Bedlam

I wanted to kiss your lips so badly last night, so much so that I didn't sleep, and I still feel dizzy for it (and I do not care if I burn in hell for the desire)

Silence makes a man admit things, you know.

Because I felt like it.

Training

I have come to understand that all this has to be, is physical narrative, and improvised choreography, so that I am at a point in training where all I have to do, upon the days I have the time (and the leave of absence from work to kick in five shifts from now should provide plenty of such a thing) is simply work up three wild sweats of different natures per day - the weight training of the morning, the afro-brasilian dance of the afternoon, and the intense, meditative motion (the closest I will come to modern) of the night, and throw all notions of specifics out the window. All I want to be at this point is a body in the moment, prepared thoroughly for the moment, and trust my natural instincts as a performer (which have wildly changed since I tested a sample of this piece for a few Montrealers) No more attempting to wedge theatrics in place they may not necessarily be required in. Just know the words, prepare the body, and see what happens (let's face it, the words have now been tested upon enough to know that they are powerful, and the fact that I find it more exciting every day to recite them, than the last, is a positive sign) If you put words like that, with the body that is evolving, in the proper space, you have all the makings for a hundred wild nights in various cities around the world (and when I'm having a day like this, where I truly need to shake the cobwebs out, it's plenty incentive to push forward, and to not stop) And if I require a reminder as to the auxiliary reasons a man prepares his body, I need only look at several conversations and invitations the last while, and understand that not every occurence of my entering a bedroom, will be for performance alone (Unless we are speaking of a different context)

I am a fan of my new unapolgetic nature for who I am (at least I admit I want wildly more than one)

Today is a wonderful day to experiment with training. So off we go to it.

Crawford St.

There was a night, when I was coming home from the Drake Hotel, after a performance not too long ago, where I was walking down Roxton Rd. It was summer, intensely hot, and it must have been past 3:00 am on a Saturday night. It was so quiet, and I was walking up from Dundas to College, and I decided to just walk on the middle of the street. I only mention it because this summer, if you're in the neighbourhood, I would do the same (You will find something very unexpected about the city of Toronto when you do, and let's just say, it was one of my favourite moments I've ever had, walking through the city) But it's best kept a mystery until you do.

Separated by Shaw, there is Crawford St. nearby. It may very well be my favourite street in Toronto (Brunswick, where I had that fabulous apartment/house is a very close second) I mention Crawford because on Friday, while working my job upon that particular street, I not only found generous donors, but found one of my new favourite couples in the city (I can always pop into Supermarket in Kensington if I ever wish to say hello) but I found myself in the unexpected company of another dancer/actor (who happens to write as well) and I am already aware that a collaboration is inevitable (I admit it, I was absolutely charmed in her company, and by her cat) I am looking forward to tea and laughter with this woman, truly (and I need to find out why her house smells so absolutely divine of sandalwood)

Three houses down, later that night, I was given a venue to debut my show in Toronto. It is the perfect place to start this madness - aside from the new friend (a sweetheart of a girl, who is from Paris) who is all for unusual artistic activity, the bed and the bedroom is perfect - we could fit twelve people, tops, within this space, but the bed is low to the ground, and the ceilings are quite high, and the space extremely intimate (And I've learned that when you have very small crowds, a piece like this works best) And they are all strangers, my audience (so they won't be so forgiving, and I love that) She was unable to make a contribution to the cause, but in a job like this, conversation and flirtation is inevitable, at times, and in the midst of both, she learned of my narrative, and simply invited me in, to have a peek at her bedroom (and any bed that is surrounded by drawings and paintings, is a room I want to dance in, eh?)

The concept of performing a piece within people's living areas is still a foreign idea to some. I will explain things thoroughly when the publicity photos are up (and the press release is out)

Later that night, while checking out at work, I was offered another venue (in the span of two hours, I was given the first two places to perform)

So now it's in forward motion. The experiences in Montreal, though, will be quite different (But I will have more on that later)

Montreal, I don't plan on touring from bedroom to bedroom.

