bodyelectric

Threshold

2010-10-06T22:38:00.002-04:00

You hit a point, and then you have to attend elsewhere. You come close and you can feel the burn, and then you realize you have somewhere else to be, and you leave. You know you are close, and that there's a level of understanding and balance to achieve, yet you're always pulled in another direction, and you don't really have that extra ten or twenty minutes to spare. Days and then weeks and months pass, and you find yourself believing that what you do is enough, and all the while the voice gets a little quiet, and quieter, and before you know it, you're one step away from silent, and those obligations are quite loud, to the point of deafening.

And then you have a day where you don't surrender to the obligation, and you simply make the choice to keep moving, and you hit a level you have not been in ages, and suddenly everything changes.

I am so there now.

Hey Jenn

2010-07-23T22:29:00.003-04:00

I wanted you to know what I was up to tonight. Things have been building creatively - I think I'm finally starting to move ahead in things, and being smarter and healthier about how I'm working in the practical, and that Saturday afternoon coffee at Ideal with Helen which sparked one idea of choreography, has sparked some further things when it comes to our collaboration. I want you to know that the greatest gift a partner could give another is space and time, and there's no one else on this planet who understands that more about me, than you. So if you're wondering what I'm up to tonight, I'm going over notes for our first piece together - it's taken a little while due to my creative inactivity and your imprisonment, but I've finally seen an idea evolving involving us. It's going to be quite demanding on you - as a narrative it'll force you to become part photographer and part dancer, and that means a parallel physical transformation where you're really going to have to method act - you're going to find yourself thinning and leaning and emptying out while getting stronger and harder and more fierce, and it is a journey I'm going to share with you, because the demands of my character are similar to yours (when you and I get together for tea on a Monday night I'll show you the notes for what I'm coming up with, and you'll fully see) I think it's fantastic that we're even at the point now where the circumstances have now permitted us to work and build something together, and though our connection is as natural as breathing, this is going to be something where there's going to definitely be anger and clashing and fierceness, and I think we're both looking forward to that gigantic studio space, because when you see the idea, trust me you're going to want to come on over and work on the narrative, and I'm so excited that we get to share that opportunity. SO, if you're wondering where I am tonight, it's in the space I have at the moment, working up a sweat, storyboarding and making notes, while browsing other mediums of a similar kind of art, for a further inspiration. Your understanding is absolutely appreciated, darling, and if this city is about people surrendering to being their own sexy selves, the mere empathy for this artist and his creative process, makes you sexy, so thanks beautiful.

On to it!

Older

2010-07-17T12:01:00.002-04:00

Some mornings you feel it a lot more, depending upon the evening before (the evening before being a moment I haven't had in a long while) I'm looking at the calendar and I know that in a few weeks I'll at last be settled into my new space (I expected months ago such a relocation, so I'm glad that it's finally come to pass) I think I had to wait for the right kind of place to be in, and it's a lot bigger than I expected, which I'm glad for. How this ties in to the feeling of how you feel 'it' a lot more is simple - I'm quite sick of waking up here, because this space is too small to hold all the ideas that I have been waiting for too long to explore. I'm glad that I still have the ideas to begin with (and they are so much better) But ideas are nonsensical if you're not applying a little bit more of an action to them, yes? They are just scrawling that is unintelligible and really doesn't have much meaning until you put the full weight of your effort behind them. Effort is discipline, be it to get enough rest or good food or to balance the practical with the fantastic (although the practical does have it's fantastic moments) I don't feel like I'm disciplined and healthy enough where I am, and that the first day I roll out of bed and I stand up and suddenly there is all this sunshine pouring through all of the windows and I look across my space and there'll be enough room to run towards the kitchen - it's that moment I require to fully commit to the ideas I've put on to paper. For me, the priority is to just get through the next few weeks while furniture is moved out, and the space is vacated and I can take ownership of it. Effort is also staying physical with the space you have, and I'm trying - I've had a pretty intense 2010 when I think of all the things that have happened, and all the people that I have loved who are no longer here, and the evolving responsibilities which I've taken to quite well (I've grown so much in this time, who I was last year I don't really recognize - it's me but a far better version in the here and now) Only a few more weeks of maintaining and continuing to repair the damage physically. Though I've been working a lot at my practical job, I fully recognize how much it's shaped me, and changed me for the better, and how the work is beginning to become complimentary to the nature of my existence again, thankfully. At the same time, I've let myself be beaten down a little bit by the workload, and I'm only now starting to balance things out. I feel it this morning, but it wasn't from the work, but the choreography, and the excitement of working with a couple of amazing individuals I've met through the work that I've done in my job. I earned this space. I earned it. And when I wake up in the morning, that first day, you can be sure that I'm going to leap out of bed, and run with gigantic, bounding steps to my kitchen, hop up on the kitchen counter in my underwear, pour myself a cup of coffee, and look out at this beautiful city for a bit, before I start my day of training and work. This is the life waiting for me, and in the last days of being here, I can't wait for it.

Ahead

2010-07-11T17:37:00.003-04:00

I am making a decision to return to doing this kind of work again (I miss it, and it's way too much fun, so I shall)

Eulogy

2010-07-11T13:39:00.006-04:00

I am trying to wrap my brain around the fact that you are gone. I've experienced death in my lifetime more than a few times, but it's your loss in particular which sticks. To contemplate the fact that you are not here, for someone so full of life and living and promise. Someone with so much passion and yet so much anguish and pain that you endured in the short time you were upon this planet, and how you somehow managed to get beyond such things and find love. You were the example of poetry that I would use, of transforming something of grief into something of wild beauty and joy. If I were to sit down and discuss with another all the elements of a tragic beauty, you would be it. To even frame such things in past tense does not make sense to me at all - there's a displaced quality to it all where in quiet moments (I find these come when I am motion, be it dance or walking along with my headphones on, or on the bus) I'll think of you and the fact that not too long ago, you closed your eyes and this time you did not open them. The mere fact that your physical being does not exist, and that you are wisps of smoke and ashes scattered about, and how I'd tell your little sister over and over again throughout this all that your soul is intact, and I so believe that, but that I wish it was present, in the here and now, in living flesh with laughter. You reminded me of all the great laughter - the kind that isn't polite or as courtesy, but the one that would make you double over and howl and roll on the floor unable to breathe because you'd be so full of joy. Imagine that, that you had the kind of charm to suffocate people, and we never minded it whatsoever. I am trying to understand how someone so beautiful and sensual and playful and sexy who had no inhibition and the mind of a genius (who else could get into Harvard while in a coma? Only you could do that, you know) is not here.

(Where did you go?)

I've been sick on some level since you died. I haven't really recovered fully just yet, and though I'm the tower of strength for everyone, in your last days you taught me that I should allow myself to be more vulnerable, and that the only way to truly be strong is to admit it when you're hurting, so I'm hurting. And now that I've admitted that, I think it's also a good thing to tell you that you've lit a fire under my ass in the best possible of ways. I know I've been ill and ailing and that physically I haven't felt myself for weeks since you first became ill, and that the majority of this summertime has been spent either lying in bed or at my job, but that I'm assuring you in the here and now that when I'm feeling stronger (and I will be feeling stronger) that promise I made to you before you died I will absolutely keep, and that I promise you that you will not be forgotten, and that there is a wealth of surprises to share with the world that will have your name, or your impression attached to them, and that I'll do your memory justice with what is being offered, and that even in death, you will still always be one of the most beautiful souls I will have ever encountered, and that I'm so glad that we met when things were absolutely rough for you, and that I had the pleasure of helping you do what you ultimately did on your own, and that's move forward. I'll move forward for you, and I'll keep watch over your sister and give her all the love and attention I can give, and I'll relearn how to dance, and I'll build that school, and I'll repair and heal and love. I'll remember my priorities and make sure that as I transition into a new phase of my life, when I stretch out in my new space and begin to move again, somewhere you'll be around, and though it's a negative thing usually to imply a haunting, I hope you're around, you prankster girl, to play with me every chance you get.

You were lovely, and you are lovely, and I'll miss you, beautiful, but not enough to hide away from the world and withdraw and forget. For you, I'll remember myself. I promise.

Maps, Charts, and Projections

2009-11-26T15:03:00.002-05:00

I only required space and time. That is all that was ever needed at this point, and I didn't know it until I took the opportunity to find out. I knew it when I had that familiar chill in my spine, and when my mouth opened up like I was hungry in a way I had not been, in a long time (and it is still not closed, and it is as if I am being hollowed out, and it is a divine pleasure, trust) I knew it when my step made me faster than anyone I was walking by, and I wasn't winded, and I knew it when it was as if I had seven projections in front of my eyes, all with different aspects of narratives - of maps and charts and words, and last lines first. I knew that all I had required in the last six months was just a moment to simply breathe, and that I had not found it in Montreal, and I would not find it here, until I had taken space from everyone and everything, save for what I chose. You choose, you know. Even when you are outside for a stroll in the fall air, it's still all a choice as to what it is you invite in, and what you deem unnecessary, and last night it was as if, for the first time in four years, everything else simply fell away (and four years ago, I wasn't even close to being this man, trust me) Matters of love or sex don't matter in a sense, because things will attend to themselves. You feel absolute longing but it somehow shifts in direction, and you know that the only way to someone's mouth, or to be inside of their body, or to anything of longing, is the path you suddenly find yourself on. So here it was, waiting. I didn't understand it until the now, and now that I know, only a full surrender is going to bring this all to the surface, so I give in (Here are my wrists for you, so bind them, and take me with you...) I do know that I will, in all likelihood, as a result of this, have the wildest bedroom in the city of Toronto (and it could have been no other way) Control isn't necessarily the issue, but the understanding that it's no longer time to give in to variables out of my hands. You see, no one has ever known how to construct a setting like this, who I know. So I have to give the example. I had paralyzed my mind with thoughts of how it should be, and it only took a moment of walking into a new space to realize what I could do with this narrative (and I'm doing so as we speak) I have four more days until I return back to work. Four days (Four days is plenty, yes) Money is not an issue. Whatever it takes and whatever has to be done, and whatever I have to do physically I will do for this. I'm surrendering. I'm yours. I'm giving in and giving in again until you have me (and until this is finished)

Coincidentally, this entry is finished (To it we go...)

You have to come to me now.

2009-11-21T15:47:00.002-05:00

I'm taking a little time off from things in a couple of days (I've more than earned it) I would call it a rest but it's the exact opposite of a rest. If anything, it's to properly realign. I have too many openings and discoveries, and not enough time to fully pursue them. Time is always available, actually - it's just a matter of taking it, which I am (and I'm glad for it) Though I am tired, this is probably the healthiest I've felt in a long while. Healthy not only in the body and the spirit, but in this particular case I'll point out the wallet. I suddenly have resources (I suddenly have a lot of resources due to what I can only call an unexpected financial winfall of sorts) Either way, it changes the terms of what will be in the new year, and in order to properly attend to that, I need time off from work (which I am now taking for about eight days or so - plenty of time for what I have to do) But no negotiating terms anymore. I don't like variables in other people's hands, because other people either fuck it up, or others fuck things up for them. Me, well, though I can be accused of having my perversions and my deadly habits, when it comes to the things that I do I don't fuck up (ok, that's not entirely accurate - I don't fuck up now) It's not that I'm afraid of secret rooms or unexpected pleasures or possibilities (I so am ready for anything along those lines) All I am saying now is that I've decided that in the new year, since I have the money to do so, I'm setting up shop somewhere, and inviting you over. Now you can come, and you can come and dance, and you can come and watch (or you can even come and fuck, and you know who you are) Either way, I am shopping for a bed, and I'm shopping for a studio now, and I'm not afraid of the variables that comes with this decision. I know it's risky, and I know it's vague, but it's a blog entry. Blog entries aren't about specifics in terms of 'this is on the list of things to do' Blog entries are like taking notes in a journal quickly while you're sitting in a cafe waiting for a friend. They are incidental, and just reflective of the moment (and at this moment, I just made one gigantic entry in my so-called journal)

You have to come to me now, yes. I'm pretty, I'm a dancer, I fuck better than most men, and I know you (It will be reflected in narrative, yes)

(Yes...)

