Fin: Le La La La Love

Ok. I cannot believe that it has been months since the last post. The uninterrupted stream of days have melded together into a mono-month. Where did May go?

Piecing this together...

Where was I?
-APs full throttle
-c.k. williams called :)
-Breadloaf -- gorgeous mountains of Vermont
-Fin. (le finales)
-Virgins Concert (w. Lissy Trullie & Anya Marina) [pics to come]
-Pace Movie set
-A beloved ballet teacher of mine, Martha Mahr, passed away:
http://www.miamiherald.com/news/obituaries/story/1088388.html
-xlr8r w. aether:
http://www.xlr8r.com/mp3/2009/06/drama-free-feat-hanae-miller
-SYTYCD (vote, if you can, for jeanine)
-breakthrough volunteerwork
-Sackstein concert
-hettich envir. writing class
-endless summer escapades

more fleshing out to come, as will the details..
I vowed not to make this a personal indulgent place of my mundane activities, but woe to the extroverts of the world.

Unspeaking of which, I'm worried about Iran:
http://current.com/items/90206246_shots-fired-at-huge-iran-protest.htm

& the fact that the national media picked up an absurdly stupid interview about D-list celebrities, while not bothering to elaborate on the rest of the world...

our detachment is often a bit frightening.
And yet we follow these stories with such avid interest, is it a bit sick?
I can't even tell anymore.

Persephone & Haiti: Pulitzer News

A very deserved congratulations goes out to Patrick Farrell--one of our own, a Miami Heralder--who just won the Pulitzer for Photography. This photo, after reviewing Giotto for art history, was particularly moving. The full article can be accessed here. I also cannot wait to read Merwin's poetry, as well as Elizabeth Strout's Olive Kitteridge, which, based on the title alone, cannot help but conjure up a mental picture of a feminist Dickens' Twist.

In Other News:

Also, isn't the Twitter boom astonishing? I mean, the very fact that I just dedicated a sentence in my blog to it acts as further evidence to the phenomenon. Okay, okay, I got one. Eek. I like it for NYTimes updates and keeping track with Music whereabouts, as well as certain lit mags. And somehow I feel the need to redeem myself..

APs are coming up.. thus, delays are in store.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo
-T.S. Eliot

however, currently, "Michelangelo" can be substituted with the very appropriate "prom", which I am missing for a trip to Vermont... mixed feelings.

Hope you all have a particularly frustration-less week!
(as a counterbalance to mine)

Robert Whitman

Postmodernist performer--Robert Whitman:

Watch this:
American Moon

I was absolutely mesmerized, wrote a song for two hours after.
New Collab Project idea? Ask artists to write music for/from that. Listen to result.

Unfortunately, Whitman, due to the temporary nature of the medium, has been pretty much wiped off the art history radar for even the more cultured drama/art-fiends.

Resurrection in store? I wouldn't be surprised.

Avril, April!

Firstly, happy national poetry month.

L. S. P. 23, Deborah Luster

I recently read a fascinating article about the Deborah Luster (photographer) and C.D. Wright (poet) collaboration at P O E T R Y's website:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/harriet/2009/04/one-big-self-finding-the-noble-vernacular-cd-wright-deborah-luster/#more-1874

More: Wright/Luster
http://jacketmagazine.com/15/cdwright-iv.html

Here is an video interview with Luster:
http://blog.nola.com/dougmaccash/2008/01/photos_of_louisiana_prisoners.html

Here are more of Luster's photos:
http://www.edelmangallery.com/luster.htm
http://cds.aas.duke.edu/exhibits/hand&eyeobs.html


From "Dear Dying Town"

"Mack trapped a spider
Kept in a pepper jar
He named her Iris
Caught roaches to feed her
He loved Iris
When Iris died
He wrote her a letter."

--Wright



Is it truth mangled with words, and the rest of its burned flesh?
Set to decay, what personable qualities of slow boiling, and how our thoughts move in this heat.

This just might do nobody any good

I'm surprised that this doesn't get publicized more often.
Or maybe it's just me, but this really resonated with me:

http://www.turnoffyourtv.com/commentary/hiddenagenda/murrow.html

This was the catalyst to the end of his anchorman career, and it also sparked the trouble between him and his CBS boss/good friend Paley.

Atomic

I think I implode under tension.

{Can we replace the pronouns with fairer substitutes: the world, you, veins, clouds...?}

Astrodienst

As the skeptical idealist type, I've never really fallen for horoscopes, until I found one for birthdates. Then, it got strange; it was impeccably detailed, but seemed to describe me in oddly intimate ways. This was not a horoscope effect--which is what I like to call it--where the circumstances contrive to fit the person in afterthought. I'm not sure what to think of it now.

Then I stopped by the library today, and I had forgotten my card. The librarian had to use my birthdate to find me. There was a scroll-worthy list of several pages of people born on the same month, date, and year! (and this is probably only in my library region, as well) which makes me wonder... Say--perhaps, that there is some truth to personalities being influenced by the day you're born--are these people all like me?

I think it would be terrifying to find someone who was exactly like me. I might hate myself, or excavate a repulsive narcissism.

[EDIT{
I saw my first opera on Friday. It was beautiful.
I thought I would be anything but enchanted. Wrong.
Poetry into music.
}]

Glass Flecks in Ordinary Objects

Discovering a new Joanna Newsom song just made my day--although, it was already made, really.

Optimism--what fruit, flower, and seed.