(You're coming on over to my place)

A quick note

You realize that it doesn't matter if there is touch or not in any situation (and I find that the expectation of a touch always ruins things - touches just accidentally happen (or at least are the intentional acts, and the accidents are just us stumbling through with each other) Either way, I find the only time I ever come close to playing the violin is when I speak with you, and you should know that it was the very last thing that compelled me to find the instrument again, and relearn it (The guitar is soon to follow) I realized that one of my favourite moments ever, when it comes to music, involved someone we both love, and how instead of playing with the band, he simply struck two notes upon his guitar, raised his fist, and began to sing 'for your bleeding conscience I weep...' and that you reminded me of that simplicity, and that it's the necessary approach for the narrative and wild times ahead, and I'm thankful that you gave me a nudge upon it. The only thing I would ask of you is to maintain a healthy balance between the art and the practical at this moment, because there are truly things ahead for you - wild pleasures beyond even your contemplation, and shared laughter with so many more (or perhaps one, for awhile) I'm not here to sleaze, or to nudge, or to ask, but to remind. Friends remind each other of their own soul, and voice (and staying true to them) So if anything, consider me an equal, let it all be healthy dialogue, and let us always have a cup of tea between us, and laughter.

No restraints, but always respect, and empathy (it's truly the way to go...)

Miss Page

The day that I open up my new dance studio here in Toronto, this is the first individual I am going to invite to my new space (and by invite, I mean I'm going to send her a plane ticket, because it's more fun of a way to make an invitation) It won't be a romantic gesture, nor will it be for a reason that is other than artistic or friendship (though trust, few girls make me weak in the knees, and she is definitely one of them) No, I'll be sending her an invitation, because as far as I'm concerned, this individual (my favourite person in the United States) is an honorary Canadian, and I want to show her the dance scene in Toronto and Montreal (or at least I want to show her to the scene, more like it) She's charming, wonderful, slightly on the darkly perverse side, probably with black humour, no doubt a delightful laugh, and what limited I have seen in dance, I truly like (and more, appreciate) I think this town could use a healthy dose of Miss Page, so she's going to be the first of many artists I plan on bringing here (and if you wonder about the financial viability of such a gesture, I wouldn't worry - I know how to pay the bills for such things, eh?) There's a piece I've been sitting on, besides, for a year and a half (more theatrical than anything) that she gave me an idea for, a long time ago (and I'd love to try it out with her, really) I think this city needs a few fresh, wild voices, so I'm going to be someone who takes it upon his shoulders to invite some of these very necessary artists and lovers to this place, and as far as I'm concerned, she's a lover, and she is very necessary.

Plus I know she has an ego, and I'm in the mood to flatter those with a healthy ego (so you're it for the day, Kimberly...)

Before...

I want you to see my body, as it has been (and it is this that you see in my profile photograph)
Admittedly sexual (oh get over it - it's who I am - I have a semi-pornographic existence, and I'm not going to hide from it whatsoever) I'm not exactly being a saint in the photograph, and I never claimed to be one, nor will I ever apologize for any sins that have come from being a sexual being (but that's another narrative entirely) This is an older photograph, but it's an accurate representation of me physically the last while. I entitle this blog entry as 'before...' because I've felt my physical form changing to suit the character I created for this narrative - a man who I am not just yet (but I so wish to be, and am learning how to become) This particular individual who you've seen in my profile photograph is the beginning of what's coming - this is truly the 'before' version of me. The 'after' you are going to see in three weeks, as I intensify wildly my training and discipline. I won't be starving myself or be in denial - I'll just continue the path of health I've been on, and absolutely dedicate myself now, on this new day, to what it is that I have to do. This show I am doing is a man sliding his hand down his body with a laugh, a sigh and a moan (not in the literal sense, that would be an entirely different show, eh?) He's an arrogant ass, but he backs up his prattling with intense physicality (this character, that is) Well I have been (to paraphrase Ric Flair) BLEEDING, SWEATING, AND PAYING THE PRICE to find myself at this point, and on the cusp of what is to come, I want this ode to masturbation, essentially, to be the final image before you see the 'AFTER...' in three weeks, where yes, there WILL be clothes (my outfit for my show, for that matter) but the individual himself - this character who is far too in love with himself, will debut.