Maddy pt. 7

2009-11-09T23:30:00.002-05:00

I'm dis appointed in your lovers. Your excuses for men (or in this particular case, a man) How little he must know of what he has let go (and let go of again and again) It is not enough for me to let it pass without a word or two, to say that he has let go of the one taste every man should kill for. That he has let go of the one who would do things for him beyond any other inclination by any other, and that his failure in recognizing it makes him forever a failure as a man. You should know, Maddy, that anyone who cannot give in to any desire that you wish for is a coward, and fearing of love and sex and any other wild desire a man could know. You are a dancer that is not recognized, you know. Your teachers fail at it when they give you a choreography that does not challenge or dare you. Your friends fail to know how much it matters for you to feel lean and empty and how anything that makes you otherwise merely weighs you down (and you were meant to be frail and thin and so lovely) I wish I could barricade you and I in a room together and we could starve ourselves and only have our dance and each other to feed us (it is a desire that doesn't have to be satisfied, but it has to be spoken of so that you know that there is at least one man who actually understands what it is that you demand and require) Your supposed man is a failure and where he is a failure is in his inability to give in to what most would kill for. You are absolute desire. You have a body and a heart that was made for pleasure, and the fact is whether he or anyone else knows it, you have few (if ever any) who have known how to properly encourage it (Do I make any sense at this point with what I say, darling?) So this finds you at the end of something. I have no doubt that your heart and your spirit feels crushed at the present time but it would be unwise to bend to such a thing. You do not need to give in to the loss, but understand that who you are at the moment, however wildly beautiful and so giving you are, is nothing compared to the woman that you are becoming, and that all of this loss will only compel you further to strip down everything you are (right down to your physical sense) and build yourself back up again. The temporary cruelty you have felt cannot touch how wild you are. How your body and your heart and your soul are intact, and though you feel loss you will soon feel weightless, and uninhibited, and pity the man who has let you go, for you are a dancer, and no man in his right mind lets go of a dancer, let alone one so beautiful, and so alive. You are the very definition of living, and though bruised and hurt, you are far more living and breathing and daring than he will ever be, and one day, very soon, in the quiet away from everyone, you will laugh at how he was so much of what was (and how so much of what was, is no longer required...)

An old entry to begin a new phase.

2009-10-26T10:13:00.001-04:00

I am not a fan of restraint anymore. Delayed gratification with slow progress, or hesitations or doubts. How you kill desire is by demonstrating an inability to find a way to work with the circumstances you are provided, to come closer to the one that you want (and want badly) A time eventually comes when you no longer have the patience, and it's not an intellectual decision at all. It comes in the physical, where you realize that even though there is still a hint of the wonder and the delight and the wild, it is buried in an avalanche. One day, you just simply let go. You love still, and you always will, but your desire to move and push forward with something disappears. Is it cruel? Yes. Is it fair to crucify me for it? Perhaps. I make promises, but if you do not allow me to keep them, how can a thing survive? Are you beautiful? Absolutely. Are you a wonderful soul? Without a doubt. Do you make me laugh? Always. All I will say is that the allure of the narrative overwhelmed you. It's no reflection on your worth. You are worthy of the wildest, boldest of love. I offered it. The wall that you put up (and keep in mind that even in the most evil of circumstances, there were freedoms you could have fought for, that you did not - simple little things that there there, and you did not, but could with others) was too much. I saw a window of opportunity to pursue the narrative. To put the show first. I put the show first. I'm sorry. As I said, you can crucify me all you like for turning my focus to perfecting the craft, the show, and the soul, but before you do, ask yourself genuinely if you could have done more to brought me closer, and if the answer is 'Yes...' then perhaps on some level, you should at least understand why I feel the way I feel. How you kill desire is by not attending to it. I attended. I waited, and pushed, and I provoked. You ultimately did not reply, and the saddest thing is, you are one of the greatest lovers on the planet. Something was there. And we let it go.

Wednesday

2009-08-12T00:37:00.002-04:00

I'm in the mood to get physical all day and night.

(That is it)

Delayed Gratification?

2009-08-10T20:53:00.003-04:00

The show is ready, but I will not be performing it just yet. The Nuit Blanche show is now the priority. I am not worried about 'losing it' because the narrative is intact, and it's ready to go, and I always have said that it's just a matter of the body evolving to the point of being able to pull it off. Well, the preparation for Nuit Blanche will be more than enough to make me ready for what is to come in October. For now, all I have to focus on is being physical, since the narrative that is evolving for NB is relying upon a structured improvisation (with a little cosmetic adjustment?) It means I'm not worried about scripting, or the finer details, or over-preparation. All NB requires for this installation is a beginning, middle, and end (and me and my dancers will attend to the rest) Anyways, at this point, I required a little something more simple - if I'm just working at my job, continuing to organize for the 3rd of October, and just getting physical, I'll be a happy man. Besides, the crux of Arrogant Little Fuck has to be about someone who is justified in his behaviour, and though I'm close when it comes to the body, and what it can do, I am simply not there yet. Yes yes, I know this is a show that has yet to get off of the ground, but what I'm doing at NB is a natural lead-in, and isn't it more about being led by the process, and not the possibility of the end result? Would I have wandered into The Green Room that day, and have encountered Benjamin, without my show? I seriously doubt it (in the most tangible sense, the reason why I had that rare day off on that day, was exactly because I needed time to work upon the narrative, and two hours later, here we are) If anything, I'm bending to the wind. I'm surrendering to the immediate, and to the now, and trusting that upon the 4th of October, when I'm four days into what I plan to be a three week vacation, I'll be boarding a train to Montreal to inhabit a studio space for a couple of weeks, and doing what it is that I set out to do a long time ago, and that's take the material that was, and turn it into something new. So for now, all I am going to do is focus on the physical, and prepare myself, and the rest of my group, for what I know will be one wild night in the history of Toronto art.

I can wait for you.

Cleanse

2009-08-02T17:02:00.002-04:00

I'm not fed up or tired or sick of anything at the moment. I'm not, really. More I'm just inspired to do the wild, and it's time that I burn away a little more of the unnecessary, starting with my body. It has to be the body first, really. I need to feel a little hunger for the next few days, and though I wouldn't call it an intentional starvation (cause I know how to do such things without falling apart, but only becoming stronger) I am sure that the idea of wasting away for a few days will be quite compelling. It fits my character, both in the here and now, and in the upcoming narrative (which is now complete) I would head on off to Montreal to start performing, but I'm needed here, and frankly, now is the time to let it simmer, and to make someone I know all the more hotter, and wanting of me. Now is the time to be my natural self, and no longer worried about the 'when' of anything, but simply prepare myself to be ready for what is to come. What matters to me in the here and now, in this month of August, is preparation for September, so all of my actions, whether it's in the people I speak with, or the nature of the dance, has to be all geared towards that, and part of that means letting go of a lot of things I no longer need. I don't require the security of familiar things or individuals to keep me safe and warm. No, what I want right now is a dance floor, a body that feels empty and lean and daring, and expressions of hot desire pouring upon my body day after day. I've got a job in the practical world, and I'll do it, but as it was last year, at this time, it now becomes mere interruption for who and what I truly am. I get it now (I get it at last) So let The Cleanse begin - tonight, in the here and now, it's time to strip away everything that was, and build something new, something wild (something that I know you'll love when you get your hands upon it, since I know you're thinking about it, if you're reading this)

I feel alive.

New Stimuli

2009-07-27T13:34:00.000-04:00

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

2009-07-13T10:55:00.000-04:00

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

2009-07-13T00:07:00.001-04:00

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

2009-07-07T22:20:00.000-04:00

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

2009-07-07T12:35:00.000-04:00

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

2009-07-07T10:55:00.000-04:00

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.

2009-07-07T10:52:00.000-04:00

Madness

2009-06-23T10:47:00.001-04:00

Something within me has snapped, and it feels as if it's about time it has. I always have expressed that the character I've been developing for my show is the man that I am not, but who I wish to be, and I find that the more the narrative has expanded as of late, the more I seem to be bending to the true aspects of my nature, and he is it - he's my being truthful, and the man I don't always show. Perhaps it's a courage thing, where I've bent to certain perceptions of myself, or perhaps it's simply a case of it taking a little bit of time to evolve. Whatever the reason, I don't wish for it to stop, and I have a strong inclination that it is not only going to not stop, but further intensify, and that this summer, more than any other, will absolutely have that long, hot quality to it. I feel it when I'm walking - new motions that require exploration on a dance floor that aren't contemporary, but are definitely primal. That I wouldn't exactly be a contender upon any one of those various dance shows that seem to be in fashion (I'm waiting for the trend to die out, and it eventually will) But that if you wanted soul, and a little bit of medieval daring, I could give it to you over and over again and you'd still want more. My face is changing (or the way I at least look at things with my eyes) I'm staring at everyone pretty in this town, and I don't really care if it's a town afraid of eye contact, because there is the odd individual who looks back, with a smile. The winter rust is now off, because there are no cold days interrupting the soft spring we've had, and suddenly things turned hot. The body feels free, and I don't have issues with being tired or fatigued or sick. I walk in the sun for a living. I live in a pretty town with pretty girls and crazy artists and a forest and a lake, and unique neighbourhoods aplenty, and my job affords me the opportunity to learn how to make people bend to my will - a skill that is being applied to my exploits upon the stage (and frankly, now elsewhere, without inhibition) Truth is, maybe it's not madness. Maybe, quite simply, it's me, being myself.

You can let go now.

