though near defeated by a head cold that's rendered me completely useless since saturday, there are reasons to rejoice.
1. prince covering 'creep' by radiohead. it's beautiful when two incongruent worlds collide, eh?
2. the promise of seeing my bloody valentine in september.
3. massive attack in amsterdam this summer at a park steps away from my old flat.
well, seeing amsterdam in the middle of summer, PERIOD, is reason enough to be elated. eschewing all the memories that will be conjured up undoubtedly, i am dying to go back.
4. knowing that a portishead tour SHOULD follow the release of third.
5. the return of farmer's markets & next sunday's excursion to the brooklyn flea.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
something drastic
i'm overwhelmed by the feeling that i need a big change. not just in the "cut all my hair off & dye it back to blonde" or "move to a city where i can reinvent myself" kinda way (though both sound strangely enticing), but in the "run screaming naked in the desert in search of my spirit guide" rite of passage respect. mind you, i'm far from defining myself as "spiritually open" (even though i've been known to use a monroe institute cd or 2) and am the first to call friends chakra-drunk hippies at even the first mention of their moon signs, but i want to push myself in a way that is completely unfamiliar.
so, i'm prepping for the master cleanse. i know it sounds batshit crazy, but i actually like the taste of the stuff. i want to challenge my willpower- quit the cloves in the process- and the added bonus is that i may even drop a few pounds though i feel pretty decent considering the fact that one of the most exquisite girls i know compliments me every time she sees me in this dress
change is good. willpower is even better.
so, i'm prepping for the master cleanse. i know it sounds batshit crazy, but i actually like the taste of the stuff. i want to challenge my willpower- quit the cloves in the process- and the added bonus is that i may even drop a few pounds though i feel pretty decent considering the fact that one of the most exquisite girls i know compliments me every time she sees me in this dress
change is good. willpower is even better.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
50 more
there's an open submission invitation from a site called common ties where artists and writers are asked to answer questions in 50 words or less, perhaps adding artwork or illustration.
while i've tacked a few of the questions, i'm still workin' on the artwork.
3. Where is your favorite place in the world, and why?
The garden behind a Victorian house in North London. Where children’s voice peal in happy laughter, the barbeques last until midnight every summer and the grass is cool beneath my nomad’s feet.
4. What's the one thing your parents don't understand about you?
How a bucolic childhood, woven liberally with golden threads of privilege, could breed such quiet malaise.
16. If you could take back one thing you have done, what would it be?
Conditioning myself with steely focus to artlessly critique myself with a scientist's cold precision.
17. What is your greatest talent or accomplishment?
Not only having the gift of complete mutability, but imbuing each swift shift with the same fervent passion that the last was granted.
while i've tacked a few of the questions, i'm still workin' on the artwork.
3. Where is your favorite place in the world, and why?
The garden behind a Victorian house in North London. Where children’s voice peal in happy laughter, the barbeques last until midnight every summer and the grass is cool beneath my nomad’s feet.
4. What's the one thing your parents don't understand about you?
How a bucolic childhood, woven liberally with golden threads of privilege, could breed such quiet malaise.
16. If you could take back one thing you have done, what would it be?
Conditioning myself with steely focus to artlessly critique myself with a scientist's cold precision.
17. What is your greatest talent or accomplishment?
Not only having the gift of complete mutability, but imbuing each swift shift with the same fervent passion that the last was granted.
Friday, April 18, 2008
dancing queen
it all started because i was impatient.
i wanted out... and out i came, two and a half months early at a shocking two and a half pounds. rather serious in the late seventies. my parents were told not to notify anyone for the first 48 hours as my chances of actually surviving were slim. after a few days in the incubator, i was still kicking, but my mum was still warned that there might be later ramifications and consequences in my overall health and development. four weeks later, at a whopping four and a half pounds, i was sent home, and became part of a study about the development of pre-term babies.
over the next few years, i tested exceedingly well in terms of cognitive skills. where i lacked? hand-eye coordination. so the white coats recommended that my mother place me in ballet classes at the tender age of (i estimate roughly) three.
and, dance i did. it was not only therapy, but grew to be something i loved. so much, in fact, that i begged to continue in weekly classes. it was the first thing i ever loved.
i grew up, my flaxen hair growing darker and blue eyes turning to cool green, and danced through my parents' house.
i've already discussed about my love for flashdance.
i longed to be teenager so i could shake it on network shows.
then i just wanted to be paula abdul.
next, i got serious and wanted to dance for janet jackson (and memorized almost every move of the videos she released during the rhythm nation era)
note: looking back, i think there's a definite split between aspiring dancers of my age range. it was either madonna or janet. now, i can appreciate the inherent sensuality of madonna's sexecution, but janet was always my dancer, fo' real.
later, i was elated to be accepted into the joffrey ballet summer program at the tender age of thirteen. (at the audition, i nailed my fouette turns and smiled at the judges even though i almost knocked over another girl with my enthusiasm).
(okay readers. now i'm crying. out of sheer nostalgic delight).
longing to be a fly girl, bending the stiff soles of my pointe shoes in the door frame of my teenage bedroom, going back to janet...