You're going to love and hate him so very much (but you won't be able to take your eyes off of him...)

720

The number that you see above is the amount of repetitions for a very devious exercise, and I've only hit it once (a year ago, around this time) I note it because today I will attempt it (and while severely turned on due to the photographic exploits of someone, thank the stars for women) The change in schedule for my work is already working, because now I can exhaust the moment, and go for it (and trust, today I am going for it) So this will be brief, as I have to return to the meditation.

I just wanted to tell someone who made a request of me via email last night that I will not write a thing (unless she eventually wishes me to) I'll listen, and say nothing, because she is right. That I will read, and it does mean a lot, and that I want a lot more.

Last night, I received a very generous donation (I've heard rumours I'm the best at what I do in my day job, which is quite humbling) During the conversation, while playing with the kids, and laughing with the married couple, I found out that I was talking to a editor of a literary magazine, and that the current issue is writing on dance (and that I should submit something)

This is my life right now.

My Favourite Dancer

I was asked recently about who it was that was my favourite dancer (or dance company) It's a very good question, actually - I've been heavily influenced by so many, when I think about it. I could say for example that it's Bill T. Jones. Bill T. Jones who is responsible for my favourite quote ('You have as much freedom as you are willing to take...') Bill T. Jones, who's work is heavily political (and I would argue, heavily with love) Bill I believe is in his 50's by now (yes, that absolutely divine physical specimen you see is classified in our society as an 'old man...') and if there's anyone who's shown a depth of courage in his life to get to the point of where he is as an artist, it's him. Sometimes I'll wonder about his choreography, and sometimes I'll be absolutely enchanted, but there is no disputing in my eyes that when it comes to choreographers, and dancers, he is one who has given me plenty of inspiration as I've grown as a dancer, and a man.

I could also say Noam Gagnon and Dana Gingras, who are the two that comprise the group Holy Body Tattoo. Their work is primal, and drips with violence and sexuality, where like La La La Human Steps, there's not necessarily a gender definition when it comes to their work - they blur the lines between masculine and feminine, so that there is a known equality between the two forces - they do not choreograph as a man and a woman, necessarily, but two bodies who are equally capable of doing anything the other can do, and I'm a fan of choreography that does blur those lines, where the woman can demonstrate the strength a man can, and where the man is not afraid of such a thing, but begs for it more (trust, there is not enough of work out there for my tastes which dares to do such a thing, and it makes for boring choreography when it comes to this particular country) Perhaps that's another story, but if these two come to your town, make it a point to see their work (or find yourself a copy of 'Poetry And Apocalypse' and you'll see for yourself)


I could speak of Grupo Corpo. Primal, physical, and so full of joy (they do not come to Toronto enough, but when they do, I am always there to see this wild company from Brazil) Every single aspect of their dance is full of joy, and colour, and sensuality, it's hard to not be enchanted with them (and it's quite difficult to take your eyes off of their movement, and you'll find that after two hours, you'll wonder where the time went, because they'll make you feel like you just experienced a moment (and you'll be absolutely craving for more, without a doubt)












Or we could go with my current fixation, and that being Fin Walker, who expands beyond the boundaries of Holy Body Tattoo (who also has choreographed mainstream hits like Equus) Fin who absolutely dares to dive into the human soul, and explore the violence and love within. I love this woman's work so very much, that if you asked me if I could let go of my solo work, and work with one choreographer on this planet, without a doubt
it would be her, because I know that even with my two bad knees, this
woman would find a way to bring out the absolute best in my body, and
dare and push me to my limits and beyond, and that at the end of the experience, I would be a better dancer, and a better man, and a better writer, and a better lover for it. I've seen her work live once, and the rest of the time it's been either press clippings, or sporadic clips online, and everything I've seen I've absolutely loved, and I hope that one day in my life, if I ever get to work with one individual on this planet, regardless of how old I am, I truly hope it's her.