2009-06-20T19:00:00.001-04:00

I took a walk not too long ago with a very beautiful woman, and she asked me questions that others have not asked me for a little while (You can tell a lot about someone by the questions they ask, you know, so as women go, she's as impressive as one as I've ever met) Considering the walk was for almost four hours on a brilliantly beautiful day, and it involved everything from the city streets, to the lake, to the forest within the city, we had plenty of time, and a variety of visual stimuli, to talk of a great many things. A point she brought up to me made me think of what's about to happen, not only with my show, but the narrative I put away three years ago (The narrative I put away three years ago, which was resurrected while I was ill) Maddy is part inspiration for returning to it, and the core of it is still rooted in what was, but what was, is in one sense, something I let go of a little while ago. You can still be inspired by a woman, even if you no longer want her (keep in mind that if you asked me to fall into bed with someone who was in my life, I'd probably do it, but that doesn't necessarily mean I was meant, or wanting, to stay) I was also thinking of a girl who called me when she was drunk, about two months ago (one who was still with her boyfriend, the one she left me for) who was wondering if she had missed her opportunity with me, or had messed up our friendship (She could never mess up our friendship, but sitting her now, I believe she had missed her opportunity with me, though you can never tell what the future will bring) The point is, there is no nostalgia for past lovers anymore. It's an odd feeling. I don't want to kiss anyone of my past, and I hardly wish to kiss anyone of the here and now (though you know who you are) One of my workers yesterday expressed that I speak of sex a lot, and there's no doubt that I'm quite a sexual being, but just because one is sexual, doesn't mean one is inclined to sleep with every girl he meets. I'm simply not. I'd rather get to know someone in order to want them, and the reality is that if you disappear out of my life for long stretches of time, I'm going to lose desire for you. It will just fade. Doesn't mean it can't be reignited, or that it isn't necessarily there (You can lose desire, and it can be buried within, but if you know the triggers, you'll spark it again) The girl I took a walk with (who I hope to continue to become great friends with) told me simply 'You should finish the book...' and she's right. You can care about a woman, and find them intensely attractive, and even want them on some level, but you don't necessarily have to fuck them. Truth is also the fact that no one is exactly beating down my door to fuck me at the moment, so there's a perfect symmetry at play. The reality is, whomever I desire at the moment, in specifics, is my personal business. Truth is that I don't want anyone I wanted in the past. Opportunities were missed, and some things will simply not be. But in the here and now, I've got a lot of time, even with work, to not only start performing the show, but finish that piece of work that started everything, with new, fresh inspiration (Yes, Maddy, you are definitely a part of that, so thanks, my beautiful new friend) The work, for now, will have to be my lover, and the truth is, I'd rather finish everything first, and then kiss someone later. I am thinking that my lips should be dry for awhile, and I should remain unsatisfied just a little bit longer, and that it's time to let go of those who tell me that they love me only when they are drunk, or those who turn to me only when their boyfriends are away, or about to leave (or are negligent) or that it is time to let go of those who say 'I can't do this anymore...' or 'but what if he finds out?' Truth is that the fresh air cleaned out my lungs, and I'm breathing quite easily on my own, now. Nostalgia can interfere with the clear thought in present - you keep thinking of the past, and you are doomed to live in it, and on this day, after being sick for seven days, I feel like living, and living, for me, no longer involves waiting, so you can let go now. You are free now of my being your possibility. I believe in you, but I do not want you. Maybe I will later.

But not now.

Maddy pt. 4

2009-06-18T15:54:00.001-04:00

You have a frail heart. This I learned this morning. I seem to have a frail body nowadays, you know. The last six days I've barely been able to move my body, and it's weakened so much, I'd say I feel like an invalid at the moment, and can barely move (It won't last, this I know, and I'll get stronger) You though, you live with something a little more grave, day to day. I am even more amazed at you now than I was yesterday, as to how you can, day after day, do things few people truly can (only a very small percentage of the world can even come close to the things you can do, you know) If we talk about the human heart suffering, then I can only imagine how strong you must be to endure so much damage to your heart, in the literal, but also in the emotional. How your heart has already been broken before any man came along to do so again. How do you do it, Maddy? How do you wake up day after day and put on your best smile and work through your daily ritual of motion and not fall apart? I know I'm an interesting one to ask that question, considering I've had just about every single ailment under the sun and I do the same, but I've lived with a lifetime of disappointment and false starts and potential unrealized (funny that now, all of those things no longer apply, since the hope is now genuine and justified) I've lived with such things and learned to deal with them, and now I'm on the cusp of turning all things around, where all the heartbreak and the pain of the past will transform into such joy, I think what I've had to go through, no matter the level of pain, is nothing compared to the girl running down the street in a strange land, so young, and so afraid, and so helpless. Nothing of what I've had to live with compares with what you've had to deal with, Maddy, and on a day where I'm trying (I'm really trying) to dance, and find my body and my strength again, you are the one who is inspiring, and so heartbreaking at the same time.

I wish I could kiss your chest right now.

Maddy pt. 3

2009-06-17T11:05:00.000-04:00

There is strength in your frailty. I don't know if people understand that the more you thin out, the stronger and the wilder you get. Perhaps everyone has always wanted you to fit into a particular mold, and be a certain kind of dancer, or a certain kind of girl, and it's always been an impression of what someone else has wanted - an artistic director or a father or a lover - yet no one has ever actually asked you what you wished to be, or how you wish to be. It's always imposed, isn't it? That you have to be a specific form, or fit into a particular sized dress or shoes. You have to walk and dance a certain way, and be a certain way, and nothing else will do. You're always one thing to one person, or another thing to another, and yet you never seem to be satisfactory or adequate, even though I've seen you move, and I've seen you dance, and I know you're far too beautiful to be criticized so thoroughly. You're told that you're too depressing, or too much of a bitch, yet all you've ever been is enchanting. All you've ever been, even when you're falling apart, is divinely beautiful. I've rarely been criticized for an incorrect perception - that usually the things that I see (and the things that I see within people) are precise, or pretty close to the truth of things, so I find it quite odd that the world seems to want to come down on you for things you are (or are not) You're as strong of a dancer as there could be, with the potential for so much more beyond what you've ever touched upon, and that's despite a world that seems to have been in your opposition for year upon year. Your legs must be strong, you know, to be able to walk against such a thing, and I wonder what would happen, if all the things and the people that you've had to dealt with the last while would simply be quiet, and let you speak your truth, and this is where I come in, because I know I speak your truth - in words (and soon, in choreography) Perhaps if you are fed up with trying to persuade others to see how you see things, I may just have to continue to speak on your behalf, and eventually, we'll have to take that to a stage somewhere. Perhaps only then, people will understand, that you may actually know what you're doing, and who you are, and how you wish to be.

I get it.

Maddy pt. 2

2009-06-16T14:54:00.000-04:00

There is a moment in your choreography where I have you on a stage, by yourself, draped in linen white cloth, wrapped all around your body (You have such pale white skin that if we were to bathe the stage in soft white light, with a hint of blue, it would almost appear as if you were underwater, I'd think) The cloth would not only be wrapped around your body as if you stepped out of the Roman era, but be falling from your arms, and draped upon the stage, as if you were wearing the largest wedding dress I'd ever seen, and it would be all over the stage. The idea that I've had for you is of a sheathing - of a letting go. Of you in constant motion, ripping away at the fabric, or in a further dynamic motion, trying to free yourself from it. The whole idea behind it is of you letting go, because I'm starting to understand that the most difficult thing for you to do, Maddy, is to let go. It's difficult for you to trust in anyone or anything to have a reason to actually let go of things, and you've held on to them for such a long time, the white fabric wrapped around your body might as well represent chains. You're chained to your memories and to your hurt, and it's the very thing you must wrap yourself in when you sleep at night (I'm amazed that you don't cry yourself to sleep more often, and I don't doubt that you have done so more than a few times the last while) You have had no reason to let go. You've been given no level of trust or no offering without an expectation in return, and you haven't had a taste of selflessness in your mouth ever, it seems like. Men focus so much on kissing you on the mouth (or perhaps one or two may) that they never actually think of giving you something else aside from their sex. You are a dancer who I've seen who has been so weightless so many a time, and yet you are still bound to this earth, and I wonder what you would truly be like if you were free of all of this pain, Maddy. If all great art is rooted in pain, then you have a lifetime of wild, beautiful dance to offer us, but shouldn't the exploration of that pain be from a place of joy? Don't you deserve it, to just not have to deal with so much hell anymore, and just genuinely be able to smile and laugh without thinking about the next thing that will go wrong, or how your body may need fifteen less pounds (You know I think you're beautiful, but I get that feeling) I wonder what kind of dancer you would be, if you were happy. How wild of a form you would have, even in the exploration of the darkest parts of our nature, because I know that like that fabric, you'd leave it all on stage, and not carry it with you, home (And home itself is so much of a hell, I wonder how it is that you sleep at night)

Your choreography is of letting go, you know. We have to find a way to help you let go. That is our challenge.

Maddy

2009-06-16T00:17:00.000-04:00

There's a dancer I know in Toronto, who's far too beautiful, to be in so much pain (Though she would tell you otherwise, perhaps) I remember a girl I knew who when I went to her defense over a guy who was threatening her, and stood up to him, she called me her 'stalwart sentinel' (which still brings a smile to my face every single time I think of her saying that to me, before a kiss) Maddy, I think, is like that. Too tough, though. Too strong. Heartbreakingly so, I would say. Too much of pain in that one, with a heart with an infinite capacity for love, and somehow I think the more bruising it would take, the more she would dare to love, as much as she would dare in dance. I'd show you a photograph of her, but you'd fall in love with her beauty too easily, and I think she'd prefer the anonymity of things, though the reality is, she inspires more ideas for choreography for me to keep up with - that I have so many ideas I have to document, not one single one has become a coherent piece (Though one, finally, is starting to take shape, and I think she's going to love it) Maddy underestimates the way she moves, or the beauty of her body (doesn't every single dancer?) I on the other hand, see one wildly beautiful girl, with so much soul, and so much genuine compassion and feeling and depth and desire, and most of that desire is unrequited. The guys in her life invariably let her down, or can't keep up, or don't match up (and this is all opinion - I'm sure she'll contradict some, if not all of these statements, and that's fine) As a result, she feels so alone. It kills me how alone she is, because it reminds me of who I've been, and what I am afraid of letting myself feel, and that is alone. She reminds me too much of myself, and what I've been, and who I may still be. There is also so much poetry in her longing, it's inspiring. She's one of the few individuals who genuinely inspires me at the moment, and I wanted to tell her that in a public place, because I know people read this blog - the people I know do - so it matters. Because I have every intention of finding a choreography that makes this girl shine, and I wanted to let her know that - that a man can believe in her, and her abilities, and her soul, without expectations. That compassion and feeling from one individual - from a man - is possible, and that I hope she still has faith, and belief in love, and doesn't become jaded like me (as I've been, and I'm trying not to be, really) Tonight, on this night where I got a lot done, the last thing I wish to say of the day, is that it matters.

It matters to me, Maddy.

Dizzy

2009-06-15T14:56:00.000-04:00

It was inevitable that I would become ill, considering the virus that was running around my house while I was in Montreal (I'm still dizzy, and a little vague, but I'll be fine soon enough) If anything, I should be thankful for such an experience, since it did a masterful job of cleaning my body out (just not in the most polite of ways, shall we say?) Either way, though I am still clearing out the cobwebs, I'm ready to have a day where I do a lot of sweating, and a lot of writing. The interesting thing is how a single voice can wake your entire being up, and that voice happened to belong to a girl I hadn't talked to in a long while. I should technically not be dancing, and yet I want to do nothing more, after talking with her, than dance (and I mean really, wildly dance) It's like all those things I've had to put in motion, which I haven't fully had the time to put into motion, even with the sickness, I suddenly can, and will. I wasn't aware just how much the sound of her voice ties into my ambition, but the reality is that it does. Today is a day to continue the physical progression, to continue to learn about this camera and how I can use it for my show, and to transcribe narrative (and fix that damn printer) Today is also a day to feel better, and to understand that so much of what is to come - all of it, in fact - is ultimately in my hands. Anything I want, I can have.

So have it.

I'll be in Montreal again at the end of July, and this time, I'm coming with the entire show.

