Merce Cunningham

I realise that for most of you the name Merce Cunningham means
nothing. He was, however, one of the most important figures in art in
the twentieth century.

He died last night at the age of 90 leaving a legacy that few could
ever hope to acheive.

Cunningham was a Choreographer avant la lettre.

Art was art, whether it involved the human body or not. Famous
collaborations with Cage in which both his music and Cunningham"s
dance were created separately and only during performances played/
danced together.

The story that has always stayed wth me is this:

"One day Merce was at the swimming pool. Relaxing in the restaurant
there he was separated from the pool and the swimmers by a large glass
window. There was also a large jukebox that sometimes played popular
numbers of the time.
Merce noticed for the first time in his career that what he was seeing
on the other side of the glass was.connected to what he was hearing on
his side. Although neither was deliberately constructed to do so, the
swimmers and musicians where somehow, on a subconscious level, in
perfect harmony with each other."

Without Merce Cunningham and his work, Art would be a lot different
today.

Only the risk-takers push the envelope for the rest of us. Not because
they want to, but because they have no other choice.

We should praise their (and therefore our) right to celebrate feedom,
and that these wonderful people give us a vocabulary to do so.

Sent from my iPhone

Flight not Fight

The desire to avoid conflict, flight rather than fight, has always been strong in me. Even when I am 'right' I would still rather say I was 'wrong' if it meant a quieter life.

That's where my Mother's conditioning kicks in.

"Anything for a quiet life".

Its the only saying I remember her using, ever. It was an admonition to stay low, be subservient, be 'in the wrong'. All this was infinitely better than what?

What?

Malcolm McLaren - Waltz Darling

Durex-The flying condom- vf

With thanks to leo X

Friendship

An ever-recurring subject for me, and I suspect many others with me.

What is a friend? Lord knows.

I have no reference points anymore to define what a friend is.

That's not completely true I'm afraid. So just before I dive into the chasm that is self-despair I have to admit to myself and the world that I do have one friend who is truly beyond question a 'friend'.

This doesn't mean I'm getting away with anything of course. I still have to define what, at least what I, mean by the word.

I feel myself immediately going on the defensive here .... comments flit through my brain like 'no I don't mean unconditional love', or 'someone who is always there for me? That's impossible. Isn't it?'

Its like trying to define love for god's sake. I end up with a description of some kind of a holy ideal bordered and restricted by compromise.

A friend is always there for you when you need them - but of course not always because they have their own lives too.

A friend shares your innermost thoughts and desires - except of course not all of them because then they might think you were crazy.

A friend will always stand beside you - unless you're wrong. At least in their eyes. Or the eyes of their friends of course.

Give me a rare few. A rare few good men. Strong and true. Strong in mind and deed, true of heart and soul.

Bears

Hoogeveen

Hoogeveen

In Hoogeveen a woman has lain dead for two months. Her neighbours
hadn't seen her since May and were alarmed by the smell coming from
her house. The family have been informed.

Two months, how long was she dying before she died? How long did she
pray that the neighbours would notice due was gone, was she still
praying long after her soul had left her body? Did she hope for a
miracle, that her chdren would take the time to notice her
disappearance, now in her death if not in her life?

Dear lord please don't let that happen to me.

Sent from my iPhone

Time

New meds .... and time takes on a new meaning.

Awake every hour on the hour throughout the night as if the sleeping pil is itself an alarm clock set to disturb and alarm.

And 'day' becomes a flexible concept, and 'night' once more a thing to be dreaded (if not feared).

Going to bed has it's traumatic side for me anyway after 12 years of systematic rape within my relationship. 'Bed' and 'the bedroom' are not words that calm me, or inspire me to relax. Years I would go to bed as early as possible and pray to be asleep when my ex came to bed. Years I would fake being asleep just to try and deter him from wanting sex. Years I would try anything to make him cum quicker so it would be over quicker. Just get him to shoot his load in my ass and I could then get to sleep.

But of course I didn't sleep. Too tired to sleep, too hurt to cry, too afraid. My brain was numb. My body not my own. My soul?


Sent from my iPhone

Time

Please, Hello

Detente, oui detente, its the only thing we want

Withdrawal

> Going Cold Turkey when changing meds has it's plusses and very
> definite minusses.
>
> It's not pleasant to be wanting to cry every five minutes for no
> reason whatsoever. My eyes are red and sore and my head hurts more
> than aches despite the 1000 mg paracetamol.
>
> Still, musn't complain. No flu symptoms as yet, just a small but
> irritating cough. By the way, don't ever try eating cheese on toast
> and sneezing at the same time - I'm going to be spending some
> considerable time cleaning it off the wall opposite ....
>
>
> Sent from my iPhone

Withdrawal

Here we go again ....

Changing medication is not something I, or anyone else with a chronic
illness for that matter, do just like that. The threat of
"bijwerkingen" is real i,e, more of the same diarhea, hypersomnia,
obstipation etc. But lets not forget the fear of an all new cast of
symptoms on top of the old ones; stomach cramps, dizziness, insomnia,
and on and on and likewise and so forth.

The medication is "necessary". A "necessary evil" is how it's sold to
us.

We have no real evidence of the effects of long term medication,
dosage, combinations, duration.

We have become a race of guinea pigs.
Lets hope we don't turn into lemmings.

Sent from my iPhone

vera springveer: fame

Gone but not forgotten

Bad Night

Dear me .... One of those horrible HIV nights.
Sweating like a pig for a couple of hours then feeliing cold for the
next couple.
Ibuprofen en paracetamol to lower the fever and relieve the pain in
the joints.
Taxi cabs outside my window, screeching horns, ditto English tourists.
Sleep will come eventually ....

Sent from my iPhone

Margaret Cho -- These Christian Groups Have Lost Their Minds

Morning

Up at the crack of dawn. The sun is shining, the sky is clear and
bright. White Party people are making their way back home in two's and
three's. Tiny girls in even tinier white dresses shivering as they
cross the square in front of my window.
It's 6:15 and the city has just hit the snooze button again. Another
hour before it realises it is Saturday and rolls over once again.
Even the junkies are late this morning ....

Sent from my iPhone

Proud (40th Anniversary of the Stonewall Riots)