These are a few of my favourite dancers, truly, and though the images are dynamic, they don't do justice to how truly wild and unique all their individual voices are. It's not to diminish those I've seen before - whether it is a La La La Human Steps, or companies in town like The Chimera Project or Toronto Dance Theatre, or anything you'll see in Tangente or Studio 303 in Montreal (Montreal who has people like a Sarah Williams or a Jose Navas) I don't single out four and say these are the absolutes - I use them as reference points for what is coming in there here and now - Holy Body Tattoo, who in their finest moments, are linear, with an understood physicality (and my show is heavy on the linear, especially when it comes to the physical) Bill T. Jones, who incorporates a lot of narrative text in his work, and blurs the line between performer and audience (a dancing monologue, which is again, the nature of my show) Or Grupo Corpo, who's joy of just being on a stage and moving, is infectous (and a reminder that no matter the nature of the physical, this is still dance, and we are dancers, regardless of the nature of the choreography (meaning we best have fun doing what we do, and my show is definitely going to be fun to perform) And Fin Walker, who explores desire, and the nature of human interaction, and delivers wild, sensual work (and trust, I know that when I hit that level, this show will definitely qualify as wild, and sensual)

But if you ask me again, who it is, that is my favourite dancer, I will simply point you to the photograph below.



This is my favourite dancer in the planet. And though I will never be able to train her properly in something I think she would have loved, or create her a solo (or even a duet) I will say without a doubt, that in the here and now, when it comes to influences upon my work, I can only speak to what she did do for my soul (something I am quite thankful for) And though I am now entering the stage of genuine anger as to why something in friendship fell apart (Truly, I still haven't been given a reason, and I doubt I will hear one) I can't deny the influence, and in a time where I keep hearing in the news about 'speaking to the better angels within us,' etc. I'm going to try to not be angry at not knowing, or having no idea why, and just stick with the influence, and appreciate it, and then like any art, take what you're influenced by, and build upon it. That girl, no matter the circumstance, I think would wish me to do so - to be better than I've been, and to push my choreography, and my voice, and my daring, beyond what it has been.

It's interesting that as I enter a new phase in my life, where I have all the resources in the world to achieve what I wish to (I have enough, trust) and in a time where my body has become far wilder, and healthier, than it has ever been - that on the cusp of greatness (and trust, I see it on the horizon) she is no longer there. I miss her, and I miss that influence, and I miss that laughter, but in a couple of weeks I'm going to be singing to the masses, and though she's not part of it in the immediate, I'd rather not be bitter, or sad, but just love what she did for me, and love how much I grew as a person, and an artist. I'd rather take that energy, and pour it into myself, or into sarahjane, or any of my other collaborators.

I only regret that she's unrealized potential. But I have faith in her. I believe in that girl, and I'll know she'll find her way. And it's a crazy world - though I could be fatalistic and say our paths will never cross, I get this odd feeling that one day, I'm going to turn a corner, and she'll be there, laughing, and happy.

Until then, we'll keep moving, forward.

(Three weeks until opening day...)

A Good Week

It was a good week, without a doubt. The deep freeze settled into the city, and having a job where you're outside for six hours of the day, three days of the week, is not exactly the easiest thing to have, but it was truly a wild adventure. I don't know why, but I'm falling in love with this city again, and I don't think it's because the citizens of Toronto are rewarding my faith in their genorosity by making contributions to the cause (or at least it is simply not that) Maybe it was the decision to build here (a decision which a lot of people are happy about, and I'm grateful for that) Or it could be that the simple changing of my schedule to Monday, Wednesday and Friday has found me well rested for every shift (and trust, if I'm well-rested, there's no limit to what I can do, whether it is with this job, or in my art) All I know is that on Friday, the coldest day of the year, I was outside and I couldn't stop laughing. Wind Chill burning through my body and I was simply laughing throughout my entire shift (however long it did last) Maybe I just figured out something - of how I can make this truly home, and because of that, I have a lot more opportunity to stretch out beyond these particular borders, because I finally decided to settle here. Montreal is still there (and as I said previously, I will be there a lot every single year as long as I'm alive) but the crucial thing is that I am more here than I ever was. There is something to that idea which I am still learning of, and I don't know what will come of this understanding, but what I do know is that I love the feeling. And this show only needs two months of physical transformation (which, my rescheduling, has further compelled) I've waited this long, so I don't mind a couple of more weeks, and with my decision to stay, I may not leave my job fully just yet (I can take a week off here, and a week off there indefinitely) The fact that every single day when I go out to work, I don't have to worry about coming into work the next day, has absolutely freed me. I can go out dancing, or find sarahjane and work with her, or sit in my favourite hangouts and write and find strangers and lovers and old friends, and not worry about the time I will be coming home, because the next day I have plenty of time to sleep, and plenty of time to train (and it is so much easier of a thing to train, and to love, when you are paying your bills on time, and saving up plenty for the madness ahead) Yes, it was a good week, most definitely (and I can't wait to get started on the next one...)

