October 12th, 2013 § § permalink
I feel like this blog has just become an update receptacle and even then I don’t keep up, like the news of Part I of my interactive documentary, microfemininewarfare: exploring women’s space in electronic music being screened at ElectroFringe Fest in Australia last week. Last week, however, I was in New York being too much while chasing memories, tattoos, love & blue eyes. But also being a serious productive cat with meetings and potentials.
I’m having thematically recurring dreams in which a medley of my (ex)lovers come in and out of various situations. Every night is a different mix with different expectations. I’m also having dreams about Chiapas almost every night, still. Everything sticks to me like that. Is there a way to just have sex all the time? Like with breathing—you do other stuff but you have to keep breathing but then sometimes you take time to focus on breathing and find your body’s orientation. Could not the same be of intercourse? You just do it all the time while living life and then some of the time you focus on each other’s bodies completely?
2013 has been all about waiting. Is waiting synonymous with patience? I don’t know. I didn’t even realize that my snail tattoo is also part of that theme. Of course it is, yes, all of it. Sanyu told me something I’ll never forget: “When he is ready, if you wait, he will come back.”
Here is something better from Roland Barthes’s A Lover’s Discourse:
The lover’s discourse is of an extreme solitude
attente / waiting— Tumult of anxiety provoked by waiting for the loved being, subject to trivial delays (rendezvous, letters, calls, returns)
Am I in love? –yes, since I am waiting. The other one never waits. Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn’t wait; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game. Whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. The lover’s fatal identity is precisely this: I am the one who waits.
Waiting is an enchantment: I have received orders not to move. Waiting is woven out of tiny unavowable interdictions to infinity.
September 16th, 2013 § § permalink
A 5521 kilometer-long open wound the salty ocean won’t let scar
“Wild tongues can’t be tamed, they can only be cut out” —Gloria Anzaldúa
My Top 3 #lastfm Artists: Julianna Barwick (35), Slow Dancing Society (28) & Lubomyr Melnyk (19)
Your art/work is what makes me hold on & admire you. I’m in awe of the chance of experiencing the vast unknown w/in your work —with you.
Olfactory memory, how your tentacles suffocate me so tender
Brazilian jazz you make my love my body —Flora Purim, Airto Moreira, Astrud Gilberto …
Staying home to read poetry. Staying home to learn new words to love you with.
Chile’s made some great poets—Pablo Neruda: “As if you were on fire from within. / The moon lives in the lining of your skin.”
London, chasing light with you has been a pleasure / The moments our speeds cross paths I burst with energy & love for you with me.
My Top 3 #lastfm Artists: Lubomyr Melnyk (24), Slow Dancing Society (21) & Austra (21)
i’m eating a squash/spinach salad & drinking a gluten free beer I snuck in at the club in Brixton while everyone dances to drum’n'bass in Brixton
The sun bouncing around the English countryside & through my train window, hello there
“We are each other’s orientation devices. We self-alienate in relating by recognizing the other as both that which grabs us and that which turns us away and into the world.”
Lancaster, your tender sunset & wind out my window are so lovely. Thank you.
Attempts at sleep with music on headphones when not having slept for a really long time always imparts amorous beguiling images.
Love as responsibility towards the Other.
Where is my Colonel Sanders & his magic of “Abbreviating Sensory Processing of Continuos Information” ?
July 12th, 2013 § § permalink
When patience toward you is handed to you like this, it’s difficult to do anything but fall in love.
“There is always something traumatic, extremely violent, in love. Love is a permanent emergency state. You fall in love. It is crucial that we use this expression. To fall in love. You lose control. I claim that love, the experience of passionate love, is the most elementary metaphysical experience, a Platonic experience, in the sense of: You lead your routine daily life, you meet friends, you go to parties, everything is normal, etc.—and then, you passionately fall in love. Everything is ruined. The entire balance of your life is lost. Everything is subordinated to this one object. I almost cannot imagine in normal daily life (outside of war and so on) a more violent experience than that of love.”
— Slavoj Žižek
October 14th, 2012 § § permalink
— the world is full of words – write to me —
write me romantic words of superflous proportions —steal poet’s words, steal all the words in the world to make me believe I am in one of those books I carry with me every time I move across the world. You know which ones, the heavy ones, the ones of female desire, the ones of beating heads on hardwood floors. Take all those words, move them around, and see why I love those words so much. Eat the words and shit them out to see how they look like in all the ways. Write to me, on paper, on the computer, on napkins, on the metro, on the road, on receipts, on magazines, on books, on newspaper clippings, on you, on me, on them, on the trees. Write to me with fingers full of blood expanding to show me the love you say you have. Keep writing, write like it’s a Grecian marathon, keep writing in the most detailed ways possible. Use examples. Use verbs. Use the clarity of Joan Didion. Or write me a few words, simple words, big words, complicated words. Write me however, whenever, but write me often and write to me, not to them, not for the world to see. Just me, just write it to me, because your love is not for them, but for me, and a love song is not a love letter.