Pay Attention

2009-06-10T16:16:00.000-04:00

I've noticed that my blog is starting to be read again. I have a friend who also publishes one of these, and we've talked before about the nature of anonymous comments, and how unless you specifically know who the individual is, who is saying something (You'll get hints sometimes) it's as cowardly of a thing as there can be. When I write something, I stick my name and my face to it. I do not hide behind a shadow or a sihoulette, and make random accusations designed to injure because there must be some kind of insecurity, or something lacking in my soul, if I were to do such a thing. Truth is, I'm no saint, but if you're looking for specific evil acts I may have commited, you'll find the number to be at zero. If it were otherwise, I'd be a hell of a lot more private. I'm not private for a reason. Now, if we want to get into a discussion as to the things that go on in my mind, I will only say that if I were to be punished for any imaginings, then the rest of the world would have to get in line, and endure similiar punishment (None of us are saints, and those who claim to be 100 % pure, are truly delusional) If you wish to judge me by actions, I will just say that I don't beat up women in dark alleys, I don't steal purses from old ladies, I don't slip things in someone's drink to take advantage of them at a later hour, I don't lure children into my car with candy and false promises, I don't steal from convienience stores, I don't push old men down the stairs, and I'm certainly not a fan of casual brutality. If you wish to know the one true sin I've commited in action, it would be the beating up of boyfriends who are assholes to the women that I love, and I've done that twice in my life, and to be frank, I'm not afraid of doing it a third or a fourth or a fifth time. So, pay attention for a moment - if you have an issue with me, have the stones to say who you are, and be specific in your accusations, otherwise, calm yourself down, take a look in the mirror, and figure out for me why you're such a coward, and a fool. Or create one of these, and write your own damn narratives, if you're capable of forming a sentence.

Now, back to our normal writing.

Last Night

2009-06-08T00:00:00.000-04:00

It just turned midnight. It's my last sleep in Montreal, and my body is starting to feel the lack of proper rest, so I gather I should be happy to be returning to Toronto (I so am, actually) At the same time, I'm sad to leave here. The last two nights at le cagibi for writing have been fantastic (and unexpected surprises have happened along the way) I wish I could steal that stretch of land on st. viateur from Parc to St. Laurent and bring it back to Toronto - le cagibi, st. viateur bagels, the cafes and bars and people hanging out on the street, but especially le cagibi, because it's the first place since Tequila Bookworm where I felt at ease somewhere else, to write (I swear, I may just commute back in by train just to spend time there) I never saw so much of this city on foot in such a short period of time, and somehow, aside from the evening that I pulled into town, there wasn't a single drop of rain, and the temperature was always around twenty degrees celsius, and lovely. I needed these days away more that I could possibly imagine, and though I truly am sad to leave, I'm excited by the fact that officially, summer has yet to begin, and two weeks into summer, I will be back here, and this time, I'll be armed with the full narrative to perform, and this taste of Montreal only compels me to work harder. After I picked up bagels for my co-workers at st. viateur, I walked back down Parc, turned off on laurier, and then on to st. urbain, and walked the stretch down to mont-royal, and that stretch of st. urbain allowed me to see my very first apartment. It was perfect symmetry for the evening, and I realized that I love both my native city, and this one, far too much to let go of either. So if there's a way, I'm going to buy property here still, but not necessarily live in it all the time. All I need is an empty studio to retreat to, that I can call my own, somewhere here by st. denis and duluth, or further up on the mile end, where I spent most of my time in town. It's not an impossible idea, and when I do what I'm capable of as an artist, a lot of doors that are still closed at the moment, are going to be kicked open. I realize this now, and what's at stake, and if anything, I want to get on that train and get back to Toronto, and get back to work. I'll miss this town while I'm gone, and words cannot express fully how special and meaningful this week was to me, and how in the scheme of my life to come, how this week was a turning point. Summertime here is far too lovely, and I'll be back twice more before September, so this is a temporary goodbye, Montreal. You got even more lovely while I was gone, and something tells me that when I return, you'll be hotter than ever.

To Toronto we go.

3964 rue st. denis

2009-06-06T10:05:00.000-04:00

I arrived in the evening of the 1st, and I'm still here at the moment (I will be until the afternoon of the 8th) Yesterday was lovely. I performed the first third of the narrative for a couple of critics and choreographers/writers I know (it's a professional relationship - they weren't there to pat me on the back but to give me a good set of honest eyes as to how I'm doing) My opinion of my work is shared by those who saw me yesterday - that I do have something strong on my hands, and after that moment, there was a further urgency to things, of getting this done, and returning here to perform soon (I mean very soon, as in the beginning of July) Yesterday saw a strong performance, the best writing I have done in over a year, and the most walking I've done in a much longer time (I swear, I saw the entire city on foot) It was all on no sleep - I was too wired the night before, and didn't rest until 5:00 am (and woke again at 7:00 am) It was a good day. Today it's a lot more exploration, and a lot more writing, as I saw the weather forecast and tomorrow it's set to rain once more (and chances are, I'll be wanting to stay in to finish up a lot of the writing that I've done, until the evening when I have a necessary appointment with someone)

I know for a fact that you are reading this, Maia. Time does some wonderful tricks to a relationship, and my time in this city, for now, is limited, as the last few hours I have had left are now being occupied with others, and with other things. I am quite fine with that because I'm coming back, and it won't take nine months, but only one. And when I return I already know the space that I will be renting out to perform in. I will be planting my ass in one single place and will be easily found. The last two late nights I've sat outside my apartment in the heart of this city, and simply wrote (and will probably do that again sometime today and tonight) There's a thought I've had in my head that you'd be around to spy on me (which is quite an entertaining notion, and ties in to what I wish to say to you now) Today it will only be for a cup of coffee and for a little idle writing, as there genuinely is so much more to do in the last two full days I am here. I am saying all this because it's alright that once again, I passed through town and you were elsewhere. I don't mind it whatsoever because what I'm bringing back in July, is the most impressive thing I've ever done, and I like the idea that the potential exists for you to see me at my best. You should know that time and space and silence can create a mythology, and that if you truly wish to see me from a distance, you may wish to be here in July for my return. You may wish to come to my show and see for yourself what it is that I do. I am quite fine with silence still, because though I truly love my own city of Toronto, yesterday was the best day I had in Montreal in a long time, and it convinced me to build that bridge between the two cities, so don't fear the silence. There is no opportunity lost. Hell, if you just told me to come into town for coffee for one day, I'd get on the train and see you five hours later for coffee, and it will be money well spent. As far as I am concerned now, I live in both cities, and I commute into Montreal for work, and for pleasure (and you are still the most divine of pleasures, my friend) So, even though I leave on Monday, early afternoon, I can be back in a day, a week (and will most definitely be returning in July) So, no such thing now, as opportunity lost, cause I'm always going to be in this town, now.

Speaking of this town, it's 10:30 am, and I've got a sweat to work in, a cat in the alley to find, and a city to further explore (with writing in hand) If you see a man making eye contact with you, that's me.

Montreal - Day 1.

2009-06-03T12:03:00.000-04:00

One of the things I forgot about Montreal, is how the sun sets directly down st. laurent, when you're walking north up to st. viateur (as I was last night) It's a pleasure to be blinded, and to find yourself writing on the couch at le cagibi, and remember what it is like to actually have time, where you're not continually asking the same question of others (as I have been) 'Would you like to do that...?' will turn into something fresher, no doubt, when I return to Toronto (but forget Toronto for one moment) I accidentally charmed a girl last night at the American Apparel across the street from me, so I'm sure we'll be having tea and conversation the next couple of days, and what I've noticed is that the girls in Montreal tend to lock into eye contact more often (Or perhaps I simply look more interesting here, than there) There's a lot of bad sex happening above my head, which confirms the rumour that Montreal men are sorely lacking in stamina or imagination (I've heard far too many stories for me to think otherwise, and the two five minute sessions above me aren't about to persuade me to change my mind upon the theory, eh?) I sweat very well in this apartment, thank you very much, and that helps a great deal (staying up as late as I did last night, probably does not, but I'll sleep just fine tonight, I'm sure) This, being the 2nd full day in Montreal, the next order of business is continuing to expand upon the narrative, hopefully see a few old friends, stop on by the P.O. offices and say hello to Matilde and Marie, and see if a particular girl is available for some more tea and conversation later on in the week (though she should know that I'm patient, still, and that this will now be a monthly ritual of being here) There's also further exploration to be done, and I need to figure out how to work this camera, cause I saw way too many beautiful things to not capture last night (Fortunately, there will be more tonight, I'm sure) So on to day two, and we'll see if today has the charm and the grace, of yesterday.

Maia

2009-05-28T09:52:00.000-04:00

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.

2009-05-25T09:34:00.000-04:00

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.

2009-05-09T13:20:00.000-04:00

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.

So where have you been (and where are you going?)

2009-04-18T15:54:00.000-04:00

I loved my silence. So many things I have done the last while (and so much more to do) The show is ready, the body is stronger than it's ever been, and the heart is ready. I am intentionally delaying things now until my trip to Montreal in the second week of May (There are things in that city I require attending to, and I don't mind the exercising of patience considering the other pleasant aspects to life at the moment) I'm toying with my camera but I'm waiting until I get to Montreal to truly photograph things for this show (which is now entitled 'Arrogant Little Fuck...') So much of my show is tied to there, I realized, so that it only makes sense to use the trip partially as a way of documentation for my activities in Toronto and Montreal all summer with this narrative. It changed a lot in the silence, and maybe that's because I did in the time in between entries. You've got to wait a long while sometimes for certain narratives to evolve, whether it is in actual text, or in performance, or just in the human heart (I had a transition in the latter, and it affected the former two) I'm looking so forward to Montreal, and the fact that I've finally accepted the promotion at home for my job (it was inevitable - I love my part-time job, but I need a challenge with it to keep it fresh) means my finances, unless something unexpected occurs, will be in order (so no bus for me - I'm taking the train, and I'm going to rent myself someplace nice in Montreal to stay in for a few days) There are more than a few people I wish to see on my first journey into Montreal this summer (trust, it won't be the last - I'll be coming back to perform a few times) but more, it's a reward for surviving winter, for finding my dance again, and for the strength that I've shown through everything that I've been through, to come to this place where every aspect of me is glowing again. I'm not a fan of unnecessary self-critical behaviour, because it's the worst kind of abuse because you are ultimately in control of it, even with environmental circumstances, be it the people or surroundings that you have to deal with day upon day. Now I'm not saying I was far too hard on myself at all, but what I am saying is that whatever faults I may have picked upon, I suddenly see no reason to be so evil towards the self, cause frankly, I look and I feel far too good to indulge in such an exercise. So here we are, on a day when it's downright hot in Toronto, about to attend to another session of dance, and then a few more pleasant errands outside, before I return, write a few people letters of 'Hello...' and go for one more spin on the dance floor.

I think, though, I will reward myself next weekend, and indulge in a little photographic narcissism (Trust, I've got better since you've last seen me...)

Slow It Down

2009-03-24T16:50:00.000-04:00

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?

2009-03-16T20:16:00.000-04:00

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

2009-03-10T00:21:00.000-04:00

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

2009-03-02T21:42:00.000-05:00

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)

Fusing Narratives

2009-02-25T09:35:00.000-05:00

I've been tempted to delete those last two entries, but I'll leave them there. Whatever intense (and somewhat necessary) selfishness has passed. I think that kid stomping up and down going 'What's in it for me?' has decided to be quiet. As I was expressing to someone in my life late last night, I trust the circumstances evolving in my life (or at least, I really should) So you may hear less of the angry young man and a little more of the calm, assured, and meditative (at least I truly hope so) It's early in the morning and I am returning back to work today. I will be going door-to-door once again (getting into many adventures, no doubt - being in Roncesvalles for the next couple of weeks should be quite a treat, I hope) I remember working that particular neighbourhood for ACT (AIDS Committee of Toronto) and the community response was marvelous (so I hope it is for this campaign, fingers crossed) It will be quite interesting to see if I can now balance work with what is to come, so I'm looking forward to returning. I see the sun shining and god I wish it was hot, really. You have no idea how weary these bones feel at wintertime, and the fact that in the last nineteen days I got into this kind of shape with the cobwebs hanging upon me is a great thing. Greater things though, lie ahead. I have to do a better job of keeping that in mind over the next month, and I'm glad that I've decided to wait just a little longer to perform (Hey, trust, this body needs springtime) As the narrative of work and art will fuse, so is the actual narrative itself, between word and body, and stanzas are starting to collapse, and this is really just a 'fade in, fade out...' show now. I am glad it is, really. I am glad I found a way to end things. Hell I'm glad that in this economy, I actually have a great job for the now, and that if this studio is to be built in Toronto, I get to walk around for the next couple of weeks, in the neighbourhood in which I think it will end up (There is a wild street here with a lot of potential, and I think after work I'll go take another walk to see it) Anyways, the day is ahead, so this entry is at a conclusion.

