Tuesday, November 29, 2011

make my heart beat. beat. beat.

Do you remember the American Dream?
“I think Kafka knew it,” she said through pierced lips. Her eyes were dismal and tired, the words falling off her tongue into some abyss of futile thought.
“Knew what?” I asked, pulling the cigarette from my mouth and savoring the toxins filling my throat and lungs.
“He knew that at the center of all things, there’s something horrible and unknown,” she said, her eyes drifting up enough to briefly meet mine and then darting quickly back down to the hot concrete.
“You’re too ambiguous. I can’t answer you because I don’t know what you’re trying to say. And besides, if it’s unknown, then why is it so horrible?”
“Because,” she said, “it’s horrible precisely because it’s unknown. That’s why we’re afraid of the dark. It’s not the darkness itself that frightens us, but we’re scared shitless of what’s hiding behind the darkness. Fear was at the root of Kafka’s angst. So many thinkers and artists can’t cope with that same thing. Nietzsche was desperately ill, Pollock was a raving alcoholic, Cobain went crazy. That’s hardly the tip of the iceberg. These minds saw enough of the world to know the chaos surrounding it. They saw the horror and drowned in it.”
“I think you’re wrong. I think Kafka knew somewhere that there is something infinite and beautiful in and beyond life. But we are trapped by the human condition. We fail to see what is so obvious. We live for tomorrow but all we ever need is today. I think he knew that but could never embody it. I think his intellect prevented him from feeling peace, but he knew that at the center of things was not something horrible and unknown. No, he knew that at the center is something heaving, eternal and inexplicably divine. All Kafka really needed was to drop some acid on a sunny day.”
“I think you’re full of shit,” she said.
“Well,” I shot back, maybe too soon, “I don’t think you can just read Metamorphosis and pretend to know what the fuck you’re talking about!” I crushed the cigarette against the sole of my shoe and exhaled. This was the same talk we’d had a thousand times. It was just taking a new form this time. She was talking about life as some meaningless entity, something that we try desperately to see but can’t, like we’re staring into the sun. And I was the blind optimist, trying to see the beauty in those bright blue spots burned into the back of my mind.
“You don’t have to be so abrasive,” she said, obviously hurt and beginning to tremble.
“I’m sorry, babe,” I said. I had forgotten again how easy it was to shake her. I reached into my pocket for another cigarette. And to think I was contesting her nihilism. After finding out she was suicidal, her parents had been quick to sedate her with an endless supply of prescriptions. It was more lucrative for the medical world to treat her than to cure her, like swallowing saltwater to quench a thirst. They knew that every second she spent taking those damn pills was another moment of relative quiet. And the therapists could never help her. They were all too human.
“I just don’t know anymore,” she said, starting to cry. Her eyes were wet, beautiful against her skin. She had such a pure heart. It always hurt to see her like this.
“You never knew,” I joked. “And everyone is lost. You remember the American dream? Well here we are, spending our time watching television, rushing to get to jobs we hate, shopping for shit we don’t need, overeating, throwing up … and getting drunk to numb it all. The pain is universal. We’re all just treading water.”
She stayed still, her sobs beginning to quiet down. By the look of it, the weight of the world seemed to rest squarely on her alone. I would shoulder it as best as I could, but at night the weight would always come back to her. She would talk in her sleep, sharing her anxious abstractions, soft curses and cold sweats.
“Where did everyone go?” she said quietly, watching four lanes of traffic drift past us. “These people don’t look like they have lived a day in their lives.”
“They have,” I said, trying to calm her. “I’m sure they live at least two days a week.”
We both laughed.
“Things are going to get better, babe,” I said moving toward her, “trust in me, trust in beauty, trust in love.”
She kissed me and sighed. Then she started to giggle, enjoying the slight rush that sometimes comes after a cathartic cry.

—Adam Itkoff

Saturday, November 26, 2011

found an ahmaaazing art store and scootered home with four canvases in various sizes. mission accomplished.

"I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can’t see from the center."

Kurt Vonnegut

Friday, November 25, 2011

ahhh friday..

went straight from work to the night market and cruised around listening to my music and taking it all in. its like the first time every time.

emerged with two pairs of shoes, a headband, hair scissors, an amazing big sweater that i love and bargained hard for, and many months worth of incense.

mission accomplished. changing and heading to the fish market with em and friends to eat and drink with other friends.
feeling wonderful.
woke up from a series of annoying and unsatisfying dreams so grabbed my ipod and went for a run before i had a chance to think of something else to do. it ended up being just what i needed..

saw a giant white ceramic horse, or dog? statue in the middle of a park which startled me [it looked just like that one that joey bought in friends in the 90s]
a few interesting advertisements for a utopia art exhibit,
paper architecture,
two old men who stopped their rockers, put the brakes on them, and gave me huuuuge smiles,
a dog sleeping under a temple, and a beautiful bride and groom taking photos..

came home smiling. did some mat exercises, drank some water, and meditated briefly until emily woke up. now the shower is free so im heading there.

determined to make a good day today.

