(Here's a short image-based piece I did recently.) The lights have come up in the gym as they release the beach balls, some partially deflated, falling onto the heads and shoulders of the students wearing their best, the music turned calm and deliberate as the crowds turn to leave. A girl pulls her dress off the floor with her hands at her thighs and bunches of fabric in her fingers, taking off her shoes and wrapping the straps around a hooked thumb. She’s three inches shorter. The gym was made of pairs before the lights came up, now they’ve dissolved to groups, to friends talking loudly and moving towards the doors, to boys and girls by themselves, left without their partner, to one boy sitting on the bit of the bleachers that was pulled out for a bench leaned forward and staring at the floor and his clasped hands. You can feel him sighing. There were two not dancing while the lights were down, who moved for a beach ball when they fell to everyone, and now they were swaying together just off the floor’s center to the slow, meaningful tone of the evening’s last song quietly swimming over them, their hands pressed against the other’s back. Her head is on his shoulder. She stands in bare feet, black dress, brown and curled hair lying across his chest, eyes closed and without any expression on her face. He stands straight, perfectly upright, his eyes wide and his mouth open just slightly while settling into a nervous smile. His head falls too, onto hers, and his spine curves, shoulders drop, corners of the lips keep rising. He relaxes. The two of them hold their beach ball between their other hands, the hands that would meet otherwise, suspended between their joined pressure against it. They got one of the good ones, not at all deflated, that stayed between their hands as a perch while they sway, unsure but steady, somehow, falling asleep together in a clearing, well-lit gym, falling asleep while standing. They’re hands stay on that beach ball, both of them pressing, and neither one worries whether or not the other will suddenly stop.
I happen to love this exercise. Type for a pre-determined amount of time assuming you have no backspace key and your fingers will catch on fire the second you stop. This is what two minutes in my head looks like: The road isn't what I was missing. Close. not quite. Something that moves, sure, but not quite a motorcycle. Music does so much to my brain. Perpetually confused. Perpetually lacking in courage. music solves both. Courage. The great ones had the courage to move the way they wanted. Presented the fundamental threads their own way. universal audience. Found the rhythms that reached them and hurled them in every direction. Ultimate courage, facing everyone's response. Intensely personal. Trust. They trusted something. Ultimate courage, ultimate faith: That not only does one person's voice matter but that MINE matters, and that I'm accountable for its dispersal. Horrifying concept. Irrational. But only irrational because of personal effacement and sense of personal weakness, not genuine lack of worth. In which case, self-effacement is irrational. Self-hatred, irrational. Self-destruction, irrational. Self-deprecation, irrational. If worth is unknown, but depends on participation multiplied by an individual's self-concept, then to willingly nullify either variable with zero is an irrational act, and ultimately ineffecient.Participation X Self-concept = Personal well-being, feeling of self-worth and satisfaction(P) X (S) = Value (personal)Participation without self-affection is worthless. Self-concept with validation is groundless. No value without either. Either can be nullified by zero. MUST attempt. MUST believe yourself worthy of the attempt. Must fail.
UNCLE DAVE'S KOAN OF SILENCE Day 1: Hi. My name is Dave and I'm contacting you because I enrolled in your on-line zen course and I was wondering when class starts. It doesn't seem to be written anywhere. Are you the zen master I seek? :)Dave I am no master. Sorry. Can you tell me how to contact the instructor? Or maybe whoever is running the program? Thanks.Dave I am the administrator. The teacher is you and everything around you. So then am I going to get paid? Hahaha. No seriously, I get the zen thing. When is the first class? How do I log in?Dave Class began when you were born and you are already logged in. Can I get my 50 bucks back?Dave Day 22: Ahem, hello? Are you angry with me for the refund comment? Is there still a class?Dave Class is ongoing. Did I miss something?Dave The eternal Tao is with you always. As the first few lines of the Tao Te Ching indicate:The tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao. The name that can be named is not the eternal Name. So if the tao cannot be told, how can you offer online instruction?Dave Patience. You have already learned an important lesson, waiting these 3 weeks before seeking more answers. How much longer do I need to wait?Dave Until you are able to swallow the whole of the Pacific Ocean in one gulp. [sigh]Dave Day 60: Hello, my son.Who is this? Where did this come from?DaveThe source of my words and my silence are one and the same.OMG, it's you. I thought I would never hear from you again. Your silence has been deafening.DaveVery good. "See it with the ears and you will go blind. Hear it with the eyes and you will go deaf."Huh?DaveMy words are heard only because of the silence before and after, just like the black type on this screen can only be seen because of the white background. You must see and hear this emptiness to realize that space and matter cannot exist without one another; silence and sound; thought and unthought. Unthought?Sent from Dave's iPhoneOn your application, you mentioned as one of your goals, "thinking powerful thoughts". Instead, you must learn the power of unthinking. Your assignment is to unthink. Just stop thinking for as long as you can, if you can. Practice each and every day. Day 66: I am pregnant with pause, and I feel I am about to deliver a bouncing baby revelation. Hahaha. Yes, right, silence...here I go back to it. :)Dave
One of my favorite songs that I've written.
Free writing on the idea of dreams.
Some minimalist poems that I have been writing lately. I'm trying to better at concision.
For William Blake
with eyes of struggle
watch the wind blow history
from limb to limb
as experience foliates
leaves fall to deteriorate
in the soil of the retina
to plant innocence
in blooming vision
as the future oxidizes
events start to accumulate
in the wind breathing on my limbs
This poem is partly inspired by Gertrude Stein. I tried to let the sounds propel the poem, feeding off the energy of the words.
This is a poem about my grandma who passed away a few years ago, i usually write a lot about her.