Time to get to work, anyways.

If Words Aren't Enough...

2009-02-21T20:21:00.000-05:00

I've calmed down in the last few days? (That would be a colossal lie) I would say more that it is important to approach certain matters with a little rational behaviour. I can break silence because photography has started (Though I think I'll wait for a bit of time to post what is evolving, because it is turning into it's own narrative) Looking the part has now become even more crucial, which is why I've backed the starting date to the beginning of April (for other reasons as well, mind you) Isabelle and I will get together in a few days to figure out the show, as will I visit Samantha (I know a lot of individuals named Samantha, you know) to sort out when her event will take place. Brutal physical behaviour does a few things to a man. So does bleeding. So does a lot of longing.

On a random aside, and something I won't make common knowledge, save to the people who read this blog (and my boss) my skin cancer has returned to my legs, so this week a determination will be made as to how to deal with this, and to make sure there is nothing else wrong (I have faith there is nothing else wrong, so I'm not worried) I was looking at my legs and how fucked up they truly look right now, understanding that treatment will only make them worse (to the point where I am thinking I should wear those scars during the show, rather than cover them up)

Wear those scars. Vulnerability (That word again) That word has complicated things, and altered narrative. That and understanding that my words are not enough. They are not. They are powerful, and I love singing them, and they are not enough, so yes, I've pushed my show back because I need to adapt to the immediacy of the circumstances.

I am starting to think I attract passive lovers. You know, one of the things I'm quite good at (and proud of such a distinction I am) is that I truly have the stamina to endure any kind of fucking. And that I can do things with my mouth besides the obvious that few men truly can do (I am going to start believing it, because it's been said to me several times in twelve months, so excuse me for the momentary arrogance - I believe it now) One of those things is talk. I talk and I give and I talk and I give and you lie back and you take it ('You' being the collective wealth of women I've known in the last year) You remind me of a dancer I once knew, who's bed was more a performance stage where she would simply undress, lie back, and take waves of pleasure for hours and for days and when it came time to give, she failed at it (and trust, I'm not the hardest man to give pleasure to) I am inspiring, and I've made you come several times one way or another over days or weeks or months, and I am still waiting. Waiting (Do I have the tone of voice of a man who is pleased with waiting?)

I can wait. Give me something to tide me over and I can wait. Otherwise I am starting to feel uninspired to make the effort (and that is not specific to anyone - that is as general of a statement as there can be)

You know, it's still happening, even before touch. I give and I give and it's now expected. It's the norm. You want, and you desire, but the understanding has to be that in order for me to believe in desire, I require something more than 'wow...'

If words are not enough in my life, why would I assume they would be enough in narrative? (And so, that understanding changes everything) Why would I assume that a show based in longing and want that uses words is enough to speak to what I feel?

It isn't.

So that will change a few things. You'll get me in the bed. You will have your 'A Love Supreme...' You will have your song, and your longing, and your desire (but to say the least, changes to the narrative are taking place, as profound to the changes of my body, and of my heart)

Do not expect me, though, to be a selfless man anymore. I'm tired of it. I will give and I will give and give again.

You meet me halfway.

(That's the deal)

Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want...

2009-02-18T00:27:00.000-05:00

Fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck.

That's it. Enough words. There will be no more entries until I show, because telling is an art I should save for my show, at this point.

Expect photos. I'm building the fucking set tonight, at 1:00 am, and I'll shoot this in a few days. Black and White (since the reality is, desire is strictly black and white)

Consider me a mute until then.

The Key Outside My Door

2009-02-16T19:32:00.000-05:00

In Montreal, sometime in the spring, I will have a studio space for a month, to perform and live in. I am going to leave a key outside of my door, hanging there for someone (You should be aware by now who you are, though I know so many individuals who will be close to me, in geography, who are close to me in other ways, so I wonder if it is clear who you are, and who you are not) I will say nothing, but I will give you my address. You will know where I am, but I will not know where you are, or if you will come on over, but I know there is a part of you that is tempted to do so, because you love at least the notion, or the possibility of this man, and the touch, and the wild that would come with bending (Are we really such an unspoken thing?) It's a simple key, and when you open the door you will find a bed, and large windows - a spartan surroundings made for only two things (and I will be doing one of those things, hoping and wishing you would come on over for the other) Is it really a surprise, love? Is it really such a difficult contemplation to just wonder about the possibility of, or to contemplate something beyond the simple words of desire, and have something sweeter to the taste (You really do know that I've thought about what you and I would be like, in my bed, and I know such a possibility has even crossed your mind, now and then, so does an entry in a blog really require graphic details? You know them by heart and body by now) So I will make it simple. I will take my space, and perform in it, and in the other days I will spend either in dance, or in the preparation of what is ahead. So that wherever you are in the city, on any day, if you suddenly find yourself wanting your man (and you are well aware, that ultimately, I have always been your man) you should get up from wherever you are, and come on over, and have me. Have me (Not so hard of a thing to do, really) Your key will be outside of my door, and I know you will be tempted (and that will be plenty satisfaction, to know that you are)

That is the only thing on my mind tonight.

Wintry Rust

2009-02-15T20:42:00.000-05:00

Out of all of the individuals reading this blog (and do tell why I've had a significant upswing in how many people are reading this, yet none of you are saying hello...) I've probably spent the most time outside, out of all of us (I don't think that is an exaggeration - three days a week in winter working as a door-to-door fundraiser in all kinds of weather allows me to take that statement, I think) You see all those snowstorms and wind chills in Toronto? I've worked in every single one of them, without fail (it would take a severe weather day, specifically a wind chill of minus thirty degrees celsius, for us to call a shift) I've been cold all winter, and my body took a lot of punishment during this season (this season which is soon to pass) In New York, upon the day I arrived, it was fourteen degrees celsius, and it truly was a helpful thing, for I returned to this city in sunshine, and I realized that the tone in the air had changed (Yes, tone is something that isn't measured by the weather network, though it should be) The sun was shining, and there was blue sky (and rarely when I was outside did I see blue sky, in this season of winter) But it was more the way my body felt, and this assurance that no matter the snow or the chills to come, we are now officially in upswing - there is a lot more daylight, and we are no longer marching towards a long cold winter, but to a warm, promising springtime. Everyone talks about it on some level or another, and poets write of it, and singers compose songs, so I won't indulge in such a narrative about new beginnings, and all of the auxiliary cliches that come with it. No, I'll just say that the wintry rust I had is shaking off, and my body is suddenly in rapid evolution, and my stamina is increasing (I am no longer simply preparing for a show, but other things of a more violent, and artistic nature) I noticed my clothes are starting to fit the way I wish them to, and my body language is far more expressive, because I am no longer shivering, or simply focusing upon surviving winter (and trust, being outside so much can bury you long into springtime if you're not careful) I don't exactly feel like a corpse, though, and though I'm tempted to turn on that new camera of mine and shoot these publicity photographs for my show tonight, I'll wait a few more days, because in a few more days I will be a lot more delicious, in narrative and body. Tariq in New York, upon viewing a workshop/stop and start/rehearsal of my show, said to me simply 'This is your 'A Love Supreme' (which was as good of a compliment as the 'That was like watching Henry Miller on a bed' comment of the past) It's true, my show structure has evolved, and I've stripped a lot of it away (A very good sign when you have great material, and choose not to use it, because it simply does not fit - those narratives will be performed another time) The narrative is now in four sections - three principal narratives (the middle 'Sam' compelling me to memorize thousands of words in staccato order while maintaining the wild in the physical - good luck with that one, buddy) and a coda of song. It's a shorter work, but the 35-40 minutes I am in that bed, will feel a lot longer, to myself, and to the audience. New York was amazing because it not only reset my body, but it made me appreciate the urgency to get back here as soon as I could, and take the meditation to a higher level (which, today, I truly have, and will continue to do so) I can't wait to get back to my practical job now, upon the 25th, because unlike before, we will be rapidly approaching springtime, and I won't have to worry about surviving winter, but preparing for spring, the narrative (and you, even)

The rust, quite simply, is gone.

Howling

2009-02-12T10:30:00.000-05:00

It's nice to not be in Toronto again (though I do love the city, so this isn't a lament to be elsewhere) New York has it's charms, but I'm not in the mood to do a 'so today I went down to Nuyorica and met a few poets and visited the grave of Reverend Pedro Pietri...' I'm not exactly on a rooftop channeling Pinero, but I can testify that this body is sore from a wild day of physicality last night (and it was in Brooklyn!) At the moment, it's a friend's laptop in The Bronx, and it is my full intention to savour this full day elsewhere by indulging in more dancing (both in and outside) I may return Friday to Toronto, or it could be Saturday (an unexpected road trip to accompany a friend visiting family compelled me here) I was told by a beautiful girl that my imagination is my achilles heel not too long ago, and she is right - an ex-girlfriend, when we broke up, called me not just a dreamer, but 'The dreamer...' In the past I've tended to dream and imagine potentials and possibilities so far and wide, and have had so many bold illusions, it's caused me to divert from paths unnecessarily, and where there should have been tangible results, and historical documentation, all that have been in my hands, and my mouth, is sawdust. Accomplishments have been temporary, or fleeting (just like lovers) But sitting here today, looking back at my favourite country on the planet, I realize that for once, instead of a kiss that would taste like ash, I have a feeling this time it will be warm saliva (and will be followed by so much more sweetness) So while I am in New York City, for at least one more full day, remind me that even though it feels like a vacation, it's still a working vacation, and the intention of today is to have an even wilder, and more of a sore body, than I did yesterday (and to close the night in the company of new friends)

There's a paycheque waiting for me in the office at the corner of College and Augusta, right outside Kensington Market (lovely that I come back from vacation, and I now officially have the funds for Paris)

Four

2009-02-10T20:53:00.000-05:00

Increasingly immoral (or amoral?) Violently sexual, indulging in all kinds of perversions, laughing at authority, body rounding into form (and only a few days into the break, so contemplate how he will be on the 25th?) Making a few wild vows that he never thought would come out of his mouth (and laughing at how easy it will be to surrender to every single one of them, such great rewards they do offer, though) Words are becoming less necessary as a means of expression, physicality is becoming more prounounced (There are hints of something more on the horizon) Space still requires evolving, and there are cosmetic matters to attend to (but he's attending to them just fine) Circling a few days upon the calendar far from now (but they are etched in proverbial stone - why wouldn't he, after all?) Though his feet are a little sore, and some muscles that haven't been used in awhile are aching, he knows that the soreness will soon pass, and more of the wild that he is finding will only intensify (and everything will simply get better - from how he uses words, to how he kisses you on the mouth, to how he fucks, to how he dances) He's happy he took time off, and he's laughing at what has already happened in the days he's given himself, but now he feels like there is still another level to find (there is always something higher) but especially in the next two weeks. So he's figuring out what is next upon day four, but is enjoying the vanity of the now, and wishes more than anything at this particular moment in time, in between spasms of wild dancing, to have his lips firmly pressed on someone's sex for a long while (or a mouth open, for that matter) because frankly, the way we all say hello is just too passe (and this seems like a more delightfully way to make a greeting) He's turning into the unapologetic character he created upon the bed, in narrative (and realizes that the point was not to be that man, but to exceed anything he has ever been) So the reality is, he has no idea, how this particular story ends.

