… could save you now. I can’t believe this guy! What the…! There is a whole slew of these filling webspace!

Truly. Pitiful.

I just got some headshots for the first time in my life yesterday. I never needed them before, but this Choreographer’s Evening thing wants them (my piece Melisma made it in). The photographer, Paul Virtucio, is a friend and he is wonderful at encouraging. I feel stupid when I have to pose for pictures, especially if I have to be serious, but he gave me these little goals and attitudes to try on that distracted me enough to relax. He photographs a lot of the dance companies in the Twin Cities, too. So, here are the few I was mulling over. The one I eventually chose for the program is the first one in the second column. It came down to that one and the three in the last row. Tough decision. Unfortunately, the very last one is my favorite, but it was denied because, well… it’s a family show.

The other day I was teaching a class of sixth graders and they were working on a science project called “Whir and Ding.” It had their attention. Anyway, one kid broke out into “If You’re Happy and You Know It.” As he kept singing he started “clapping” other body parts and he seemed to particularly enjoy hitting his face. So, I started singing, ” If you’re stupid and you know it, clap your face.” Of course, this kid lit up and smacked his own face even more vehemently. Other kids laughed, and on the second round a few more kids joined in on the masochism. A few more verses and almost everybody in the class was participating, each finding immeasurable delight in smacking themselves. The funny thing is is that their focus on their projects was even more honed following this corporal distraction. Oh! And I can assure you, their faces surely showed it.

Today is the saddest day;
I left the ice cream out.

O, what a rotisserie chicken and a Dr. Pepper will do to the spirit!

Father, Father, Father. How do I get myself into these emotional messes? I let my focus get pulled off of You. I let myself worry. I obsess and turn ideas over and over in my head so furiously that I forget to trust You. I think I need to figure it out now. Relax. You are saying it now, I know. Breath. I know, I know. I forget so easily, though. I’m like a horse. I give you this stupid ultimatum, If You give me what I want, I’ll give you the reigns back. Dumb. Dumb! Forgive me. Help me lean into You again, remember my footing.

O God! I just want to scream that! O GOD! Sometimes I think You are punishing me. I hope. I hope You’re not like that. I’ll take that patience that You offer, but why do I feel like I have to unceasingly work for it? I thought this cup offer-flows! I know. You don’t have to tell me. I know. Why can’t You just come down and sit and talk with me on my bed before I go to sleep. Hold my hand and tell me that it will be all right? Why do I have to imagine it? I hate that. I feel like a conjuror sometimes. I would love just to feel the pressure of You just sitting there. Resting Your hand on my feet. I’d notice when You left to do Your other stuff, but I’d know You would be just in the other room. And if I called, You’d come. Why can’t it be like that? Yes, I know. Faith. Can you hear my groanings? You seem like an alien to me.

I want love, but I feel like Tantalus. What are You doing? What the heck!?! Yes, I am pitying myself. I should stop, but I fear if I do there will be no one. I know You have compassion, are the creator of it, but I’m in this dark pit. I almost wish I was getting hit with reeds or something to distract me, but nothing. I am exaggerating. It’s because I am American. Forgive me for my foulness. I know. I have a lot to be thankful for. I am! Oh, but why did you have to make me like this, with so much fricken emotion? No, I don’t want to be stoic, just balanced. Content. I think I am, then something passes in front of my eyes that I feel like I can’t live without, and I forget. Like a horse. Tame me, God. Whisper to me. Amen.

I’ve been reading some Pablo Neruda and all his works that I am able to read are translated from Spanish. If his words are able to affect me so when they are filtered through a translators mind, how much more would the original words affect me? I want to learn Spanish and learn it in depth.

(It would also be nice to understand and respond back to those people who break out into Spanish expecting me to know it.)

Here are a few of my favorites:

My Dog Has Died – This reminds me of what the Speaker for the Dead might write for his dog.

Come With Me, I Said, And No One Knew (VII)

Don’t Go Far Off, Not Even For A Day

Gentlemen Alone – I was speechless after reading this one.

I Carve Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You – I know this paradox.

Leaning Into The Afternoons – This should be made into a song. The imagery is beautiful!

Ode To The Artichoke – I love how this poem turns.

Saddest Poem – I have an affection for literature that is self-aware, as this poem is and Dave Egger’s A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius is.

* an alternate translation of the same poem. I like it better sometimes, and worse at others.

Walking Around

And Because Love Battles – “To bread I do not ask to teach me
but only not to lack during every day of life.” Beautiful.

Fleas Interest Me So Much – Now I mind a little less being compared to a flea.

There are others, but I have just realized I’ve already suggested more than a few.

September is a month that releases in me much joy, borderline mania even, and deep sorrow. The thing is, is that most of it is subliminal. Smells, colors, weather, the way light comes in through the window… they draw out some specific memories, but more simply, feelings that have no specifically attached memories, or at least memories that have been stored deeper than I want to go at ten in the morning.

September is my perennial amp. Feelings I often experience throughout the year get louder. Something similar to watching the Indy 500, but it’s me in the stands that’s racing at 220 mph and the car stands still. It usually during this month that I flip-flop between feeling I can live the rest of my life content with being single, travelling the world, and settle along the Canadian Rockies with a golden retriever, a cat, fireplace, and the Ender’s series and being barely able to get out of bed because my heart aches from loneliness. Where does this come from!?! I love it! I hate it!

I know it has something to do with wanting to share my experiences with someone who will stay with me for the rest of my life. I want to feel the pressure of a hand when I see a beautiful autumn sunset. I feel so alone today.

Here is my friend, Josh Lewis.

Before he was a computer geek he was a door-to-door surfboard salesman. This was after his Goatees Gruff Day Care Center business bankrupted. Sad story… but that was a long time ago, as you can tell by the aged picture. If you secretly follow and watch him from the bushes outside Geekguardia, a.k.a, Apple, on a particularly bad day when his mind is all messed up from his night job, as bungee-jump chord fitter and mascot at Swing Low Bungees, previously known as ‘No One’s Too Fat’ Bungees N’ Things, you may still witness the slightest right-side limp from getting his naked foot caught in the door a few too many times (ouch!), which led to his early retirement. Now he just sits in a desk all day staring out a sap-covered window….

No, that’s not him. But it is a guy making MAPLE SYRUP!!! Mmmm!