I promise I won’t make that mistake again.
June 12th, 2012 § § permalink
“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh?” he whispered.
“Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s hand. “I just wanted to be sure of you.”
“When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,” said Piglet at last, “what’s the first thing you say to yourself?”
“What’s for breakfast?” said Pooh. “What do you say, Piglet?”
“I say, I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?” said Piglet.
Pooh nodded thoughtfully. “It’s the same thing,” he said.”
“It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn’t use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like “What about lunch?”
“Hallo, Rabbit,” he said, “is that you?”
“Let’s pretend it isn’t,” said Rabbit, “and see what happens.”
“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
“If the person you are talking to doesn’t appear to be listening, be patient. It may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear.”
“How do you spell ‘love’?” – Piglet
“You don’t spell it…you feel it.” – Pooh”
“Some people talk to animals. Not many listen though. That’s the problem.”
“Organization is what you do before you do something, so that when you do it, it’s not all mixed up.”
“One of the advantages of being disorganized is that one is always having surprising discoveries.”
“[A] quotation is a handy thing to have about, saving one the trouble of thinking for oneself, always a laborious business.”
February 3rd, 2012 § § permalink
“Suis-je amoureux ?”- Oui puisque j’attends.”
L’autre, lui n’attend jamais. Parfois, je veux jouer à celui qui n’attend pas; J’essaye de m’occuper ailleurs, d’arriver en retard; mais à ce jeu je perds toujours: quoique je fasse, je me retrouve désoeuvré, exact, voire en avance. L’identité fatale de l’amoureux n’est rien d’autre que: je suis celui qui attend.”
– Roland Barthes
Being in love is the best and most important feeling in the whole world. Nothing motivates unless I am in love. My friend D teases me about this a lot. Many times I will bring something or someone up to him and gush about how amazing and wonderful it or they are.
— “You think everything/everyone is amazing!”
— “No! I am so critical and judgmental! But I am also unabashedly in love with a lot, and want to express it as much as I can.”
Funny (sad?!) that most people think I am an ice queen, selfish, and unapproachable. Probably, because I’m sure I come off that way. Physical face-to-face interactions are weird. I never know how to be or what to say, so I usually just end up promoting myself as a spectacle. I am easily amused by myself, and so an adventure always follows me around.
I tan a lot. People have a lot of judgmental things to say about tanning. People have a lot of judgmental things to say about a lot of shit. HELP ME BE LESS JUDGMENTAL!
Oh, yes, back to being in love. Being in love is like this special sheath you get to wear and it gives you magical powers!
being able to see clearly and with the saturation on +10, having the ability to focus on all your work, having enough energy to do ANYTHING even if you haven’t slept because you’ve been making love for days, having beautiful skin because the blood is racing through your body constantly making everything glow, finding inspiration in everything, forming a world with your lover, seeing the world through their eyes…
I remember when I fell in love the summer of 2010 with my documentary project, before I even contacted anyone, before I even knew what it would become. I wanted to devote all of myself to it, and the love grew and grew and grew and I was so willing to give myself to it, willing to give all of my time, all of my energy to it, and it, in turn gave me so much of itself back.
Why did I not finish it? Why did I get carried away with my doctoral work as if that can be finished later? Why do I discard my work so quickly? FOLLOW THROUGH.
New loves again & again – disposable – New loves turning over make me full of unrequited love for the past, make me intensely sentimental and regretful for the past projects I was in love with and gave up because something else became more convenient. Now my shoulders slouch from the weight of the unresolved past, and my scoliosis keeps curving in. Moving on like this is never moving on, but stuck in all the places all at once, never being able to be in the ‘now.’ Like Erica Jong writes, “I look forward and see myself looking back.”
December 24th, 2011 § § permalink
In September I attended a toy camera workshop with Midi Onodera put on by my department of Communication Studies at Concordia. We had an afternoon to shoot and edit. I chose the Barbie Cam to shoot my short film because how strange is it to shoot holding a Barbie in your hand that has a camera in her chest. The feminist discussion is not lost on me, but that’s not the point right now. The Loyola campus of Concordia reminds me a bit of York: it’s far away from the centre in the suburbs & no one likes going there. Having just arrived, I wanted to get to know the campus and make friends with it. I decided to shoot the garden, as it was just finished sharing its bounty for the season. I emailed j that afternoon asking: “hi / can i use one of your songs / it’s a love letter to the garden / wanna send me something calm and slow?” & what you hear is what he sent me & I love how it works so perfectly.