Last night the moon was simply gorgeous

~

The moon is golden and full
Fringed with tufts of iron wool
Sliding down the muted cobalt sky

~

I find myself wondering if my Modernism professor would consider this to be presentational enough language to be considered modern. I might have to flesh it out to see if I can keep the imagery within the context of rhythm and rhyme.

Do I dare
Disturb the universe?

~ T. S. Eliot
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Don McLean's American Pie came on the radio as I was driving home tonight - haven't heard it in years.

I had goosebumps all the rest of the ride home.

memory

I remember the antique store where I found my copy of Franny and Zooey. There were three copies of the book scattered throughout the store. One was on a bookshelf downstairs, one in a pile of books upstairs, and one was tucked behind a teacup. A Surplus of Salinger.

~

I should make a list of books that I should read but I haven't because I've been scared away by various people's descriptions or horror stories of forced 10th grade reading.
The Grapes of Wrath
Finnegan's Wake
Moby Dick (read it when I was 8, but had absolutely no idea what the big deal was, except the whale seemed kind of scary and the captain seemed kind of nuts)
War and Peace

random pics

Nathan's sis Stephanie and I at her graduation! Pretty kitty.

Lovely man.

That was a fun tree.

For the week of July 2-8, I am an official poet.

musings

Marissa Nadler - Mildly pretentious yet dreamy vocals that trill out of the back of her throat like silver-yellow smoke.

Also. Crinoline and tapioca are very good words.

This man is right on. I might have to go back and delete certain posts, squashing past chest thumps, although they do serve as good reminders of my waxing and waning stupidity.

school days

It feels weird being back at school. Don't get me wrong, the University of WA is gorgeous, especially in the summertime, but I'm still negotiating through the whole undergrad part of my life being closed, but not really (go post-bacs!) while waiting for the graduate school part to open.

Still, my Contemporary Novel class this term is quite fun, and hopefully Literary Modernism will be equally so.

I'm also hoping to get a project near and dear to my heart off the ground. I had to put off choreographing a dance last summer b/c of a surfeit of possible projects. In the end I chose to work with The Senate, which was an amazing experience, but I need to explore this now.
Pictures once it's completed, I promise.

eye contact

I need to work on my avoidance, stretch my comfort zone. I've never been an especially gregarious person. I can fake it, and fake it well. And once I'm past an initial meeting and know more than the barest superficiality about a person, I'm fine.

But I'm not good if I'm thrown into a new situation with new people without any warning or preparation. That's when I say stupid things, come off as tired or a bit closed off. I just don't know what to say.

I need to work on this. Even though this is my fallback modus operandi, I don't think that is a legitimate excuse for not putting my best foot forward when interacting with my fellow human beings.

I really noticed this the other day when I was walking through a mall. I realized I've become quite talented at skimming over people's faces and focusing on store windows, floor tiles, ceiling fans. I don't mind eye contact in and of itself - I've been taught how to make respectful eye contact in various acting venues for the past decade. In a situation like this though, I need to stop being afraid of it. The world will not end if my eyes happen to meet someone's. Some people are even nice and smile. I need to be one of those types of people.

Folklife

A couple of thoughts inspired by the mayhem that is Seattle Folklife.

1. Large, open spaces in the middle of large, crowded cities always have birds. Pigeons, sparrows, seagulls - there is always some sort of winged beastie ready for a handout. With the thousands of people crowded around Seattle Center, our feathered friends vacated the premises, leaving an avian-shaped void. I didn't realize how big of a void until I found myself throwing curly fries at the numerous dogs straining against their leashes. The dogs looked happy, the owners did not.

2. There are too many buskers. This year, there were rules in place about the various acts rotating spots to ensure everyone could perform. Even so, the surfeit of so-so elementary school violinists, giggling teenagers charging for or giving away hugs, and the musicians of varying talent and personal hygiene left me rolling my eyes more often than applauding. The yo-yo champion was cool though.

creation

I wish there was a blogger for choreography. Given that dance is an art form so reliant on human bodies, it has thus been the most ineffable as far as trying to transfer it into computer code. Musicians have programs like Sonar. Painters have, well, Paint. But what do dancers have? (feel free to let me know if there's a program out there I'm missing).

I don't see solo dances in my head. And when I do, they are 99.8% of the time inextricably linked to a certain dancer, a certain body with all of its strengths and limitations. And I don't see choreography I can/would do on myself, either b/c 1. it's too far out of my capabilities, or 2. b/c I was inspired by someone who for whatever reason, is inaccessible.

I've tried writing it down. There have been several nights where I have forced myself out of that creative goldmine, the soft spot in between awake and sleep, and frantically tried to come up with ways to write down the freakishness in my head. Grande jetes from one side of a room to another? No problem to write down, which means of course that I never think of such simplistic movements.

Actual transcription from such a night three years ago:
R flick turn over, butterfly to over, Tenant of street movement up - another flick turn, right leg passe over, sissone in place.

This made sense at one point, but years and choreographic pieces have come and gone. Now I'm wondering "Flick turn where, to what direction? Upstage, downstage? is that a flick in, or a flick out? what leg was the sissone landing on?" Perhaps more importantly, who was I picturing when I thought of these steps? Did I have an emotional component in mind, under girding the movements?

It's interesting to come back and see how differently I can interpret something I created, but a bit dismaying at the same time.