Maia

I do not know if we will see each other when I'm in your town upon Monday (it's alright if we don't, I'm going to be in that town of yours a lot the next few months) You should know, though, that I'll be disappointed that on such a beautiful time of the year, the early part of June, my favourite time to spend in that city of yours, Montreal, I won't be sitting across from you at a table sipping on tea and laughing at how useless, it appears, any fears or misgivings were. Yes, there are, no doubt, things that are unsaid upon our lips that if we were to speak them, would cause a little bedlam, but one of the great things about art is that it affords you the opportunity to speak without actually opening your mouth, and that the things unsaid sometimes will not be spoken as a word, but more of a whisper, or something within choreography, or narrative monologue. Art lets us hide. It's like burying yourself in a warm blanket with someone, and the experience between performer and audience is an intimate one - 'it was like they were speaking to me, and me alone...' (But you'll know that it was the truth when the show starts, I think) I do know that if in the last month, specifically the last days of April, if I were to speak the words that came to me, I wouldn't have found this thread of narrative (nor the strength to dare to actually say it, cause it has to be said, and I've become quite good at the unspeakable)



I always carry around cigarettes in your town, in case a beautiful girl asks me for a smoke.

Seven days.

Seven days until Montreal. I love what is happening to me in Toronto, but I seriously need to get out of town as soon as possible, and steal away to Montreal. Through the generosity of one good friend, I'll have my own apartment for seven days, at the corner of st. denis and duluth, and I have every intention of making this a working vacation. Whatever mysterious illness I've had upoon my legs is not within my blood - if anything, I had bloodwork done for everything from HIV to calcium levels to everything else, just to eliminate the possibilities of what this could be, and everything turned out 'clean...' as the doctor said (which is such a horrible word on other levels - I didn't like the usage cause it would imply that others are 'dirty...') But I understand the implication - I'm healthy, and that's wonderful. Perhaps it's a new reaction to chemotheraputic cream, or some new skin disorder, but whatever the case, the biopsy is tomorrow, the session in front of U ot T medical students soon after, but there are no worries on that level, and now that there are not, the mind is clearing up. This trip, and this show, are a priority. I've settled into my new role at the practical job quite well (I've actually become a better leader, and fundraiser, and suddenly have found myself to be quite a teacher when it comes to training others) There is no intellectual contemplation required as to how I can be better because in those hours that I work, I simply learn how to be. No distractions, and no excuses any more, and I need to get out of this town and figure out just what the hell this show is to be, and come back to Toronto with clarity, and everything intact, so that I can start performing here (and return to Montreal one month later, to perform it further)

My voice got stronger, the body more daring, while I went through this. I haven't had time to properly realize just what this means, and seven days from now, I'll have that opportunity (I just have to be elsewhere, to understand it properly)

I wonder where Maia is.

The Loss of a Left Leg.

I wouldn't say I've been particularily unlucky the last while. I accepted a promotion at work (I've been turning it down for a year and a half because I didn't want it to interfere with my creative work) I took the promotion because it was on my terms, and I simply felt it time for a little more progression. Now, I'm in a new phase of evaluation that prevents the actual pay increase, but once I get through it, that retroactive pay shall be very delightful (and truthfully, I'm enjoying the new responsibility) Unfortunately, two weeks into the promotion I suffered a major infection in my left leg, and rashes all over both. The initial thinking was a staph infection/cellulitis, but after further consultation, I apparently have a mystery on my hands. This mystery has not only caused a cosmetic damage to my legs, but my left leg internally suffered some major damage - septic arthritis being one result, and the others as well, still a mystery (I hope to find out more on Tuesday) You have to look at an infection as something that will continue to do damage, the longer it goes untreated (makes perfect sense, eh?) The antibiotics I was on have run out, and I'm still in pain (I've been told that's a natural result even after infection goes down - pain will be present for awhile) The left knee, which already had major problems, now has even more complications, and I have intense pain from my inner thigh down to the outer part of my left ankle. Simply, it hurts. I'm not feeling like an old man, but I'm limping around a little bit like one. A couple of days into this infection, there was even the possibility that if things continued the way they were, I would lose it. As it stands now, I won't lose the limb literally, but I've lost a lot of it for the moment, and I've been told that depending upon the damage, it may simply never be the same.

Having said all that, I'm still alive. Though my left leg has damage, the rest of me feels strong. I have no intention of stopping my show, or my trip to Montreal. The biopsy on the rashes is a few days before the trip (You can't exactly cut into a man when he has an infection) Though I know circumstances with my left leg will force me to adapt to circumstances, and that I may never walk or dance properly again, I'm still an optimist, and when I was lying in bed with that fever for a few days, I vowed that when I got stronger, I would go to places I've never been, whether it's the discipline in the art, or geographical. You have to understand that once you go through the pain of what I went through, you lose your fear of it, and when you lose your fear of it, you become dangerous, in the best of ways. I feel it today, that even though it was one rough period of time to get through (and even though I'm still in it) I'm strong enough to still work up a sweat, and the voice is even more precise than it ever was.

I also know that there is a decision to make, when it comes to the heart, and that I made it, against my will. I'll stay purposely cryptic. The most I can say is that my show will say everything, and be it with one leg or two, I'm still moving forward.