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Showing posts from 2017
It was an unexpected day. I want to write about it but I'm falling over. I got stuck in Atlanta. We had to evacuate as there was an electrical grid outage. Long walk out through dark corridors all the way to baggage claim, must've been a mile walking through dark terminals filled with electrical smoke. Surreal. People having panic attacks. One person had a seizure.  But then, amidst the chaos, in this one corridor, there was this beautiful art from Zimbabwe, stone sculptures, and I had stop and look. I couldn't not. Finally got out of airport and into a hotel shuttle. We all got to talking in the van and I mentioned that I was going to miss my grandmother's funeral and there were warm sounds of sympathy all around. Then a grandmother said that she was going to miss her granddaughter's birth and that felt like poetic symmetry. Soon afterward this same woman had a kind of belated panic attack, laughing and crying uncontrollably and taking off her clothes. We rolle

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Dance down to LAGCC

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The 6 year old Lucia and the 9 year old Juliet have locked into a tableaux and Sofia is left out, so I take her on, and we have more fun by far. First we play wrestle fun time, a game where I try to push Sofia over (onto the bed) and she tries to stay on her feet. She beat me 3 sets, 11/12, 11/4  and 11/8. Next we improvised Heart and Soul on the piano for 10 minutes. And finally we put on this weird Elvis Costello/The Roots mashup record (packaged like a Citylights book) and danced. Or I'm dancing and she's along for the wild flying rollercoaster ride. Yep yep yep

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Want to start up again. In a pushing through the difficulty barrier kind of way. Building strength and body. 40 years in the forest. Breakdown in class. Abject failure as a teacher. Taught EB White's "Once more to the lake" and Annie Dillard's "Total Eclipse", both existential breakdown pieces. I read them to myself while the classes slept. Literally. Having my own solipsistic experience. So to shake off the panic I dance. Only for 3 or 4 songs. Some playlist on Spotify. Tinariwin. Breaking through the cocoon of death. Time to fight. 40 years. Then die in peace.

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a pastiche of dances Dancing home from teaching to Louis Armstrong singing the songs of WC Handy, care of Murakami's 1Q84 allusion to the music. And because he just died, to Fats Domino, "I'm walking," (could be the dance walking theme song.) And on my bike, and on the way to pick up the girls. And then to African Spotify playlist. Mother of a first grader in PS 150 walks up behind me and says she needs a little of what I've got. I'm a little embarrassed, but mostly okay. Always caught in that bind in this society. I was listening to the African music because an African dance performance by Manekadang, "music as language," concurred with my E101 class, so we took a short field trip. "In Africa music and dance are a way of living." --Maguette Camara, of Manekadang, at LaGuardia Community College. Now I want to move to Senegal. At least in spirit. Dancing all the time, as a way of life, that is the dream. Here's a strange

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Reading Murakami's 1Q84 and he has this great passage about Louis Armstrong playing the songs of W.C. Handy so I listened to it on the way home from teaching, feeling great, doing the 1,2,3 pause 4 suffle. Super good. Thinking to myself that I should make how-to YouTube video of how to Dance Walk. If I do it right... working backward here. This is one of my students. Imani. Psychedelic Palm Reading. Indeed. The arch above is at the entrance to the college. First time I'd noticed it, probably because of b&w photo challenge on FB, has me looking around. Anyway, it's sculptural, not structural, and I love how it looks like a harp, and a bridge, both excellent metaphors for education. The Woody Allen was up in the hallway, as were the international flags, also things I haven't noticed before.