Hit Midnight Already

I was having a good day and night, but it's been progressively getting worse as the hours have passed (and not in a fatalist sense - it's merely one of those nights) so I'm waiting for the clock to strike midnight, and then I'll attend to another session of training (the first two of the day have actually been quite good - I'm surprised considering the lack of sleep that I had last night) It's been a crossed-frequency day, where a lot of communication I could indulge in with others has been more around rather than direct (like we're just not clicking tonight when it comes to expression) The dead of winter, and this oncoming deep freeze prevents me from running outside screaming (I would, but I spend three days a week in this kind of weather, and trust, it keeps me wishing for the inside where it's warm and where there's room to move) I'm taking the evening as a sign that even though I've progressed in the body the last few days (I've noticed the change, thankfully) I may wish to focus a little more tomorrow, before I return to the streets of Toronto (I know precisely what that means, so I know what Tuesday is to be) That audible sigh you heard was me - I've actually made progress today, but there's always room for more, and less of what was today. I'm not really a dancer any more - I'm a monologuer who happens to dance, or a physical actor who can do a little afro-brasilian and contemporary, or a very good talker with a few moves you'll like to watch, and maybe it is quite possible to just be this new man, and no longer worry about having to prove something. I have nothing to prove, just a lot to show. So today, for the most part, was moving in that direction of showing, and the few hours in the night was merely a little storm. Midnight is about 45 minutes away, and I'll start the new day with a little sweat, and prepare things for tomorrow's adventure (Tomorrow has that potential for adventure) I would continue with this entry, but I think a cup of tea, a little juice, and something lovely to snack upon is required before attending to the sweat. I miss Maia more today than I did yesterday. But I'm glad I do - if I'm going to miss someone, she's a good soul to miss.

I won't exactly dry up like a raisin in the sun, or fester like a sore, and then run, eh?

Calmer.

I'm quite impressed with the universe. It seems as one door closed, several opened up. It began on the day I wrote the last post, when I found myself at the end of a work shift (well, a few minutes before it's conclusion) in a lineup for tea, at the meeting spot, when I overheard a girl speaking to a barista, and I made a casual comment (without knowing what she looked like) about how I'd do her essay for her, but I was a dancer. And she turned around with a laugh because she used to be one as well, and fifteen minutes later we were new friends, working together, with the potential for something great, regardless of the affiliation. Yesterday was more of the same, and suddenly the one door I thought would truly never close (I still feel let down, frankly, but it will pass) has unexpectedly resulted in a lot of new. Perhaps it was also my decision to stay here (still performing in Montreal, and I think as the days pass I'll feel less bitter, so the city will still see a lot of me (probably still 4-5 months out of the year if I can swing it) I think there was something powerful in finally recognizing that this is home. I felt it while standing on Indian Crescent here in the west end, on the porch of a retired gentlemen (a generous donor, as it turned out) We spoke of Toronto on that very chilly evening, and in talking with him, I realized truly how much I actually loved this place. Actually loved it. I've seen every street I could build a studio upon in this city, and truly, though I love the spirit of Montreal, there are just so many more neighbourhoods in this city that are full of life, and as Danny Grossman told me, in that Tim Hortons two months ago (paraphrasing) 'This city needs more people like you, staying here...' He's right, and that's not arrogant to say. He's just right - there were things I used to do in this city, and it's time to do them again (on a higher level) Most of it organizing wild events, but this time in my space (and though it will cost a lot more, the price will be worth it) Besides, if that girl ever understands that life is better with my friendship than without, then she may require an escape from that town (and I've always said that if she ever needs shelter, she will have it with me) So I'm good.

