Slow It Down

I am so glad that I remembered to slow it down (just in time for spring) You see, sometimes you can train a little too fast, and when you do, you lose the subtlety in motion, and things are far too exhausting (and not enough of pleasure) The last two days the sweat has been far more delicious, and I see the clock and I know I will attend to things again, presently. It's a good thing that I haven't worked so much the last couple of weeks (more due to illness than anything) I found my swagger again, though. I just decided to not be so loud, and approach things a little more quietly, because I remembered that a person who talks less and simply does more is the kind of individual I'm always trying to be (I don't always get it right, mind you) So if the dance I am on to, suddenly presents the results I am expecting (You don't really need to be surprised all the time, though, by the way) then I have a feeling that the swagger may become at once quieter, and a lot more pronouced, and with the promise of such a thing, I'm crossing my fingers, sliding on my shorts, and I'm going to see what happens...

Manic Coffee & Montreal?

I was at this lovely place yesterday. It's on College St. and it's named Manic Coffee, near Bathurst (it's a little more decorated now, since this photograph) It was the first time since the old Tequila Bookworm that I felt so at ease in a cafe to not only write, but to talk to strangers (and have them talk to me, without prodding) All this place needs are a few books upon shelves that do not exist, a couple of couches at the back, and a later closing time, and I'd be in heaven. It's been around for a year and a half, or so, but Sunday was the first opportunity I had to actually enter (and I am so glad I did) I swear, I know there will never be another Tequila, but at least I found a place to settle in and actually write more than a few words (and it came upon the heels of a wild day of dancing)

I'm in Montreal in 3-4 weeks. It will be an amusing experience (that's a nod to one of you in particular, I love that word 'amusing...') I'm in the best shape I've been in ages suddenly (god, it's so good to find the dance you love, and stop attempting to be someone you're not, and expanding upon that base) I have that weird 'it's so warm, my body wants to take a nap' feeling that only spring can give, and I realize that when I arrive in Montreal to perform, I don't know if Maia will be there (I have a feeling she will be, and I hope she's alright) I already have a feeling that even though Carolynn inspired the 30 days of wild, she won't be observing the narrative (You should know, if you are still reading this, that I wanted to tell you that i hold no grudge, I truly think you're beautiful, and you can know me if you wish to, be it now or ten years from now, love) Sam will be working down the street from me, and I think I may be able to entice her into a cup of tea, and Sarah? Well, I think she'll have one wild laugh at stanza #2 (I know you're coming, darling - you're courageous like that) The show I bring to Montreal will be observed by an audience made up of 99 percent of strangers (just the way I wanted it) and though the title and the emotion behind it has changed (You see, somewhere in the last fifteen days of afro-brasilian dance, I lost my longing, and found my resolve) I'm still just plain old happy that here I am, looking through classified ads for a place to stay for a couple of weeks (I pray that one space comes through, and oh my fucking god I have a little perfection on my hands) I'm not sick. My legs are scarred, but they are good, and I'm sleeping well again (touch wood) Somewhere in all that dancing I let go of a little something, and I don't miss it whatsoever, and god, that took a lot, you know.

Hey, you should come on out.

(I put on a good show)

596 Minutes

Nine days in and my body has undergone dramatic transformations, and not via starving myself or a lack of nutrition (This is the healthiest I've ever been in reshaping, and it feels so good, I really don't want to stop) It is happening even while the seizures have returned, and the cancer treatment has caused some nasty infections to my legs (which have healed, but now it appears I'll have scarring and discoloration to live with, but I'm fine with that) I slept little last week and yet here I am, in nine days, with 596 minutes of intense afro-brasilian dancing in that time (An hour a day of this in spite of everything else, aside from other training, hospital visits, an overnight stay or two, and my job) You have to understand that this kind of dancing has no artistic merit whatsoever. It's not choreography, or a specific thought being expressed, but pure sensuality and desire and joy, and really, maybe that is ultimately all that matters. I am thinking about kissing someone wild, and I know she is thinking of me in a similiar fashion, and I am content with not having that kiss at the moment, 'cause there definitely is more work to do (but that work will take me to her, or at least her to my doorstep, I am sure (perhaps?) It seems whether it's scar tissue on the brain, or scars upon my legs, or scars of the heart being revealed, I'm fine with all of them, because the end result is a man who can now afford this piece of run-down property on the Mile End (I don't have to buy it just yet, and if I lose it, there are others to take it's place) and a show starting on April 9th. If silly little girls wish to be silent, men will move forward, and on, and though bone is on bone in my left knee, I can still move in a way that some cannot. A gallery will put up some art by a man indirectly related to this narrative, and a girl will drink a little wine, and look at the door, waiting for me to walk in (Thank you for that inside bit of information, you know who you are) The reality is, in the 596 minutes of the last nine days of dancing (and trust, I've been physical in other ways beyond that, and will continue to be so) I seem to have found my core desire, and lost that selfishness. We don't have to fuck, but I know now you wouldn't mind lying in a bed with me for a long while, and have us devour each other's mouths until the sun rises. You don't have to take your clothes off, or show me more of your body, but I'd like to hear what you have to say, and more of what you feel than even how (in the literal) you feel. Maybe we can take a long walk and you can tell me about what you dream of, instead of my simply wanting to taste your sex (which I won't lie, I want to, but I don't have to do it now) Maybe I should just remember that though it feels like spring, it's not spring yet, and that I can wait for the season to turn, and start enjoying more the days leading up to it, rather than the actual event.

You can proceed with chemotherapy, and the potential brain surgery. The reality is, even with all of my many sins and perversions and the things I lack, I'm now fine.

100 Minutes

In the last two days I've done a hundred minutes of a style of dance I have not done, in months. I do not think it coincidence that suddenly, even in a deep chill of winter once again, that the sun appears warmer on the body, and that I feel so much stronger than even a mere two days ago. 100 minutes of really ripping up the floor and suddenly that energy that was before winter, has returned again (I just love that I actually have the financial resources as well to harness that particular energy in a more practical manner, at the moment) The possibility exists tonight that I may go for another fifty of this particular discipline (which was only one of three different kinds of practices today) I'll have to learn to do two things before I head off to work on Wednesdays to Fridays (But I believe this new strength, and the changing season will help that discipline) I feel strong, and stripped down again, and the narrative is quite basic (both in the show, and the life) Spring, though it be a dastardly wind chill, is coming, whether old man winter likes it or not.

As for desire, I've decided to not worry about it. Too many other things to do, to pay attention to those who say they want (and yet do not show it)

I am worthy of a display. Period.

No matter. In days everything will begin, and I have a feeling that the display I put on, will at least inspire others to match.

(Perhaps even you)