Plus, he is simply thirsty (and pardon the obvious) but he wants to drink from your body, long, and deeply, until you are dry, lover.

'C...'

2009-02-09T21:45:00.001-05:00

Upheaval. Everything is now upside down, wildly. I'm still breathless from the dancing I just did (never like that - what was that?) And you are the cause, love. This is no ordinary kind of desire, now, and I freely admit and surrender to the violent, and understand that the particulars of what I spoke of earlier are no longer required. There is no publicity outreach, but lower-frequency madness, with hints and rumours, and a man named Ram ('and did you hear about what he did...?') There is photography, but only at angles, and in shadow, and with the corresponding word. So in this time off from the practical, things have been simplified (as have desires, to be frank) All I want and need to do is the kind of dancing that I have done today - all of the physicality and more, and then simply trust that I will be ready when the moment comes.

I'm still shaking. I am still wanting you.

Day One

2009-02-07T13:03:00.000-05:00

It's a little before I start my first session of training of the day. I'm on an eighteen-day leave of absence from the practical job. The thaw is on outside, and though we've all been beaten up by winter, I find myself wishing to return the favour, and return to how I was (and so much beyond it) in summertime. In this eighteen day period I will put myself in performance-ready shape (Trust, there's a difference between being in great shape, and being in shape enough to do one's job, perform wildly and maintain such a discipline where you are not standing still, but still improving) I will make sure all the words and actions are memorized, take the publicity photos and prepare the press releases, begin a thorough outreach (which will continue beyond this eighteen day period) for the show. I'll set up gigs, prepare the programs and the flyers AND in the middle of all this intense training, I'm going to reward myself for surviving the winter outside (That's right, I'm going shopping - I'm going to single-handedly stimulate this economy myself) The only reason to go out will be to go out dancing (be it in studio with others, or out to a show) so the reality is, I'm going to entomb myself, repair, rebuild, and upon the 25th of February, when I return to work, soon after, this show will be performed (and I will not stop performing for awhile) I'm still a little under the weather, so I'm dealing with a bronchial infection now, but it won't be so much of an issue soon, so these new disciplines in training that are calling to me today, I can handle. It's going to be a hard and brutal day one, but it is still forward motion, and that simply, is all that matters. Forward motion. Ahead. Springtime.

Laura

2009-02-03T11:01:00.000-05:00

While doing my day job a couple of months ago in The Annex, I knocked upon a door, and met this charming man, who later turned out to be someone pivotal in my life, who I had only known in rumour, from the girl you see in the photograph. When I was signing him up to a donation, and asked him for his name, I said to him 'The _______ ______?' in reference to his name. We had a good laugh when we found out who each other was, and he would later tell me to forgive myself for what had happened, and it was one of the few times I've ever been soothed by another man (I'm sitting here with an MP3 Cd of Jazz/Funk that is a gift for him, which we will listen to next week together, while having a drink, my new friend and I) The beautiful girl that you see in the photograph is Laura, ex of The National Ballet of Canada. Laura is like Sam - a subject of my touring narrative - a stanza that is quite different than Sam. Sam is an act of pure pleasure, and a wink and a laugh, and a caress and a sigh. 'Laura' is a piece of longing, and a piece of wanting, and a piece of torture. It is a narrative pulled from the unpublished book I was working on three years ago (was it even longer than that?) 'Laura' is the surviving piece from that narrative, sitting in a box somewhere, unpublished (even though I had one publisher willing to do so) I will, in all likelihood, never pull it out of that box (some things are simply not meant) 'Laura' is a wild piece, and I wouldn't have been able to perform it even a year ago, because the wound felt fresh. It still felt fresh until the day I went to a certain cafe and met a beautiful girl who would serve me coffee (who I would dance with later) and it still felt fresh until I knocked on a door after meeting the girl, and met the aforementioned charming man, who again, gave me the gift of forgiveness. I still miss this girl so much, you know. I only think of the day standing in the old Tequila Bookworm, where it was only myself, and Owen, and a couple of random irregulars sitting at the back couches in the cafe, where she walked in, in her red boots and blue coat, and said to me, very early in our friendship 'I was hoping I would find you here...' The possibility exists that word will get out (I am not doing this show so it'll be small and forgotten, so trust, the word will get out) and she will hear of what exactly it is that I perform. I don't know how she'll take it, but I really don't care, because I have to do it - at the heart of this narrative, I know it all started with her. Longing may pass after years, as will regret, but all great jazz has a tinge of melancholy, and this girl, is mine, my own, my wistful, my lament.

But god I'm grateful for her.

Unapologetic

2009-02-02T11:16:00.000-05:00

I was speaking with one of the followers of my blog last night, about being a 'whore' and an unapologetic one at that, because I'm happy. I won't lie, that I desire several women, and it's not ego to say there are possibilities because affections and desire is being returned, and I hide nothing from anyone when it comes to who's mouth I've kissed the last while (or elsewhere, for that matter) I want every woman who's part of my show, for example (well, except for one) I've said time and again that I'm not in the mood anytime soon for a commited relationship (I have too many examples of failures when it comes to such things from other people, or women in these relationships saying things to me like 'sometimes I just wish I was free...') Sometimes? Is the desire to be free not a sign of your true nature, and are you simply not ignoring it? This is me - I want many, and it is not to say that I'll randomly go pick up some stranger somewhere, and have one beautiful night with them, and let it go. Don't mistake my nature as someone who just fucks around, because I don't. I want a strong connection with whomever I fall into bed with, and I've found myself in the beds not of random strangers the last while, but of good friends (good friends, who are actually better friends now) I'm not sleeping around but I have had sex with people the last year who know me very well, who like me, prefer to be unattached. Even if I wanted a relationship, I simply do not have the time to properly pay attention to it, so for me, why would I do that to another woman? My life is full of women who's men do not pay the proper attention to them (trust, if I'm not dancing, or fucking, I'm listening to various horror stories about it) I simply desire a lot, and it's in my nature, and I'm glad I'm not hiding from my own true nature - it's taken a great weight off of my shoulders, and I am truly free to pursue that which I desire, be it in art, or in sex (and you wonder why I'm smiling all the time, ha)

I still have a fever, and my voice is gone for the moment, but today is still a day for the wild (and the last week of work I will have until the end of February)

I am not performing this show merely for the art, but for the invitation for anyone to fall into that bed with me (There is plenty of room for you)

Sam

2009-02-01T13:31:00.000-05:00

'Sam' is the stanza of this show I may have the most fun in, admittedly. The last few days, I've heard things from her about someone - a former friend of hers (or perhaps current, but soon to be former) which have been quite cruel, and unfair (and when I get to Montreal, if I see this particular man, I'll make sure I let him know of my displeasure with his ill behaviour) This man doubts her desire, and will to live, and the things she will choose to do, but I do not at all. His words have been the words of a small man, who to me, sounds like the kind of man who once he does not get what he wants, resorts to pathetic insults, and unjustified begging in the subtext (I'm a fan of blatant begging while naked in a bed with someone - it's the only appropriate place for such behaviour, eh?) I don't really think this man knows Sam, and knowing her as I do, I could not help but have her be the topic of one of the stanzas of this show. This particular stanza, I will only say, pays tribute to the nature of our connection (You don't expect me to give away the specifics of my show in a blogspot entry now, do you?) It's done with a laugh, and channels one of the scenes of a favourite movie of mine (think David Lynch, and I'm not telling you the film) but with a different spin, shall we say (If this scene went in another direction, this would be the result) I may never laugh so much on a stage as this point, nor will you ever see such a blatant expression of desire in any kind of performance, in such a wild setting. I've already told her that there is a clear purpose to why I'm doing this particular narrative, and she knows, at the core, the reason for it. The girl in the photograph is complimented widely, and is wanted by many, without a doubt. I've stopped concerning myself, though, with things like want, and would just rather express a different style of wanting (and one that is so bold, I know she'll love it, because I know her) The girl is my friend, and she opens up to me, and leans on me, which I absolutely appreciate, and though I don't know if we're going out for tea after my many performances in Montreal, I have this sneaky suspicion that the first day this narrative is performed in Montreal (and trust, there will be a few performances in my OWN bedroom) she'll be sitting on a pillow at the foot of a bed, watching what she's done to this particular man. I don't know if she'll stay after the audience disappears, and truly, I don't really know if it matters if she does, because the performing of this stanza, if it as gratifying of an act as I have experienced during rehearsal, may have been one of the greatest gifts this man has ever been given, and I hope she is aware of that, and contrasts it against the words of the other man, this week. That is your effect, Samantha. Not cruelty, but desire, and you are one of the four I speak of (and the most honest expression of desire you'll ever see)

Thanks, darling.

The Show

2009-02-01T13:18:00.000-05:00

I've got a slight cold, but enough time to write for a moment, before attending to the first of three training sessions today. I've been asked several times in the last week or so as to the nature of my show (apparently I haven't explained it enough, so I'll attend to it one more time) The narrative is a series of physical monologues, all based upon a bed. The topic is unrequited desire - things that either were, and did not fully come to pass (or things that have not been, or have not been just yet) I felt that since the pieces were of such an intimate nature, rather than stage them in a conventional setting, like a theatre, I felt it was a better idea if I staged it in the bedrooms of the world (which apparently, considering the recent response, is quite a good idea) It's not dance, but theatre, but very physical theatre - the 'choreography' is mostly improvised - the text is the thing, and the body will naturally follow (and I trust myself now as a performer, more than I ever have) I've been able to set up these performances without doing proper publicity, simply because with work, I've had no time. This week, though, is the last full week of work I have for three weeks, and in that three week period, all the publicity will be done, the photoshoots will occur, the press releases will be sent out, and the outreach is going forward, fully. In that time as well, I have the time to commit all text to memory, and prepare the body properly after a long winter, for what is to come in springtime.

This show is not fiction, though the character is the man I aspire to be. The subjects are quite real, and every narrative stanza, is either about a girl I know, or who I have known.

This blog is starting to be read a lot more, I just realized, so I am going to take the time now, to stop talking about myself the next few days, and talk about the women who've inspired it, and each stanza (and this will be the only other space I really speak of it, aside from the stage)

So with that...

Bedlam

2009-01-29T14:04:00.000-05:00

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.

2009-01-27T10:31:00.000-05:00

Training

2009-01-27T10:18:00.000-05:00

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.

2009-01-27T10:00:00.000-05:00

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

2009-01-24T21:44:00.000-05:00

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

2009-01-22T09:51:00.000-05:00

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...

2009-01-20T17:40:00.000-05:00

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

2009-01-20T10:34:00.000-05:00

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

2009-01-18T15:11:00.000-05:00

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

2009-01-17T22:01:00.001-05:00

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

2009-01-12T22:48:00.000-05:00

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.

2009-01-11T16:28:00.001-05:00

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.

2009-01-11T16:26:00.001-05:00

Draw This.

I'm Not Satisfied...

2009-01-09T11:53:00.000-05:00

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...

2009-01-06T20:20:00.000-05:00

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?