As for the women in Montreal, I can only tell you this - I will be there often, but there are other issues we have presently, which I'll talk about on another day, when I'm not so occupied with trying to learn more about how to use this new camera, and the details of my show, which continue to be clarified.

To the day we go.

Draw This.

Draw This.

I'm Not Satisfied...

I lost the person I am closest to on this earth last night, and I'm not happy about it at all. It would be one thing if I'd been evil or unfeeling or unkind to her, but I've been the exact opposite of such a thing for three years. Three years. And it was only days ago where during what must have been a weak moment, where I heard something to the effect of 'I need you to come here and take care of me...' I find it quite interesting that whenever things truly go to hell in her world, she sees fit not to lose the assholes, or the people who are particularily unkind to her, but she loses me (this is not the first time, though it has a lot more grave of a tone) I'm not even talking of something romantic, but I feel as if I've been dumped, and in this particular case, there was not even the courage to actually say it to me, but do such a thing electronically. I don't know why, but it seems like a rather cowardly thing to do, and the thing is, the last thing this girl is, as far as I'm concerned, is a coward. She isn't, and I'll never think her one, but in this case, when it comes to me, I can't figure out why she would be one (perhaps she knows that if it was via voice, or face to face, she wouldn't be able to do what she did) Now things are unresolved, and unknown, and she has done to me what countless others have done to her. And when there was wreckage (and there was plenty) there was no other to step on in and be there. I was there. I was always there. I was always the one to support, to be strength, to reassure, and to love. I was the constant throughout plenty and I'm still here. In the last message I heard, I heard things were even worse than they were before, and I wonder if she realizes that it's only got worse since she let this go (it's been coming for a couple of weeks, this kind of silence) Maybe, just maybe, when hell goes down, you should try and rely on the one true friend you've had, and not run from them. I didn't sleep well last night, and I doubt I'll sleep well for days, but if there is one thing - one single thing - that will come from this, it's the fact that if I required any more motivation or bite to what I'm about to present, it was just provided to me. She is, after Laura and Sam, the concluding part. The fourth chamber to the heart, the last stanza. And though she won't be there to see it, I plan on walking into my other hometown of Montreal, stepping on the largest stage I can find, and performing wildly what it is that is felt. And then I'm walking away from that town, because after losing this girl - my best friend - I no longer have a desire to live in that city anymore.

On to the day.

Clothing Optional...

This is the first image I took of my body last year. Contrary to what may appear obvious, I'm not exactly doing anything in particular to my form (I'm merely covering up what is there, shh) It was taken on a day after I had worked a very long shift outside, and naturally, if you take photographs of yourself naked, you're probably feeling a little on the sensual or sexual side. In this case, it was a day before a life-drawing class where I was posing as a model (yes, naked) and I definitely needed a confidence boost (those who know me are familiar with the image) I would say my body has improved since then, but that's not a statement of vanity, really. It's more a statement of comfort, and something I learned from two contrasting moments of dance outside the last few days. One was new year's eve, where I was unrestrained, without clothing - essentially my favourite pair of white AA boys shorts (they are a godsend of comfort and sex) And I danced quite wild - as I usually do in my space. Contrast that against the Christmas Party for work, where I was dancing on a floor with others, and received a couple of nice compliments on my dancing , but it was so difficult to be weighted down (I'm being completely serious, shut up) Shoes or socks or hell, even pants felt like too much. And I understand that the reality is, I'm going to be like this for the rest of my life - I'm eventually going to get old, but I'm still going to be healthy, and in wild enough shape that I can still make my existence clothing option (don't be offended by the image, incidentally - it's just a body, eh?) I'm laughing at the fact that my show, and this character, is going to evolve and run for so long, I may be spending the next two years in those shorts for the better part of that time, and it makes me happy, because frankly, I am quite sick of clothes, and I am working under protest starting tomorrow (I return to my practical job for a few weeks) I will wear the layers (It'll look quite good, I assure you - I'm very much on the stylish tip - I'll take photos of THAT soon) but I will treat the running around from door-to-door as a training exercise, and the moment I get home from work, the clothes will come off, the shorts will go on, and I'll end the day the way I was meant to - dancing (and dancing with little on) I remember the first accusation Maia every made to me 'You, sir, are a NUDIST...' but I wouldn't go that far just yet. I more like comfort, and I like feeling sexy, and it doesn't have to necessarily be about sleaze all the time, eh? So I think this city should give me more gigs like the ones I had New Year's Eve, or I may just have to open a club where every night is pajama dancing (I tell you, it WILL catch on...) Either way, when I open my studio in the late summer, leave your shoes (and the rest of what you have on) at the door...

