M. Lights

the smoke flowing from my lips is the same color as the light-tinged clouds.
my body is weightless
my hair singed by fire

basho

when did i stop contemplating the world i live in, and start to only focus on myself?

i think it's when i stopped reading poetry. somehow, a verse on a speck of dust seems to bring everything back into perspective.

the space in back of you

i feel particularly heartbroken today. battered by the wind, the hours spent awake.

then suzushi hanayagi allowed me to cry. her wrinkled hands
dancing in my mind.

Robert Wilson's homage, KOOL, to his teacher and friend, suzushi hanayagi, was performed two years ago. Tonight, I saw a documentary, the space in back of you, which was directed by him. The documentary narrates her dance life, and contains interviews of the people who love her and have worked with her.

You can read a review of KOOL here, although this is the image I thought of when I wrote the three lines above.

Even in the footage shown of her dancing, you can't help but feel impacted by the intensity and purity of each of her movements. That intensity pushes you to feel, to be confused and to wonder.

Mind the space in back of you.

i hate when you're right

salted cashews in ice cream soup taste worse than tears.

Palace of the Legion of Honor

I stood beneath the thinker,
watching as the clouds passed overhead
his body shrouded in muscles,
skin that turns darker with age.

i wish people would stop dying.

or, more selfishly to the point, i wish they would stop dying on the caltrain tracks and setting commuters back 1-2 hours.

i hate tapas bars

the food is good. the drinks are good.

the prices are exorbitant and the wait is not worth it. who on earth pays money to be seen eating in a restaurant off of tiny little plates with little portions and still be hungry?! how on earth is that remotely worth it?!

the anti-restaurant and the anti-buffet. i can't believe i'm paying for this.