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Was in the graveyard on my morning walk dance and had the thought that though life is grand, feel like I'm working at level eight out of 10, that actually my eight probably looks like a two to someone who is really woke. Then this song by The Alabama Shakes came on and seemed to confirm and encourage Started with the second fats domino record, been listing to him since he died a few days ago. Had no idea he was still alive. His music is interesting, Built more for comfort than speed, less a precursor of rock 'n' roll, and closer to rock steady, reggae in it's spirit

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After party at German Ben's I went with Quinn to Project Life in Woodside for an art opening. I danced at the party a bit, and then Quinn brought along a speaker so I dancewalked to Bill Withers and White Stripes on the way to the show and back home. H -"

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My mom is in town so I took her to a party at NYU's Skirball called "Aunts Is Dance", a free event, with several dance performances and a Free Boutique. The idea of the Free Boutique is that you bring something to the party to give away, and in return you shop among the other things people have contributed. It's a great idea. I forgot to bring something to add to the boutique, so I ran around SoHo until I came across the Magic shop, went in and bought several 7 sided magic dice and a pack of Magic cards to add to the mix. On the way back to the theater I stopped to get a coffee. The barista had her back to me as I approached the counter. Then she spun around in a dramatic manner, put her chin on her hand and said, "What can I do for you, fine sir?" I said, "Wow, that's the best greeting by a barista I've ever gotten." She said, "I do what I can. I'm a professional." As a tip I gave her one of the 7-sided dice I bought. She

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hmm. nothing was recorded here. mystery dance.

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Fall class playlist. I asked the students to tell me their favorite music and they did. Dancing to it on bike, then off. Called "fall class" on Spotify. Hot. Favorite track is Steve Aoki remix of Kid Cudi.

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Doing the Spooner on dance floor of CMOM with girls. 

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Beautiful dance this morning. Soooooooogoooooood. Haven't been out forever. Like coming out of a cave. And haven't danced like this for so long either, almost forgot I could. Caravan Palace Playlist on Spotify and suddenly I WAS Fred Astaire, on air, easy, now Gene Kelly swinging around a light pole, using whatever props on the street popped up as they scrolled by. When I passed someone I would feel myself withdraw a little, like a turtle, but then I self-corrected by pretending like everybody I passed was Ginger Rogers, the perfect dance partner, if only they knew it, and I was back in the flow.   Treasure of the morning: Overnight some Frenchie made all of the Rite Aid parking spots for Parisiens only, using chalk. Fantastique.

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Went to Socrates Park for a festival. Genevieve and I surprised ourselves by playing frisbee for a long time. At one point the giant speakers started playing Bob Marley's Exodus and I was dancing in heaven, catching and throwing the disc in the flow of the music, the girls running free.

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Started the day out medition into work out into tennis. The Tennis was epic. Spawned this poem: The Tennis Court Oaf Today on the court he went from clumsy gat to cross-court acrobat in one quick set How? He put all of his breath into it He put everything he had into every shot He was trying to balance everything with nothing It means everything as it is happening and nothing when its over Those lines either bear repeating often or saying never Love Love Ever, Adam I felt more than once on the court that I was in my body like a dancer. More of that please! Then tonight, one of those magic dances with the girls to Kidz Bop Kidz classics. Uptown Funk gonna give it to you. A ways off from Funkadelic, but highly danceable nonetheless. We followed each other's moves. Sofia had some pretty impressive floor moves. Kept me off my toes. 

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I'm walking in the cemetery Calvary Cemetery, trying to dance, it's been a while, right when I enter in a lady in a hatchback an old Russian woman pulls up next to me and tells me not to listen to my headphones, because it will hurt my ears, I said thank you I will keep it down, she said, no, even then, not a good idea to jog with headphones on. I said thank you. She drove next to me for a while and watched me and then slowly moved ahead, but very slowly watching me in her rear view for about five minutes. Then bothered by my own commentary on a friend's poem on Facebook I stopped to change it, and realize the more I try to change my comment the deeper I'm digging myself. then I see a sculpture, relief, inside try to dance again but I stop when I see a relief on a gravestone, it's the likeness of a young girl who died at seven years old in 1939, and I see all of the pain of the father there, it is too much to bear, just then I get a text from Quinn saying I thought