2009-01-05T21:04:00.000-05:00

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...

2009-01-02T10:29:00.000-05:00

...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.

On The Last Day Of The Year...

2008-12-31T11:05:00.000-05:00

I took an inventory of all the things I'll be doing on the last day of the year (shovelling the driveway has already been taken care of) I realized that today, after the first session of dance, it's time to spend a little money on myself for a job well done (not finished, mind you, but this definitely was a good year) I am going to go buy myself a spectacular camera, because I can afford it, and I think it's time I started capturing my narrative in images building up to my show (and I have an underutilized talent for photography, and I think it's time to make a major investment in myself) I'm also going to stop on over to my favourite clothing store and buy myself some sexy dancewear and this red shirt I've wanted, because red is the colour of blood (blood is primary, after all) and of passion, and I feel like wearing a little red tonight, when I go out dancing (I also have a go-go gig on the side tonight later on, so hopefully I don't freeze in my booty shorts) I look really good - quite healthy, actually (so I think to set the tone appropriately for the New Year, it's necessary to take a few of those clothes off, I say) I'm going to go have tea somewhere and do some more writing, and go see a dance partner off before her vacation (I'm looking forward to seeing her again upon her return, and really working) On the last day of the year, I'm going to go for a long walk through the city, even on this insanely cold day, because I've spent the last three months walking outside for my job, but always having to stop at every door (Today is a good day to just not stop, eh?) I'm going to acknowledge that I intensely lust and want for several individuals, and at the same time I'm going to let them go. Not permanently - not at all. Just for now, because I'm an artist, and this artist has work to do, and is truly tired of being an obvious choice that is not taken. The New Year is about New Ways, and the New Way is this work, and explorations of my many other untapped talents. No more wasting time, and though this sounds like a resolution, I am rather in the mood to be resolved to just do this show, and let the rest attend to itself.

So on to the day, and the New Year, we go.

A Word

2008-12-30T10:23:00.000-05:00

I'll have to make this quick since my presence has been requested at the CBC for something (a very unexpected something, I might add) I finally got a little rest, and it definitely helps. Today will be a busy day, and I know what it is that I will be doing for New Year's Eve (as always, it'll involve something uniquely entertaining - I hope I don't freeze, truth) If you ask me how I feel I'd say that I'm still waiting for someone to open their mouth (I'm quite a good listener, you know) What I also do know is that even though I use the word 'waiting,' I do not feel as if I am rooted in one place going 'Yes? And?' I may be a little pissed at one of my dance partners at the moment (I forgave her for her interference in this matter late last night, so we're good) All I know is that it's better to say something than to stay muted, because the longer silence goes, the more foolish it will seem when one's mouth opens up, because the reality is that it's better to express what the heart feels in word and body, than to not say a thing at all. The world is full of people who truly do not speak from their heart, and though this planet is full of beauty everywhere, it's still untapped potential, and repressed, and holding back. If I think of the muse of stanza #2 (That's you, Sam) something tells me that under the right circumstance, there is absolutely no restraint. All that is ever required for bedlam is a word or two, and whether it be a 'Yes...' or a no, though it could be bitter or sweet, all that really is required, is a simple word. Say something? I'll listen. I'll even understand (You know, I'm quite good at that, as well)

I should go. Busy day ahead. With the stripping down of this narrative I've never been so excited over anything I've ever created, so it's off to this 'conversation' at the mother corporation, and then back to work.

Structure

2008-12-29T09:12:00.000-05:00

I think I am awake far too early (but there is so much to do today, I don't think I could lie in bed for long, really) I honestly don't know if I gave up late last night or simply found a pocket of daylight, but either way the only think you can do is move forward in a constant motion (even sitting still has it's progressive act, eh?) Hey, I've said plenty, really - geography puts limitations upon what a man can do, and sometimes words are simply not enough to inspire a parallel act in return. I know there is shyness, and I know there is hesitation, and if I am John Cusack in a phone booth in the middle of a rainstorm talking to his sister going 'I gave her my heart, and she gave me a pen...' or Roxanne speaking to Christian 'I ask for cream, you give me milk and water...' at least I give my heart, and and least I ask for cream, and though I'm not everyone's cup of tea in the early morning, I'd rather be the individual who does so, than be cold (You asked me a few days ago if I still found you attractive, and you know the answer is still Yes) I will arrive in Montreal February to perform, and the answer will still be Yes. One thing I've tried to do is see things beyond my own dick, and look at the larger reality, and the reality is that I really do understand, on some level, a certain kind of decision. I am also still a man, though, and if I'm going to refer to Say Anything and Cyrano De Bergerac, then I should also be Prince on stage in front of Morris Day and Appolonia going 'Do You Want Him, or Do You Want Me...?!' and then proceed to have sex with the stage while doing so (I know if Prasad read that he'll be laughing) Last night I stripped my show down to it's bare parts - the prologue which was the initial structure of the entire show (A piece rejected by granting agencies, but in it's earlier forms as a simple piece of writing inspired many a 'You wrote THIS?' comment) A third stanza rooted in the longing for someone of a long time ago (if anything, it's as good of a piece of longing as there has ever been) and knocking on Finklestein's door a month ago, and having him tell me 'You should forgive yourself for what happened, it wasn't your fault...' was as lovely as a gift from the gods as I'll ever receive. There is the epilogue, where I actually sing (That's right, I SING, and when you hear what it is that I sing, you'll understand quite clearly how appropriate it is to the occasion) And then there is the 2nd stanza, and that Stanza has your name on it. Your name. And in this, there are few words, and many actions. It is the hardest thing I've ever done - harder than a year full of cancer and seizures and almost losing an eye. I honestly can't do all the choreography I've come up with so far. But I will by the time February rolls around, and the silence of one particular individual has made me wish to do this even more (if that were possible) The rest of the stanzas (and the other muses) will have to wait for later on this year, in another show or offering (my apologies to those individuals, but you can wait - I've waited long enough, myself) This is my show - four parts (one for every single chamber of the heart?) I sing, I dance, I act, and I want. So I should finish this entry, and attend to morning ('We, oppressed who love, must win...' after all...) If this offering is not enough for one, it is definitely enough for me (and I'm guessing that someone will not be so silent if they see it) I'd say I'd want to kiss her sex for a long time this morning, and though I genuinely do, upon this day, at the end of the year, I do not truly know if she's ready for it (I've known enough lovers this year to know that in the end, they settle for mediocrity, rather than the taste of something real, and that is how they become ex-lovers)

If for some reason you are ready, then you should say something (I'm a good listener, remember?)

On a further pop-culture note. If I were an auto mechanic, I'd be Bruce Springsteen with a freight train running through the middle of his head, leaving keys upon a mailbox (though I think in my video, I'd use them to open the door...)

Off to the day we go.

He's Lost Control

2008-12-28T19:22:00.000-05:00

I had a violent, albeit it good night last night. There was a lot of dancing, and an evening lacking in inhibition (I'm glad I'm the kind of individual who can indulge in such things sober) Where the restraint has gone, I don't know, but I don't think it's coming back anytime soon. Am I grateful for the discipline of dance, well yes (You have no idea how much working up three sweats a day is saving my sanity at the moment) I feel better, and I feel stronger, and wilder, but also more bent, and apt to lose it, and emotionally volatile. I'm turning into the character I created in my show (and yes, he is more the person I would want to be, rather than the person that I am) I told this to Veronica once and she and I agreed that it's something genuine to find that place in art, where you do have the opportunity to aspire to something more, and greater, beyond you, and understand that you aren't something yet (but are trying) He is who I wish to be, because he isn't cool - he's precise and focused but apt to explode at any moment, and all of his violence is brutal lovely (mine still is a little restrained) Maybe it's the girl of the last stanza (You know who you are) What am I doing, really, to want someone so much? What? Is it really justified? (I'm using rational thought to justify desire, oh that's really smart) All I know is that the more I dive into Him the more I'm starting to become the guy I created. I don't mind, because it's what I wanted. But I didn't anticipate or expect this feeling - this feeling of longing that is in one of the stanzas from years ago, all of a sudden present in the now, for a girl who is presently standing by a window, staring skyward, saying absolutely nothing. It would be one thing if she wasn't attracted to me - I wouldn't like it, but I'd let it go. The fact that she is, though, is starting to hurt. It really is, and I don't know if I can't take much more of it, or if it's a case where I really can, and it truly is being poured into a fabulous piece of art. I desire more than one person at a time - it's my nature, I won't apologize for it, and I don't commit anymore for a reason. It just so happens that the girl who is the quietest, and who says nothing, is the loudest in my body (and I confess, in the heart) Thank god I'm an artist - I can take this out on a stage (and I'm so much better at it now than I was) If you ask me truly though, in this case, I would rather piss on the art and be inside of her body, than do a show that is loved by many. I know that feeling won't last (I'll still want both - to kiss her on the mouth and to perform worldwide seems like an ideal combination) But today, on this day, I'd rather not be a performer, and rather be her lover. So to hell with me today for feeling like this, and for my lack of sanity on the matter. Today, sanity does not prevail. I am only thinking with my body, and my cock, and wanting to fuck her badly, and leaving it at that. Tomorrow, I will still want that, and the stage - I won't feel like I'm having to choose (why does it even feel like that?) If all that can be left to be said is on the stage, I won't complain. No matter how this post sounds, I have a good life teetering on the edge of greatness. Today, it just simply doesn't matter so much (Tomorrow will be different, no doubt)

I should go sweat again.

It's the little details...

2008-12-27T18:41:00.000-05:00

Time is wonderful. I've never had this much breathing room. Somehow, even while paying off my mom's mortgage, I've found myself with enough for a down payment on a studio (elsewhere, mind you - Toronto property values, shame on you, really) Even more, though, I have time to create, and it's quite an extraordinary thing to see the physical and emotional changes the last few months (I wasn't able to properly reflect since I really have been working for the most part since May) I changed so much. Really. More in persuasion and clarity than anything, and though I'm still wild in the heart, I think a part of me is a little more measured in intent. I make mistakes still (but less of them, and so inconsequential it's funny) My job teaches being blunt and immediacy, and when I return to work upon the 7th of January (only to leave on the 30th to start performing) I'll miss it for that, but I'll be grateful for those skills which I apparently needed work on. I still need a lot of work, actually, but I really am getting there. It's an unusual feeling (I feel like I never get 'there...') I was writing a cheque to rent a venue in Montreal today (I haven't sent it, but I'm staring at it, and laughing that even when this leaves my bank account, I'll still have plenty to do what I have to do) I feel like I've earned this time - I've bought myself a little freedom and space to make such a thing permanent. I have a chance, and it feels quite tangible, and lovely (and scary even, in the best of ways) I look at the work, and it still sings. The body does, and so does the voice. I wonder what happened - when did the switch flip to this (and I stayed away from so many people for such a long time because I needed to get here, in silence, not necessarily on my own, but a little more alone) Yet there's still passion, and it's greater, and in the few interactions I have had with the outside world, I've been told that there's something new about me that others see (and it's a compliment) Maybe this is what a relaxed tension is - the thing eluding me in dance I have (and maybe I finally got it in life) You can still be wild, and with fire and heart, and still be at ease with it (I guess you can say, I walk around now without a care in the world, and I don't know when that happened, but thank the stars that it did) So it's the end of the year, and I have my show, and all the funding I need to pull it off the way I wish to. I'm heading to Montreal in early March, and I don't know how many times I will perform in Toronto (if any) before then (I'll think about it) And then onward to Halifax, and back here for a while before I see the west. At the conclusion of this summer, I'll have gone cross country, and I'm glad for that fact. I love summer in Toronto (but I don't mind not being here for some of it)

As for my heart when it comes to desire well, let's just say that I'm worthy of being wanted, and leave it at that for now.

