something vague that we're not seeing

My uncle, Mr. Crosby, was driving. I could see his eyes watching me through the rearview mirror, worried. Feeling bad for this, I told him I was taking a nap and that he could wake me when we got to San Francisco or somewhere beautiful. He lowered his head and nodded.

The next thing I knew, twilight had begun. The sky was an incredible purple; lit with bits of stars, like broken glass, anticipating their own failure as the fight to outshine the sun carries on. I'm lead by Crosby to a door which says---Exit Only.

Blurry eyed and foggy I stumble up the steep stairs, and into a dark room; thin slivers of neon lights streaking the smokey air. The music is almost unbearable. It's so loud I cannot even hear it, only feel it inside my chest. It's vibrating my nerves so intensely that I feel they're strumming the song itself.

But then you're there and the world disappears and makes sense. Then what do I do? Fall. Fall and spill someone's glass of water. You're a DJ and I'm a mess. Feeling all the wrong things at all the right moments.

You're jumping and spinning. It's like a scene from True Romance. And as I look up at you from still down below, I think, at least I've made it this far.

be fair to me, I may drift awhile

I chased the sunset

as the last violent red and purple rays

disappeared over the skyline.

I was surprised to find my reflection

waiting patiently across the water,

fragile and fearless.

Dulled lights, Tetris molds

and still waters support a city infected with chaos;

like the pores, skeletons and blood supporting my own empyrean self

simple (living)

Fathers

Observing and adoring he'll patiently sit--contemplating and counting his blessings. He'd carry the world, with all its tremendous weight -for you- dreading the day you'd have to hold it on your own.

And so, there's strength and pride, fear and distress--but their faces are so beautiful, emanating love and joy. Nothing matters except for the sounds of their laughter and the pure vision of their existence.

He knows life is short and can be a terrifying place, but there's nothing he can do besides
_sit back and love
_stand up and protect
and bring forth some wisdom

to love and be loved,
can be more than enough.





rest peacefully, grandpa.
[Antonio Malatesta; Oct. 23, 2011]

move for me, i'll move for you

hydrogenesis 

^^^^^^^^^^.

everybody's where they need to be, but nobody's where you need them...

Leaving Bushwick late last night,

I made my way past families and their friends and their kids and their families;

enjoying their final moments of humid evening

out on their stoops

under telephone lines and dangling sneakers.

I see a young boy a couple yards in front of me

holding onto a tree for dear life.

I notice that he is wearing roller skates;

and completely baffled

by how they are supposed to work

how is he seriously supposed to move or roll or skate?

he cautiously and semi-frantically looks over his shoulder

to his friends

seeking support.

After no acknowledgement, he calls out,

"A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE!"

By this point I am basically in front of him. 

We make eye contact.

No one responds.

A little farther now, I turn back around empathetically.

"Make them tighter!" I yell.

He stops moving. 

Eyes me suspiciously,

"Tighter?"

I half smile and nod.

He nods back, "Tighter."

[Dust under the rug.]

Subjectivity

"Because most of our knowledge of science is communicated to us as finished and accepted facts or theories, that is, as "final form presentation of science", we do not have any knowledge of the process of "private science," which is influenced and bounded by social, intellectual, metaphysical, and creative processes that most of us would believe to be quite "unscientific".

Thus, in examining the world of the scientist, I find that the interpersonal--that is, talk and the laboratory--is linked with ideas that emerge from the purely personal playground of imagination and wonder. The very private musing of a child finds its origins in wonder and may eventually be transformed through reflection, dialogue, and finally collaboration into a question and ultimately a theory about the world. These are the seeds that the classroom can nurture and build upon as teachers and children mutually engage in the world of science."

Amen.

you can't measure something that doesn't exist

i am in this moment, but i have been in every moment. i am here, but i have been there and everywhere. i am whole hearted. i am enough.

what does it mean to live? really live? is it to breathe?
and think and move?
Is it to feel love?
and happiness and sadness
and fear and shame and jealousy?
It is pride and courage.
Is it to cry?
is it to feel pain and inflict pain?
It is to kiss.
and taste and to orgasm.
is it to dream?
It is to imagine.
to play.
to laugh.
to help. and fight? to challenge.

Those are all primary facets to living, but what about the space in between? How does A connect to B? What kind of living does that constitute? Those are the choices we make. Those are our stories. I am an individual. I am nothing, but I am someone. Unique bodies developed through experience and  understanding. It is about connection--human connection--that reminds us we're alive and living.

Artificial connections boil below the surface, capturing the simplest elements of a body and vibrate the moments captured. They are a small reminder to ourselves that we're alive. Reminding us that we could always be our better selves if we do...if we buy...if we look like...if we listen to...if we believe...

we are enough.
without an army telling us so?
confront it; don't ignore it. why would you?
to not to be afraid of what you might find.

you are enough
be vulnerable
invite A (honesty) to meet B (shame)
you are enough.