I listened to my own songs, especially bazooka, the writing song for Scott, and I had a mad dance down Queens Boulevard.

Shit man, everyone of these is gold and will last forever. God bless the Internet.

I called Steven Nixon and talk to him about the structure of my novel, the dream in the box. The secret of the box. He told me to lose the ad verbs! 

I like the way that AutoCorrect changed adverbs. I am such a word nerd.

But yes a ad that verbs. Or a verb it advertises itself.

Like shoots of gold in the spring. So beautiful here in Sunnyside.

Also in my mind I put out and LP, fumes making us dizzy, the first four songs of Matthews slo children dump.

At one point fully engaged in the music as I flew down the street.

Friday, April 25, 2014


Tabu Rey on Pandora. Full lift off starting with the beat and then lifting into the horns. But then crashed when the headphones went bad. 

Chanted to the beat of my steps instead. Om Namah Shivaya. 

Thinking about a poem--

Sea of Names

I wrote my daughters' names large 

In the sand. We all three jumped 

Into the letters. "Look, 

I'm jumping into the "C" 

Of Lucia," I said to Sofia.

She got it.

"Hey, that's a pun!" she said

As she went to jump into the sea

Of Sofia. It was a new kind of selfie.


Thursday, April 24, 2014

AnaLucia says

Daddy is lucky he can walk


This morning was epic.  It has been a while.

I was planning on going to play disc golf by myself, a half hour drive from Myrtle Beach where we are staying. But when I looked up the course it was so heavily wooded and w/o map that I knew I would lose either my disk or myself. 

So instead I forged my own course. I danced my way away from the ocean And into the housing developments to the West. After I passed the development I came across an empty lot across from a fleamarket called, appropriately, Everything Under The Sun. 

I mentally made a disc golf course around the perimeter of the huge lot. Somewhere around hole 4 I found a cement platform with a hole in it. Directly across from the tee was Everything Under The Sun. As if on cue the Mario Brothers sound effects hip-hop mix made by my friend Rob came over the headphones. Suddenly I found myself playing disc golf and Mario Brothers at the same time... while dancing. The hole on the tee morphed into a manhole in the game and I went under for the gold coins. There were more under there than I could account for.

After the game I headed back to the beach for a Sun salutation. 

When I walked onto the beach I saw my father-in-law walking solo. He cut a fine silhouette against the ocean. 

If you blow the picture up you can see "everything under the sun" in the distance. Mario Brother manhole in the foreground.

Gold coins coming up from underground

Mermaids live! Believe it or not!

On the way home I met this friendly guy

I love the spiralling weave of these trees

Dr. George taking his constitutional.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014


On Myrtle Beach trying to shake something. Freedom to shut your eyes and dance .because the beach is so wide. White Stripes into Zeppelin yesterday. Gogol Bordello today. "Forces of the creative mind are sup p p p le."

Also the Memory of the woman in the wheelchair last week going down the street in Williamsburg and letting shop owners know that she did not at all appreciate the lack wheelchair access. Thinking about the way her own issues and anger at her situation were projected onto the shop owners, but also the way the shop owners needed to hear this.

Friday, April 11, 2014


My FB friend Robin Artisson wrote yesterday "Nothing can be kept secret, really secret, from the right sort of dancer."

So I meditated on that as I danced this morning, getting lost in the dance where everything is revealed.


This picture cracked me up on local Filipino restaurant door.

Easter egg hunt in the graveyard anyone?

Urban minimalist update of The Goldfinch

This fellow (Canadian?) taking a rest from flying North in the local graveyard. Solo.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014


This morning I had an authentic experience. Capital authentic. 

So hard to get up, haven't gone out for two weeks. My mom was here. I don't know what that was all about.

The Gypsy moves you from behind sings Bob Dylan on New Morning. And I think when i hear it this new morning, yes it does. Because I'm angry when I feel low energy and depressed, pissed off not to feel as wondrously made as I am. I mean, hello! I've been reading magic school bus goes in the human body to the girls and it is amazing in there!

So the gypsy moved me to get off my ass and dance this morning, lit a fire. And I turned a corner.

Yes, I had to force the gate open


Went to see Zach Wollers paintings tonight at La Mama Galleria. Eddie, Jess Colletti, Laura, John Allen, Amy, Nicole, Becca, Charles, Karen, Sylvie, June, Brendan, Filip, Will, Desi all there. Danced there. Then back Dancing in endless subway stations dead tired and pushing it to breaking point through sheer will, listening to Gorillaz. Plastic Beach. 

thinking some rich billionaire in Dubai should build organic non plastic replica of Gorillaz' plastic beach for tourists. Shangrila big bucks playground. Check out the album cover to see what I mean. Right Irie?

Also danced to Roy Orbison in the basement with girls this morning so got some extra jig up in the mix. 


East village mural detail
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