whirlwind (or words, words, and more words)

A long overdue blog update:

All of my houseguests are gone: the San Franciscans have returned westward and the Rhode Islanders (all in all, a staggering number: Mia and Dan, Enrique, and my brother and some unspecified array of his fraternity brothers, who had been in town for an event at Hooters [they claimed it was the only casual place that would take a reservation for that many people on a Saturday night...I think they were just following some unwritten - or, perhaps written, but written by the very same people who wrote Animal House - rules about fraternity gatherings]) have all zipped to various destinations north and west.

Since then, I've been in Anusara Immersion part 1 at Vira Yoga, taught by two wonderful and inspiring women, Zhenja La Rosa and Dana Covello. I will continue my immersion sequence, somewhat circuitously, with part 3 led by Noah Maze at Shri. Tonight I'm going to crack open The Bhagavad Gita in the Mahabarata as translated by JAB van Buitenen. The NYPL has exactly one copy in circulation and it's now sitting on my bedside table.

On a related note, I really dig this book The key muscles of hatha yoga. It's pretty expensive, but I think I'd like to get my hands on a copy.

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Last weekend Enrique I went to the Gotham Girls Roller Derby bout at City College. The event featured the Brooklyn Bombshells versus the Queens of Pain in a kind of drag-show-meets-Incredibly Strange Wrestling-meets-Suicide Girls-meets-serious-athleticism extravaganza. Enrique came so he could see a bunch of lesbians on rollerskates beating each other up. It turned out to be more like a bunch of lesbians on rollerskates bumping into each other and skating really damn quickly. But it was loads of fun anyway. And after the event I met someone extraordinary, whom I look forward to seeing in ...



Berlin!

I will depart on July 26 to convene with Rachel and her sister Stephanie for several days of galavanting followed by arts-related stuff and meeting various people in Berlin and, subsequently, Kassel, where my friend Julia is performing at documenta.

I am not exactly sure what will happen after that, but I plan to be back in New York by August 20 for more training with SITI.

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Jumping back a bit, I also had the pleasure of seeing Fables de La Fontaine at the Lincoln Center Festival (where later this week I will see kabuki ensemble Heisei Nakamura-za). Now I can finally say that I've seen something directed by Robert Wilson and, moreover, that I liked it. Really outstanding, in some cases, breathtaking performances and some highly entertaining and charming vignettes. And poignant, sure, but in a sort of mellow, gentle way, even at their most assertive.

Last night Larry and I went to hear The Decemberists perform at the Central Park Summerstage. In addition to Red Right Ankle, they played Sons and Daughters near the end of the show.

Here are some lyrics:

When we arrive, sons & daughters
We'll make our homes on the water
We'll build our walls of aluminum
We'll fill our mouths with cinnamon now

These currents pull us 'cross the border
Steady your boats, arms to shoulder
'Til tides are pulled our hull aground
Making this calm harbor now home

Take up your arms, sons and daughters
We will arise from the bunkers
By land, by sea, by dirigible
We'll leave our tracks untraceable now

When we arrive, sons & daughters
We'll make our homes on the water
We'll build our walls of aluminum
We'll fill our mouths with cinnamon now

Hear all the bombs, they fade away

And suddenly, standing near the back of a throng at a concert where my bicycle helmet had been confiscated by security guards because "it might be used as a weapon", I realized where I was and what was happening. Hundreds of people singing "hear all the bombs, they fade away" - I was standing in a heaving, swaying, singing mass of people underneath a clear night sky in the park. And we were celebrating. And, as I do, I cried...because it was really, quite strikingly beautiful.

And here's Red Right Ankle, just because I love it:

This is the story of your red right ankle
And how it came to meet your leg
And how the muscle, bone, and sinews tangled
And how the skin was softly shed

And how it whispered “Oh, adhere to me
For we are bound by symmetry
And whatever differences our lives have been
We together make a limb.”
This is the story of your red right ankle.

This is the story of your gypsy uncle
You never knew ‘cause he was dead
And how his face was carved and rift with wrinkles
In the picture in your head.

And remember how you found the key
To his hide-out in the Pyrenees
But you wanted to keep his secret safe
So you threw the key away.
This is the story of your gypsy uncle.

This is the story of the boys who loved you
Who love you now and loved you then
And some were sweet, some were cold and snuffed you
And some just laid around in bed.

Some had crumbled you straight to your knees
Did it cruel, did it tenderly
Some had crawled their way into your heart
To rend your ventricles apart
This is the story of the boys who loved you
This is the story of your red right ankle.

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And now I'm here, listening to the whir of electronics, eating egg whites at midnight and sipping iced Roastaroma tea.



It sure is summer.