Thursday, June 11, 2015


Thoughts on a leash, but the body moves, twice through the cemetery, to Thee Oh Sees, once at home while the girls ate dinner, to the new tripping ASAP Rocky. 

Just life at its tiring sweetest.

Can't quite tell what this bird carries in beak. (Metaphor alert)

Wednesday, June 10, 2015


Great thing about dancing is that it puts you as close to the moment as you can get, because you are following the music, and you don't know where the music will go so you you have to stay on your toes. An especially great way to start your day. 

So glad to have another ecstatic dance this morning.

Also thinking about that phrase "it's all good." A black squirrel crosses my path and I think 7 years of bad luck and then I laugh. Bad luck is impossible. There is no such thing as bad luck if you are living at the bottom of nothingness and top of everything.

But then of course there is cruelty in the world, so it isn't all good, is it?

Stare down

Great dance album! New favorite band of the month.

Sunday, June 7, 2015


I was reading an Octavio Paz poem, called Pro-Am. (Ex Dios de Maquina de auto correct, the poet's friend.)

It was about the vertigo on the edge of the cliff, falling

ringing even as the glass shattered.

Falling in the valley of sunset Verbena at the Botanic garden. Some call it Latana.

When I overheard the ladies of the bench talking:

"How's your sister?" No reply.

"You don't talk to her?" No reply.

"She doesn't even hold the door open for me anymore." No reply.

Friday, June 5, 2015


I laughed so hard at 99 and Barry this morning, their May 1st, 2015 show. I was so alive in that laughter walking to the graveyard. I had to sit down and say it. I could feel that laughter hollow out my chest, like a bellow of joy. 

What I thought I was doing when I started this project was far less than what I am doing. I thought I was just trying to live my life, get in at least 1000 more dances. But I realized this morning that what I am actually doing is learning how to master being in the moment. Like yesterday starting out with that pigeon in the morning, scattering debris and leaves. Somehow this lead to baby goslings in Central Park in the afternoon, which lead to catching Alex Katz' painting of Kenneth Koch's face on the cover of KK's collected at a bookstore this evening.  Only $4!

And even though I want to tell these stories to you, because I love you, these words are only faint pointing toward the moment. Except when you read them,  because then we are in a different moment, together, and that is worthwhile too.

After writing the above I got up to dance again. I put the mix back and and a Richard Hell song came on. And I thought of Noel, who is friends with Richard Hell. And then I came upon this one doorway in the graveyard, a magic portal, where I always meet characters from my past and dance with them, or for them. This morning I didn't try to think of anyone, and not thinking of anyone reminded me of Walt Whitman's line about liking to inhale in the air without a trace of perfume. And suddenly this thought lead to Walt himself standing there, nearly in the flesh. There was almost a sexual spark in seeing him there, a feeling. He really did turn up under my bootsoles, in the hair of soldiers grown up as grass all around me. And he did it through words, translating his body back into words, complete alchemy. Words become flesh. Scripture. And then flesh becomes words. Scripture. And then words become flesh again, and there he is.

Thursday, June 4, 2015


I did yoga while listening to baby Dee singing the robin's tiny throat. Then ran for six minutes. The moment was sanctified when I watched a pigeon scatter leaves and debris with her wings as she rose off the sidewalk and into the sky. 

Prose: she a Conrad Stephen Boyer turned me on to BBC. Started plank challenge, running challenge.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015


The following story is one I often think about (but without the self deprecating part) and I thought about it again this morning as I kicked a nut around the graveyard.

Monday, June 1, 2015


I was dancing for the dance when I got mine cut up an entrance. I took a break from writing this, forming in for the show at Shangri-La, hit the pavement to go visit Marlene's. There we spoke of a party with an art show, and poetry, and music, and Banksy, and dancing. June 20. 

On the way home I decided to run for three minutes. Dance run. Going to add one minute every day until I build to one full hour. Train me for Spain. 

Sat down for some more of the days. Then I danced the cranks out of my neck.

Ana Kitic at Marlene's