Afro-Brasilian?

I've had an interesting few days - some have put up walls, and not for bad reasons (it's either been 'I don't know if my boyfriend will like this but I love it...' or a case where there are things to discuss with me that cannot be discussed now - I love that, incidentally - I wonder if now is not a right time to discuss things, then when is, eh?) I would take offence but then someone who's had a wall up for months told me that the reason why she didn't want to talk to me was because I'd hold up a mirror to her, and she knew that, and didn't want to see herself, because she knew I would make her (it was quite complimentary, actually) I was told a long time ago that I'm very intense, and I don't plan on changing that at all - personally I think it's a western hesitancy, and that if you dropped me in Paris or Amsterdam, I'd be just fine, and just right. Either way, though a lot of words haven't been said, I've seen the odd sentence come from the odd mouth which has let me know that whatever wall has been up, it's slowly coming down. Patience is easier when you see signs of daylight, and though I'm not exactly bathing on a beach in Brazil, it definitely feels like a spring jaunt through Philosopher's Walk at the moment. Maybe part of that is a return to the afro-brasilian meditation in dance, where now my training is starting to settle out in a strong way, and perfectly aligned with the fact that I do have to return to work on Wednesday (though really, is walking through the streets of Toronto in wintry bliss really that hard, if your feet and head and the rest of your body are warm?) It may get tough, and a little rough in January, but I'm still walking the path, moving foward, and I'm reminded that spring is not too far away. My job as an artist is not too far away either, so again, it's a good time to be patient, and not worry too much about matters of the heart - if one does what they are capable of, these things just find a way of taking care of themselves.

Mmm, tea.

I Spent The New Year...

...in another town, dancing in a hilarious space with music and good company, clad in very little, with a body free and open and laughter and irony, and when the clock struck midnight, I was bathed in sweat, and happy, with the taste of salt on my lips that was replaced by an unexpected kiss from a new friend, with the sounds of old David Bowie played by the dj (I'm quite sure that I'm a boy and not a girl) and the first thing to hit my lips in the aftermath was a cold bottle of water that never tasted so good, for something that has no taste. As I write this I'm learning more about this new camera I picked up (I think I chose wisely) in a newly-reconfigured space made for new disciplines in dance(?) Is this really dance or is it a martial art or meditation? Whatever it is, it suits the upcoming narrative, and it's the right preparation for this character (and the right thing for me, really) Patience is required, and patience for myself I'll have. Today I'll pick up a paycheque (hopefully) and there will be more writing to do, and I'm about to do the first session of the day. Upon the 2nd day of this year, I would say that my body feels like it needs a few of the cobwebs wiped away, but I'll attend to that. It's cold in Toronto, but aside from one or two days the last couple of weeks, it's been cold for awhile, but now that we're in January, I can say that we only have about what, 78 days or so until the first day of spring? (Seems not so far away, suddenly) If there is one thing I'd say about myself is that I don't want conditionally, and where most desire is something to indulge in because of boredom or because 'it's there, so I'll have it...' I would say that at this point, everything that I feel is precise - I know what I want, and who I want, and it's good to be aware of such things, and then just work. Work which I love. Work which will not be distracted by my practical work, which begins again next week for four more weeks, and then I'll be an unemployed artist once more - an unemployed artist with a show, and the practical resources to pull it off. So as I sit here this morning, I would just tell you that as years go, 2009 is starting out just fine, thank you.

To the day we go.