"Alice: How long is forever? White Rabbit: Sometimes, just one second." — Lewis Carrol


source: unknown

Thank goodness it's friday. I've given just about all I can give anyone this week. I plan on rejuvenating by leading a selfishly pleasure seeking lifestyle from the moment the bell rings on friday until late sunday evening. I turned down all offers of plans claiming more important plans with myself. Wherever they are hiding the canvas in Kaohsiung, i'm going to find it. And i'm going to buy as much of it as I can fit into knooks n crannies on my scooter and ride it home to set up shop on the roof. Nobody ever seems to be up there except for Em and I and colorful sheets drying on saturday afternoons from oversized drying racks.
do you think anyone would mind if i built a fort out of their sheets?
 i learned how to say 'i hear you but i dont understand you' in chinese so that should prove helpful. ill also make sure to wash this blonde mane and leave it blowing in the wind in case i need it to talk me out of anything. or just turn up the tunes and dance around them.

oh, two more things. 
1) im buying a tambourine for my classroom. 
2) i saw a poster for paragliding...which basically means flying as far as im concerned. and so im in.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

a wednesday vignette..

 Andy [or as i affectionately refer to him as Andy Gaga] got to school early today to corner me coming out of the class and ask if he could have:
'three, or maybe four minutes to play a cd and show the class his latest dance moves'

how could i deny anyone this?

so i didnt. and the last ten minutes of class we had a dance party that made every other over worked kid in KNS jealous.
he is just wonderful.

love across the ocean

nothing like a group skype call from these gems to brighten a wednesday morning. i love you all irrevocably. have a glass of wine for me. xx

This is not philosophy

"Everything is energy and that's all there is to it. Match the frequency of the reality you want and you cannot help but get that reality. There can be no other way. This is not philosophy. This is physics."
Albert Einstein

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

tuesdays off are absolutely delightful.

i apreciate any time that offers me the chance to be hedonistic for an entire afternoon.

rode my scooter all over town and finally found paints and brushes and a sufficient palette. no canvas yet. but in half english half chinese i think i understand that there is a giant art store by the train station. going there asap.

dying! to spend a day on the roof of my building painting.
maybe some yoga and dancing on breaks. who knows.

home now..no time for a run so that will have to wait for twilight. equally if not a better time. now its time for lunch and teacher clothes and teaching at five.


Sunday, November 13, 2011

Slow Dancing In A Burning Room

It's not a silly little moment,
It's not the storm before the calm.
This is the deep and dying breath of
This love that we've been working on.

Can't seem to hold you like I want to
So I can feel you in my arms.
Nobody's gonna come and save you,
We pulled too many false alarms.

We're going down,
And you can see it too.
We're going down,
And you know that we're doomed.
My dear,
We're slow dancing in a burning room.

I was the one you always dreamed of,
You were the one I tried to draw.
How dare you say it's nothing to me?
Baby, you're the only light I ever saw.

I'll make the most of all the sadness,
You'll be a bitch because you can.
You try to hit me just to hurt me
So you leave me feeling dirty
Because you can't understand.

We're going down,
And you can see it too.
We're going down,
And you know that we're doomed.
My dear,
We're slow dancing in a burning room.

Go cry about it - why don't you?
Go cry about it - why don't you?
Go cry about it - why don't you?

My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room,
Burning room,
Burning room,
Burning room,
Burning room.

Don't you think we oughta know by now?
Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?
Don't you think we oughta know by now?
Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?
Don't you think we oughta know by now?
Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?
Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?
Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?
Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?
Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?
John Mayer

Saturday, November 12, 2011

"I've got a lot to teach but even more to learn so now I keep my eyes open hoping to take in all I can.."

Friday, November 11, 2011



KNS recruitment video shot while we were training in September. Summer is a friend I met who I now take chinese lessons with and Sarah is a friend who works at the same school as Emily and I. Jana is the wonderful teacher I took over for!

Thursday, November 10, 2011

today in a nut shell:

woke up from a good dream mid night to the craziest storm EVER outside. couldnt even see outside my window. fell back asleep.

woke up to the rain. managed to get out of bed and scooter in my extremely fashionable poncho to yoga. couldnt hear the instructor because the storm was so loud. doesnt matter. she speaks chinese anyway.

went to school. it rained ALL day. it is still raining. its sort of insane..

maybe a typhoon is coming?

was thinking..rainy days should be universal days off. everyone should be allowed, encouraged to stay home and read books and drink tea. or wine. whatever youre feeling. 

embrace the raaaain

ps. teaching one of my classes about 'adjectives' today so i got them to come up with words to describe me...:
  • nice
  • beautiful
  • fat.
true story.

Betty and a bird

today is the day


today is the first day of the rest of my year in taiwan.


Wednesday, November 9, 2011

for you

for making me so deliriously, easily, light and happy tonight. and for doing so for as long as i can remember whether beside me or not.

"she's been pissed since noon."

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

late night monday / earliest morning tuesday

cant sleep even though i want to, 
so listening to slam poetry n making a list of books to read this year.

just heard this noteworthy piece of advice:

"never stop writing naked poetry to nobody"

Sunday, November 6, 2011

"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

the night market.

Colors.Canopies.Food.Fresh Juice.Lights.Incense.Bartering.Shoes.Scarves.Tarot Card Readings.Bags.Dresses.Glasses.More bags.Perfume.Books.Art.Jewellery...
sensory overload.
take me back

it makes me giddy.
happy girls