[Edit: Despite not really knowing/liking The Fray/Kanye West too well. The Fray's cover of Kanye West's Heartless, and the smooth, quiet wailing, just made my knees go weak--never knew that feeling before. Funny the things that affect you...]

Shockshelled valentine, you might have been mine

http://www.miami.com/miami-luv-a-valentines-day-mixtape-article
Sixth artist.

Other than that,
I'm such a mess today.

Hope you have a lovely time wherever you are.

Tina is..

a Shammy, a towel, a sponge
that can hold up to 20 pounds of weight.

hahaha
I love spam.
So much pleasure in deleting that sucker.

Trivial Cycling

This seems fairly apropos today (& everyday.. at least for a while).




On the bright side, I have a song coming along. Pocket full of posies, giving me ideas -- yeah!

Weapon of Massive Consumption

Today I am "organically composed to sizz, / lushly explosive into a thick dense of smoke"--at least that's what I wrote at 2 in the morning. Don't worry. It doesn't really make sense to me either.

So. I spent all day/night/day before & finished Rock Bottom: A Novel. It was a book sent to me in the mail by GoodReads (thank you, dear), and they kindly suggest readers to review in order to perpetuate the program. I have to say.. it was weirdly engaging and hard to put down, but I'm not sure if I liked it. A self-proclaimed dark comedy, it was more dark than comedy, but that may be my lack of taste. Although, I do love a good black comedy. Wes Anderson is a goddess.

Either way, I was totally absorbed in it, and it's a torrential frescacity of change compared to Milton & the bible (current class reading)--that's for sure.

Meanwhile, education is brightening my reform-craving horizon.
Music is consuming me. Struck up correspondence with a few producers recently, but I've been dropping them like dead matches. They have been surprisingly kind lately (but just as forgetful). How fresh that bloom, and soft its dropped petals!


My hands are cold.

Tengo que empezar leer BBC Mundo. Olvidé por que razón paré.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/spanish/latin_america/newsid_7863000/7863732.stm
It seems as though the air never moves. Coriolis effect?

Zach Condon/Beirut is brilliant. I would have given anything to have attended this:
http://www.brooklynvegan.com/archives/2008/12/inlets_w_zach_c.html
I like the cute crossed arms. haha. They look so unhappy. Posers (in the modelesque way, of course).
[Where's Waldo edit: bonus points if you can spot the guy on his blackberry while a musician is playing. ouch.]

So, why is Mr. Condon so brilliant?
He wrote this and recorded it at age 15. I cannot tell if envy is the blood-substitute right now or if it is happy awe. Perhaps a glorious mixture to spur me into action?
http://kitsunenoir.com/blog/2008/01/06/beirut-the-joys-of-losing-weight/

I would also love to move to Europe and osmosically emerge as a Balkan musician.
Dropping out of school would pose a problem (like the little model arms of those Brooklyn attendees).

(Cover photo: Parkeharrisons -- Check them out! Gorgeous masters of photographic magical realism)

Enciende El Fuego, Sr. Piro

I found this in a notebook, residual scribbling from midnight delirium. It was written just like this--caps and all. Proof of chronic sleep deprivation? Sin embargo, disfrute, minasan.
:

HOPE IS A CANDLE I LIGHT.
STAY AWAY WIND. STAY AWAY PUFFY CHEEKED BABY.
STAY AWAY WATER. STAY AWAY TEARS.
STAY AWAY BREATH. STAY AWAY.

---

Today I was told to stop being this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8szwlCnKUbY

& start being this:



















Wise words.

Barefoot

Socks are so simple
yet so easy to forget.
This is the way with every else, too.

Warmth

Possess humility,
and the humility to understand the extent of it's integrity,
measuring this like a hand filled with sand.

This is warmth through my fingers, because today I possess beauty.
It is light, and I finally understand Sike's Scheherazade, and those bodies and how they must feel in freshly pressed clothes.

Fata Morgana Empathica

Leonid Afremov


My original intention was to begin with a spark of profundity--unfounded insight in its simplicity, like:

The love that exists now, is naught but short-lived or mirage.

--serving as my title's explanation, (not that these types need those types)--Fata Morgana, but I do not wish to bore you with such nonsense.

This will serve as the account of life--perchance not mine, but of the world's migrating wisdom sifting from one hourglass of life to the next. Word like this has always existed. This is only a continuation of such dynamite.

If I could write you a letter I would. Such a preservation would be ideal, as would the idyllic nature of preservation itself, as bound as these sites may be to perish at any server downtime second--what whim, like death itself, no?

Should the rough be ugly? Like this, I hope, will not serve as chief example, especially the godawful syntax that has been fun with which to play.

Lighght. mwahaha. Profundity at its best. Think what you will.

Someday we will meet again, and our tendrils will tangle tentatively.

-------

Now. To matters of importance:

I am of
impressionism, anthropology, melody,
& empathy. This lie(')s closest to my heart.

Read;

There are Paris Review interviews;
Gaze at Monet's Water Lilies Triptych for a day;



















Wear Kenzo's Spring-Summer 09 collection. Gorgeous captured into fabric.
http://www.ftv.com/fashion/page.php?P=3391&id=105356
Or find somewhere that air can drown you in its frescacity. Either will do.

I love Tom Sleigh's poetry, Waking.
He talks about how life perfects when you realize you will lose it. Except he is lots more eloquent than me, and less naive/foolish/silly/stupid.

Love--of the scent of laundry,
vanilla turns to musk on my skin,
the shy smoke of sparklers, that unfurls in darkness.

What possessed these beings to create such beauty?
Come, muse, to sleep. Let the world just fall away.