Come to my show, eh?

It Might As Well Be New Year's...

2008-12-25T20:09:00.000-05:00

I've calmed down somewhat since my last post. But not completely. Maybe I needed to fall off the edge a little bit, and stop acting so cool, when it's better to be hot. It's Christmas Day, and all I've done is either rest or dance (and I'm about to do the latter once more) Then it's staying unplugged, away from most technology (save for the headphones and the music coming out of them) and it's back to writing. Writing this show. Writing this show which has turned into an entire playlist of stanzas, where I'm losing track (and the mere fact that I'm losing track when it comes to this particular subject matter, tells me I've been exposed to a certain kind of emotion and loss far too much, and I am genuinely sick of it) If you ask me how I appear, it's calm, not with an expressionless face, but quite focused (I don't think I'd want to be someone in a staring contest with me right now, because they would lose) I was told by a friend late last night that she thought I could burn a hole in people with the look in my eyes now, so if anything, falling off the deep end emotionally has done something wonderful for the art. I found the source, and ultimately, that is what matters. Sometimes you can't do anything about the actions of others (nor should you even try, unless you're trying to save their soul from an addiction or death) We love who we love, and we want who we want, and my job right at this moment is to dance what I dance, and write what I write, and hope that it translates well enough upon a stage to make people think. Or make you think (or even better, feel) If you're a girl who is part of the subject of this show (and there are a few of you) I'm sorry, but all I've got is my longing, and my desperation, and my wild, and if that's not enough for one (or a few) of you, whether I've known you, or have yet to know you, all I can say is that at least, there is no illusion. I left my heart out there for all of you to see, and if that's not enough, then I better get accustomed to the fact that I am simply going to be one of those people who ends up alone, because he couldn't settle (and sorry, but I've heard a lot of voices, and the majority of you, when you turn aside to your sleeping lover, for one brief moment, know that you are settling) I can't. I'm incapable of it. I want that higher love and if it means bruising and ripping my body up on a stage to show it (and yes, to even show you) then so be it.

Time to dance.

I wrote you an email

2008-12-24T00:17:00.000-05:00

I wrote to someone in the morning (it's just past midnight, now the 23rd) and I told her things that were burning on my lips. I hate technology. I hate that it was technology that had to be the medium of expression, but so be it (I said what I had to) You asked me last night if I still found you attractive, and I said yes (those of you who are linking to my blog here from an outside source, probably have an idea who it is) I'd say your name but I'm saving it for a stage, and you should know I am only growing wilder in the hours since I said what I said. Have I not earned an audience? (You remember that line) Right now, at this moment, I gather you are lying in someone else's bed, and I truly do understand it. I would only tell you that my body is warmer, and harder, and far more wilder than most of the boys who chase after your skirt (my mouth keeps mouthing your name after every sentence, like I want to say it badly, but I'm still saving it for the stage) Maybe that's why my show is about what it's about, because I am the more understanding, and the greater of lovers, and when things fall apart, when your boys scatter like rats away from light into the shadows and behind the walls, I stay and stay so very well. I find you information and I hold your hand and if I'm far away I use words that make you feel like I am. Yet it is past midnight, I have danced twice, and you are in his bed. He who has failed you in a short period of time, while I have never, and have always been here. People disappear and come in and out of your life and here I still am. I would tell you that it breaks my heart but it only beats stronger, and I assure you, when I arrive in that town of yours and I finally whisper your name with corresponding narrative and choreography, maybe you will finally realize just what you have on your hands (and learn a little more about the man who is still waiting outside) I know you have thought about me lying in your bed (fucking god, will you just let me in?)

Space

2008-12-04T10:39:00.001-05:00

I've been ill the last seven days, and I've lost a lot. One would argue that perhaps I was simply meant to. If I apply reason, or rational thought to this all - if I step back and observe things from a distance and wonder about the nature of the last seven days, I would argue that the fever was necessary, because my body desperately required to detoxify, and that I needed to be at a ground zero, so that if I wanted to pursue all narratives, and head into the new year unfettered, and with momentum, I required loss. So this is loss. It began last Friday with a simple knock on the door, and a stranger (in the beginning) who answered, who upon reflection, was a pivotal figure in my life three years ago - someone who I was aware of, and never knew, who tied into all the longing and loss that brought me to this point. I shook his hand, and I wonder if he was the one who was sick, who gave me this (it would make sense if he did, really) And then one by one, lost loves everywhere. I would say everyone I have been wanting the last while, in one form or another, shared their love elsewhere (only one of these persons was in an official relationship) One by one, every single longing became officially unrequited (not to say there isn't potential there, but let's be a realist, if there was immediacy to it, I wouldn't be writing this blog, but kissing one of those girls) Maybe I need to admit that I am alone, and that's not a statement of nihilism or even self-pity, but again a rational, logical perspective - I simply am. I am the shoulder, the friend, the brother - I am the one who everyone comes to when they are despairing, and not when they are desiring. I take initiative, and few, if any, take the parallel with me. Maybe this is just simply space, because I have a show to work on, and a studio to build (and money to earn that goes towards both) Maybe I just required being stripped down and cleaned out and be at a loss, because space is simply being made for what is ahead. I like that thought. I love that thought, actually. Sitting here, sipping on tea and feeling my body wake up for the first time in seven days (still ill, mind you) I realize that I may have lost a lot the last week. It may have hurt in the body and the heart, but if acknowledgement of how I feel, and a stripped down body to rebuild properly is the result, I have no complaints.

So please, just get this fever out of my body, so I can start again.

Tag, You're It...

2008-11-26T11:49:00.000-05:00

I've got two evolving narratives on the go - one the solo piece to debut in Montreal in late January, and another is a new idea based in an old concept (something which I might have wanted to explore a little while ago, but didn't have the strength or inclination to fully do so (or the wisdom combined with the knowledge along with the body...) Suddenly I do, and I have a willing partner (which absolutely does help, when it comes to the pursuit of this idea - it's good to know that there's someone saying 'Yeah, I'd love to do this...') It's rooted in jazz narrative, and it's linear, and it's two lovers in dialogue, in between kisses and the potential for fucking (I love either crossing lines, or dancing upon them) Either way, I look at the calendar this early grey afternoon and I realize that I'm giving notice to my practical job (a few weeks from now, it will be time to stop) so that I can return to Montreal, perform my show (and see what happens, eh?) I'm glad at this moment, and perfectly fine with how long it took to get there. I'm glad that even though I do love my job, that I'm leaving it again (I left it before to go to Montreal, and things worked out perfectly fine, but I wasn't the man I am now when I did previously, and the man now is far more wilder, and far more precise) I am thinking then that it matters to just look at the next few weeks as a continual stripping down (I've already let a few people go in my life, while inviting others in, and that will be the trend) Maybe I won't talk as much, and just work even more, but if you're choosing a time to do such a thing in a year, late November into all of December seems spiritually correct. Soon, it will be a new year. Soon I will have even more money and resources to put on one hell of a show. Soon I will have even more of a downpayment on a studio space. Do I play the role of the therapist, or do I become the dancer? (You know what the answer to that one is) A man is a reflection of his space, and mine is spartan, with all things put away, with plenty of room to move, and plenty of dancewear to wear out, so it's time to say less (well, not here) and do more.

So here we are.

Today

2008-11-15T20:03:00.000-05:00

So much has changed since I last wrote two months ago, and now that I have survived all levels of cancer and injury, I suddenly woke up clean and empty and so full with desire and wild intent, and though words are such a powerful thing, I suddenly saw my body again in aftermath and realized that I have plenty I can give with it without saying a word, and that the daring thing would be to do so, and to not necessarily forget the past when it comes to longing and desire, but to simply just be physical with a laugh and a wink, and forget yesterday, and just be in the now, because the now is so delicious and sweet to taste, I simply want it more in my mouth right now.

Now.

2008-09-09T11:58:00.001-04:00

I am feeling desire on several levels, in so many situations or places. It's like everything now drips with want, and I don't know if it is because I am finally settling into my skin, and taking progressive action, or if it's simply time for pleasure. All I know is that I am walking around hard, and it shows in my eye contact, and the motion of my body, and I think I will absolutely enjoy my upcoming trip to Montreal, merely so that I can be around more people who seem to appreciate something far more open and sexual (really, Toronto for all it's beauty, and beautiful people, still has that classical air of repression) I was catching people staring at me yesterday, on the streets, and on the train, and everytime I returned a gaze a pattern would develop, where they would look away, or look up and around, but eventually back again (my gaze never wavered - I stayed staring, and you could tell there was intent in my eyes, no doubt) A feeling like this only inspires wanting it more, and doing more to have it, and I find that the more that I take care of my body and heart, the more I feel like devouring, whether it's in eye contact, or my mouth somewhere appropriate (really, if some of you opened your legs, I'd stay there for days, because what is better than dance and sex?) I was picking up supplies for my show (Hello American Apparel Underwear) and realized that it's no longer a show, but that this is my music. I play pieces with words and the body, and this is not a formal theatrical presentation (even in your room, it doesn't have that formality) It's just a guy on a bed doing physical monologues, and laughing with the audience in between set pieces, and indulging in improvisations around the standard notes. It's jazz music, and jazz is what started all this madness years ago. I came back home, essentially. It's Coltrane. But the instrument is my body, and my mouth, and I think I speak both of the show, and the want I have for you (and for you, and for you, and for you...)

You should let me play you, darling.

2008-09-05T21:38:00.000-04:00

I feel strong. Powerful. I can see it in my body, and in the comfort and ease I have slipping into certain kinds of situations before, where I'd fail at. Words are precise, and I'm not hesitating anymore with what I have to say, whereas I remember days when I couldn't even allow myself to experience desire, or be physical in the way I am now. I used to not have this much courage, and I know that surprises some people who've only known me for 3-4 years, but it's quite true that a lot of the experiences I have had in the past, I fell into by accident, or was the one following, whereas now, it's a mutual walking together (I only like to lead in dance...) I used to not improvise, and now it's all proceeding on the fly, and where I used to cherish a good night's rest, I can't get any sleep anymore, because there is just too much of pleasure to be had, and my mind simply can't rest anymore (and the body has to follow) I'm not saying I am a saint, and I'm not saying I've treated a lot of the people I know fairly, but I know what the fall ahead is about to bring, and that's a lot of posing for artists, and a lot of travelling, and a lot of performing. I am performing now because I decided to accept a certain failure of my body, and understand that maybe it breaks down so much because I've been trying to do something it's not capable of, and that's okay. But what I am capable of is so much, and I've finally given myself over to it, after a long time of fighting it. There's nothing wrong with a wild piece of physical theatre, and suitable, inappropriate contact to go with such a thing. Maybe that's just me, and why I've been so quiet with some of the people I have loved, because I had to learn how to be myself. It's not easy, and I won't always do it well, but trying is turning into living, and I like sleeping on floors, and in strange beds, and staying unaffiliated. I took an old piece of narrative from a hard memory, and now it's something that is ready, and in a few days, it will debut in Montreal, and where I have to leave a certain art behind, a new one is now waiting for me, and I feel like a fool that I didn't see it sooner (but hey, maybe I just wasn't meant to see it so soon, eh?) My knee or my head doesn't even hurt right now, and as for my heart well, it may potentially ache now and then, the next while, but not for a lack of daring (and daring these days, suits me fine...)