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What is white space that is not a canvas; offering agency and every possibility to whomever confronts it? It’s quiet and patient; generous; never pompous and clearly not greedy. It lets you shine against it.
Talking to myself--especially when it becomes a lot of talk all of a sudden, always tells me there is something I'm trying to work out of my brain and especially out of my body. It's interesting that I haven't been able to run lately, one of my choice ways of working stuff out of my mind and body.
I have two things for sure in this world--faith and voice and I feel responsible for using them
The training, racing, and creative process...is a triumph over the physical and psychic conditions just outside the parameters of control which would censor and stilt performance.
I got some actual work done today and also started on these since they were all impatient and wouldn't wait.
Trust me, I am not hiding anything in my art, my writing most specifically, any more than when it was layered in imagery. It is all there. Pause in the white space and you’ll see that you get it after all. Okay so maybe I would rather people not pause because that art is my heart and soul on Front Street
I'll be on a panel called "Written By Ourselves: The Craft of Immobile Corporeality" on Friday, April 1 at 12 noon (Rm. 51o of the L.A. Convention Center). Stop by and hear me talk about the lovers of Jonestown and how they use the stillness of intimacy in defiance of their circumstances in that Guyana [...]
Digging in the crates for Flashback Friday.
September 4, 2010
” Don’t forget who you are…and where you stand in the struggle.”
So Much Things to Say — Robert Nesta Marley
Long time; no talk, yeah? Still on my overly punctuating game you’ll notice from the three pieces of it in that short not-really-a-sentence. Pardon my geekiness: that ain’t changed. My address has—whew-ew! Fat stats have—whew-ew! On the other hand, Kashi still rocks my socks. And alas, it turns out I am still 13, unsure, and putting on a serious show that suggests I just might be. Of course there are some things I have always known: that one day you would forget me, that trouble don’t last always, and right is right and never wronged nobody (as Grandmommy says). And sadly, for what I don’t know I spend an inordinate amount of time talking out loud to myself trying to create formulas and work out equations that will make…
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Secret shame; I may or may not plan my dinner around episodes of A Different World and/or Jeopardy. Sometimes maybe.