Originally posted on SURFAS-ing:
The temple courtyard is quiet, the early morning mist still lingering from the evening slumber. I’m alone as I step out of the tuk-tuk and walk towards the entrance, cautious not to trip on the roots stretching like fingers across the uneven stones. Past the main threshold leading into the temple…
Wonderful! wonderful! Keep going! –one of the most delicious meals I’ve had in a long, long time! Thank you for feeding me!
Have been in a blazing fury of writing –as if my life depends on writing, and it does. Writing, and writing about everything I can, and most difficult for me is writing about my aneurysms, cranial aneurysms, one of which ruptured and nearly killed me on the night that Amy Winehouse died. The night of my death also; yes –it seems that I’ve returned, but what is here is a resurrected form –I shouldn’t even be able to talk, let alone write, but here it is; I don’t really care if it’s good or bad –so, so nice to feel this unusual motivation, the laptop doing the best it can, this silicone typing skin covering the keyboard, so that the depressing of every key seems to have an echo, as if, almost, as if, I’m doubling the words…
Tonight I completed a first draft of what might become a chapbook –an idea for writing I couldn’t stop! —I didn’t want to…
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One of the most difficult meals to eat… Sorry this happened to you! –to be told that your world isn’t real? But guess now you know; Moxie and the rest of us already knew. Good that you’re working on forgiveness; that spoon full of sugar that ultimately makes everything taste better, even medicine like this. And in the end, you might even be better off… I know it hurts right now, but may hurt less later….Again; I’m terribly sorry…. Surround yourself with things you love; things you always trusted before he came into your life… Yes; Moxie supports a decision to forgive him… That’s the only way…
I report that I have been dumped as of 31 May 2013,
(definitely an earthquake in my heart)
for the first time in my life, by a man I really loved…, a man who reports the he doesn’t love me… May take me years I fear to adjust… There’s been a death in my family, which now has been reduced to only me… He says that he brought me into modern world, the “real world” –but all I’ve done is cry… as I try to complete, to revise a book about him, and a love that will never be… Turns out, it was all in my mind, my heart, but not his..
SOME MUSIC FOR MY SORROW:
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Most important meal of all. Forgiveness, and Compassion. Rmpathy. A purpose of eatinh
I cannot deliberately hurt you.
I can’t even say things against you and mean them…
Not what I want for you at all.
I care too much about you.
I want you to be happy, and I feel like a fool for saying this, but nothing that has happened has caused me to withdraw all forms of love.
And even a doormat is powerful in its protection of floor! —yes; it’s stepped on, and those who have stepped unwisely can wipe their feet, but they are the ones most in need of services doormats provide. Praise be to doormats!
Time for me to elevate doormats —Oh, I’ve joked to myself about a sweetness of revenge that I can’t sustain, and I’m glad, for revenge isn’t sweet at all. And I ask forgiveness for even thinking about it.
because I already know that love in…
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Sounds absolutely delicious! –decadent! –can’t wait to dig in! –dibs on seconds!
Happy to report that I’ve made , in my mind, significant progress on a collection of “prose poams”: LFMK (“Looking for My Killer”) a project begun some years ago, that lapsed; I never completed it, but recently, just a couple of days, completed an initial draft. Will spend the next few days trying to make a more definitive version – project inspired by a request from a friend, Daniel Vidal Soto, to contribute to a project: “Pangea Underground Worldwide“, and for that project, I located my video poam: LFMK (“Looking for my Killer”) –which led to my rediscovery of the associated prose poams which I began revising… And now: Looking for my Killer is a manuscript in progress!
Some of the prose poams the manuscript contains have been previously published!
Very excited about this process! –and another thank you; huge thank you to:
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One of my favorite books for any meal! –working on finishing meal of “LFMK” [see this video poam on Youtube -“looking for my killer”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aqQWGsWftBg%5D –and eat it all!
Carlos Fuentes (1928-2012), the famous Mexican writer, died a couple of days ago. Hearing this I immediately decided it was time for me to investigate his oeuvre. I selected his 1962 novella Aura, translated by Lysander Kemp; having previously read his short story ‘The Doll Queen’ in an anthology, I now believe he had not only great talent as a writer, but also (rather more surprisingly) a stylish way with horror fiction.
As a word of advice, my own experience of reading the book is that it demands the reader to be at ease. I was midway through the second chapter when I realised I wasn’t enjoying the story because I was reading it much too fast. I put it aside, returning later to start at the beginning and give it my undivided attention. Aura is short, so make it last. Take your time and savour it.
The cast consists of four characters:…
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Originally posted on SURFAS-ing:
Okay trying to admit to myself that I have been in love with a man who doesn’t feel the intensity of what I felt; he isn’t without feelings for me, but not exactly the feelings I would prefer; not my situation exactly. All I’m finding are bitter pills and I don’t want to eat them yet. Must supplement my diet with something better for me: him, of course, but I can’t make him love me the way I wanted him to love me… I accept him as he is. Not worth losing a friendship that I’ve had fr or so long.
Can’t believe how willing I seem to accept this –because the man I love is so great… Guess that instead of running away to join a circus, I run to join, surprising myself, a group of women this man sees. But it is what it is… He lives elsewhere –he is such a good man….but not exclusive. Doesn’t mean the same thing at all unless he chooses me, but that’s not likely to happen —I accept this. I will not longer try to get him to change his mind. He will be a good friend of mine… And still in my life, and that is good enough for me!
You wake up in a cold sweat at 1am crying because of a dream about them. You dreamt they were with someone else; a graphic dream of them with another, more beautiful someone. As you try to calm yourself down, you tell yourself this is just a dream. Through the words of reassurance you know that your only telling yourself lies.
They do not love you and you feel it with every breath you take in. You feel the heaviness in your chest, knowing deep down that the way you love will never be reciprocated. You put your heart and soul on the line only to be rejected, time and time again. Wearing your heart on your sleeve becomes a default, not a sporadic thing. When someone claims to love you, but doesn’t, you start to notice patterns of disrespect. They kissed another person? They were just drunk. They ditched…
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Stephen Gill co-existence for a lunch of interaction
The photographic voice of the English photographer Stephen Gill always has a playfully inventive ring. His book ‘Hackney Wick’ (Nobody, 2005), named after an area in east London where the photographs were made, is comprised of pictures taken with a cheap plastic lens camera he bought at a flea market in Hackney Wick for 50 pence. For his book ‘Hackney Flowers’ (Nobody, 2007) he gathered plants, flowers, and seeds, arranging the material over photographs (which he then re-photographed) — creating complex dimensional collage. For other series, he has buried prints to “allow the place itself to imprint upon the images through decay or markings;” or placed objects and creatures inside his camera creating images akin to in-camera “photograms” as seen in his book ‘Outside In’ (Photoworks, 2010).
So when the Centre National de L’Audiovisuel in Luxembourg commissioned Gill to create a new body of work and a book responding to…
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A most delicious book!
The cover image of Carrie Mae Weems’s engaging book finds the artist and photographer wearing a long black dress as she stands at the shoreline with her back to the camera, looking at the ocean. It looks as if she is contemplating the morning. We, the “reader” or “viewer,” wait in anticipation to open the book and look into her world. The cover image is our invitation! The photograph is from Weems’s Roaming series from 2006. She becomes our narrator to history. She states: “This woman can stand in for me and for you; she leads you into history. She’s a witness and a guide.”
Weems is an art-photographer, performance artist, activist and videographer—well known for her photographic series and multi-screen projections relating to themes focusing on family, beauty and memory. For the last 25 years, she has relied on stories from the ‘kitchen table’ and of life in the…
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