New Stimuli

I'm not scared of the biopsy (Those who know me know that I can endure anything, and I have the scars to prove it) Slide the needle in already, and leave it there for awhile if you like, and I'll walk around with it feigning that I've been stabbed by a wayward nurse (really, I'm too healthy of an individual on all levels for this to be serious - my money is on it being a blister from an infection) I don't really care what results tell me cause I know what the body is telling me today - that I feel strong and wild, and with a further motivation (a little bit of new stimuli is the reason) I like that a playlist is being created for me in dance, by a very talented artist with a parallel sensibility (You should know by now that when I find a creative friendship, I pay attention to it, cause it's absolutely worth the time to develop such connections with people on this planet - they can be few and far between) The two sessions of training have been a little more of the primal variety, and I wonder if this motion was buried, and that I simply required something fresh and new to bring it out of me (which is a commentary upon what has been - clearly there has been a reason for the overall body fatigue, and it hasn't been physical) I sit here typing and realize that I require another sweat, and more of a dance, and then I need to get this appointment out of the way so that I can come on home, and do some more (bleeding chest and all) If I do get eventually cut open, and there is a scar, I'll make sure I do something creative with it, and proudly wear it (as I will the ones upon my legs, they are begging for a tattooed narrative) Scars are meant for tongues, I think. Scars are meant for fingertips and laughter and salt. Either way, I demand more of dance, and more of conversation and dialogue as I've had in the last while, and less of a sameness.

Let's dance.

(Shall we?)

Hello Morning

I feel so much better this morning. I think it's cause it's the first Monday I've had off in ages, and I suddenly have two more days to work upon the art. If I look at what I wish to achieve today, it's two training sessions, transcription of narrative, and a further organization of the wild Nuit Blanche event Benjamin and I will be responsible for, upon the 3rd of October. If all three things happen today, then there is no reason why every single day can't be just as productive (I can forgive myself for only being able to train during the Wednesday-Friday period of time, as there is a studio I do have to buy, so I have to bend to the practical...) On a purely different subject last night, a very beautiful girl did point out to me that certain statements were just words, and she's right. Love, even of the self, isn't about declarations or songs or expressions of affections. No, love is about hard work. Love is about a depth of understanding and compassion and empathy, and the desire to push forward upon things regardless of the circumstances. I am definitely not the greatest when it comes to loving someone (especially myself, at times) but I'm working on it. At this moment of time in my life, upon the 13th of July, the defining acts of love I have to make are all within that narrative. There is no pursuit of anyone, and odd as it sounds, I have no time to pursue a single soul on a direct path. I'm not supposed to be singing love songs, or standing outside of a window at the moment, lamenting. The reality is, I have no cause to lament. Four weeks from now I'm going to be in Montreal performing. Twelve weeks from now I'll be boarding a flight to Paris to perform for two weeks. Two and a half months from now I'll be helping to stage one of the wildest events this town will ever see (all with such elegant simplicity) There is a girl waiting for me in another town who plays a mean guitar and backflips with the best of them, a friend who I will allow to become a lover (something tells me I won't become soft or passive from a touch, but wilder, and harder, as it should be) There is a novella to finish writing (a promise I made to Shannon before she left was that I would, and so I shall) about two dancers (One of them, regardless of circumstances, who I am grateful for, for sparking the voice again) Do I sit here, tired, and uninspired, or do I polish off this cup of coffee, stretch out, and get started with what is looking like one promising, wild day?

What do you think?

The Week Ahead

List

1. Train (weights, jiu jitsu & wrestling - dancing is not permitted this week)
2. Further organization of Nuit Blanche show with Benjamin (I need more sexy naked dancers)
3. Regain my sanity (good luck on that one, eh?)
4. Experience less unrequited desire/lust (if unable, see five)
5. Experience more unrequited desire/lust (and pour it into aforementioned art)
6. Watch less bad pornography
7. Watch a lot of good pornography?
8. Work for only three days for this week (and the rest of the summertime)
9. Try to not think about someone's mouth (or the rest of her body for that matter)
[Screw That]
10. Write the novella further
11. Photograph for the narrative (I can wait a few extra days for that)
12. Buy a train ticket to Montreal and have no plans to see anyone
13. Hang out with your girlfriend and tell you how good she smells
14. Go one week without having a girl tell me how lousy her boyfriend is
15. Dare to eat a peach

If I achieve at least 75% of this, it will be a good week, yes?