... all of this ruled my early teenage life.
until it happened. my body changed. breasts took over my once small frame like unwelcome aliens, and i lost it. buried deep under a thick layer of teen angst and a budding love for theater and art, i forgot dance. i acquiesced somehow to the fear that i'd never have the skill or the body to really make it.
sure, i danced in high school and in my first year of college, but as years passed and my once lithe muscles groaned with the extra effort of being pulled into inhuman angles, i gave up.
upon moving to new york a year ago, i found myself confronted by the question, "but are you dancing?" more than once or twice. from my parents, childhood friends, even my old dance partner from my studio days.
it was enough to get me started again.
not enough to claim a front row position and rock every move with my substantially heavier body, but i started.
and posting this is reminder enough to keep me at it.
i wanted out... and out i came, two and a half months early at a shocking two and a half pounds. rather serious in the late seventies. my parents were told not to notify anyone for the first 48 hours as my chances of actually surviving were slim. after a few days in the incubator, i was still kicking, but my mum was still warned that there might be later ramifications and consequences in my overall health and development. four weeks later, at a whopping four and a half pounds, i was sent home, and became part of a study about the development of pre-term babies.
over the next few years, i tested exceedingly well in terms of cognitive skills. where i lacked? hand-eye coordination. so the white coats recommended that my mother place me in ballet classes at the tender age of (i estimate roughly) three.
and, dance i did. it was not only therapy, but grew to be something i loved. so much, in fact, that i begged to continue in weekly classes. it was the first thing i ever loved.
i grew up, my flaxen hair growing darker and blue eyes turning to cool green, and danced through my parents' house.
i've already discussed about my love for flashdance.
i longed to be teenager so i could shake it on network shows.
then i just wanted to be paula abdul.
next, i got serious and wanted to dance for janet jackson (and memorized almost every move of the videos she released during the rhythm nation era)
note: looking back, i think there's a definite split between aspiring dancers of my age range. it was either madonna or janet. now, i can appreciate the inherent sensuality of madonna's sexecution, but janet was always my dancer, fo' real.
later, i was elated to be accepted into the joffrey ballet summer program at the tender age of thirteen. (at the audition, i nailed my fouette turns and smiled at the judges even though i almost knocked over another girl with my enthusiasm).
(okay readers. now i'm crying. out of sheer nostalgic delight).
longing to be a fly girl, bending the stiff soles of my pointe shoes in the door frame of my teenage bedroom, going back to janet...
... all of this ruled my early teenage life.
until it happened. my body changed. breasts took over my once small frame like unwelcome aliens, and i lost it. buried deep under a thick layer of teen angst and a budding love for theater and art, i forgot dance. i acquiesced somehow to the fear that i'd never have the skill or the body to really make it.
sure, i danced in high school and in my first year of college, but as years passed and my once lithe muscles groaned with the extra effort of being pulled into inhuman angles, i gave up.
upon moving to new york a year ago, i found myself confronted by the question, "but are you dancing?" more than once or twice. from my parents, childhood friends, even my old dance partner from my studio days.
it was enough to get me started again.
not enough to claim a front row position and rock every move with my substantially heavier body, but i started.
and posting this is reminder enough to keep me at it.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
like a 12 year old boy
i was taken to barcade last night. right up my alley, i think. a gazillion different beers with a long row of video games along the wall of a massive warehouse. unfortunately, most of the people there were simply leaning on the games instead of actually, you know, playing them. which prevented me from playing rampage (note: the at home version was better. you could choose to be godzilla, king kong or mothra. and the building crushing seemed too apropos sitting from the 2nd story bedroom of my childhood abode).
now, if they had a desk with an apple 2e2c set up with a stack of floppy disks that included the oregon trail, where in the world is carmen sandiego and the ALF game, i'd be set.
i like video games. so what? not necessarily this wii madness. just looks like people flailing around madly like preteens on a cafeteria dancefloor, making the most of a whitesnake song in front of the chaperones' wary eyes.
but i do dig dance dance revolution (which, come to think of it, looks far worse than preteens flailing to hair metal).
i also still laugh at fart jokes and resort to plunging my finger halfway up my nose and crossing my eyes when catcalled by strange men in the back of gardening service pick up trucks.
isn't it astounding how i've managed to keep boyfriends for more than 42 hours?
now, if they had a desk with an apple 2e2c set up with a stack of floppy disks that included the oregon trail, where in the world is carmen sandiego and the ALF game, i'd be set.
i like video games. so what? not necessarily this wii madness. just looks like people flailing around madly like preteens on a cafeteria dancefloor, making the most of a whitesnake song in front of the chaperones' wary eyes.
but i do dig dance dance revolution (which, come to think of it, looks far worse than preteens flailing to hair metal).
i also still laugh at fart jokes and resort to plunging my finger halfway up my nose and crossing my eyes when catcalled by strange men in the back of gardening service pick up trucks.
isn't it astounding how i've managed to keep boyfriends for more than 42 hours?
Thursday, April 10, 2008
big trouble
i recently rekindled my love for 'big trouble in little china.' it's rampant unabashed racism is countered by the fact that kurt russell and kim catrell play the dumb white assholes that get entangled in a pickle that's far out of their caucasian league. chinese mysticism and sorcery aside, the movie is a guilty pleasure. all the way.
watch the following clip. the maniacal giggle/ thumb twiddle phantom warrior move by lo pan is easily one of the most genius moments in 80s cinematic history.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
en garde.
i'd rather sharpen the tools in my box than hide from his veritable arsenal of verbal weaponry.
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