Maddy pt. 6

You have to leave his bed, you know. I somehow get the feeling you are there tonight (I could be way off, but you are not far removed from that place) Maybe you are here, but will eventually end up there again, so the sentiment may still apply. You have to leave his bed because the kind of love you are given is a shell of what you truly deserve, and I know the price to pay for settling, because I've settled far too many times for a taste that is lacklustre, or not deserving of the kind of pleasure that I can give. I've had mediocrity, and lovers who lie there and simply take the pleasure, yet are far too uninspiring in return. I've known what it's like to fuck someone who doesn't love you (and you don't really love them) and these days, I'd rather be in a bed by myself than be with a warm body that is far too cold. I know you have problems sleeping, and it has to hurt to be in your bed and to reach out for someone who is not there - I've known that when I've lost lovers, and girlfriends, and once, someone to death. I know how hard it is for you to not feel the warmth of touch but is his touch really all that inviting, or are his fingertips really like ice down your spine? How is it, Maddy, to give your wild, divine body to someone who complains about the dishes in the morning, before even kissing you? In what universe is it where a girl like you deserves that (and what kind of man can be so mediocre that he cannot see what it is that he does to you) You have to leave the bed of this supposed lover and find yourself elsewhere, be it in your own bed, or in the bed even of a friend (You talk so much of how men want you for sex - how would it be to just be held without it? Do you remember what that is like? Is it something that you've had?) Don't follow my lead. I settled. I settled for being a whore and I'm paying for it now because I don't know what it is to feel close to someone on all levels (though I'm starting to understand how to be, or what that means, again, but it took a long time to find that) You deserve more, Madeleine. The kiss on your mouth should linger sweetly, not taste like ash. The hand upon your back should burn into your body, not paralyze your spine. The love you give, is the love you should receive. Brutal as it sounds, try a little loneliness, and demand what you deserve, already.

It's what I thought of tonight, while I danced.

Maddy pt. 5

This is always going to be my favourite photograph of you (You didn't think I was going to show them your face just yet, eh?) It's a lot more fun this way, I think.

(I'll give you an excerpt upon your return from Montreal)

Friday

I had one of those transforming days, Friday. I took the day off from work (I've been so wound into the job, my art has been suffering, so I needed a little time) I spent the day training, and then at night, I decided I needed to revisit The Green Room (it had been months) but I took an unusual path there (I stopped off at St. Clair West station, and decided to shop at the gigantic Loblaws for a few healthy supplies) And then I took a walk down Bathurst, with a little detour on Albany Rd. to Bloor and Bathurst (it took a bit of time) It was too gorgeous of a day to simply show up and start writing. Thing is, when I did, I found someone hovering over my shoulder two minutes in, and it turned out to be my friend Benjamin (who was one of the last people I saw before I headed off to Montreal, but it was on the streetcar, and he was with his girlfriend, so we didn't have too much time to speak) This time though, we did, and in the conversation, I found out that Ben was launching his wild, fabulous art (it truly is - I'll post a sample or two up later) above the renovated upstairs (or soon-to-be renovated) of a space on Baldwin Ave (if you know this stretch of Baldwin, it's close to the AGO and OCAD, and is frequented heavily on a Saturday night. It also happens to be on the day of Nuit Blanche, on the 3rd, which makes it all the more perfect, since the space is in between the zones, and was trafficed heavily during last year's event. Two rooms, and while Ben will be launching art in one space, I'll be running the other room, which will be a combination of violent physical theatrical presentation/life-drawing modelling (it's too hard to explain - let's just say you're peeking in on a universe reflective of the art) Bells were ringing in my head, and I felt an excitement at this I haven't felt about anything in a long time (it's still a mild electric feeling) It was the perfect compliment to the narrative I'm ready to present (and a heavy influence upon it) and I knew there was a reason I took Friday off (if I hadn't, this wouldn't be happening) The symmetry was perfect, and now, I'm partly responsible for what I know, will be one memorable evening upon the 3rd of October.

To the day now, though, there's a lot of training and show preparation and organization required. I've had my pasta for breakfast, and it's time to sweat.

Thin.