ground zero residency

There is a new residency program by the coolest fart institute of mental health and well-less-ness clinic called the normal.

si bap bap du bap

I signed up because I'm interested in the innovative aspects of self worth and breathing techniques and spiritual cleansing and protozoaic detox. I want to heal myself. Badly.

Somewhere over the Arch de Triomph, life is so worth it you crave a credit card. Nothing's short of meaning if you dare. Tectonic movements of the third kind. If you know what I mean.

I take on, for instance, small battles. I battle up and down and around the beetle bush and nobody tells me about the maze.

Mais, mais 'maïs' it may be to the French, as if they have to gentrify everything. If I, too, chew pebbles in my mouth I sound very, very philosophical (à la française avec de la moutarde). Blè d'inde, the Québécois would say instead. Their fur was more furry than the Europeans. Potatoes and lard made them strong. For when America was invented slave trade was underdeveloped.

Things have progressed big time.
You have to be grateful and hashtag your #love #lovingit #peace #life.

Then there is Azis, for heavens' sake.

azis

As an up and becoming, even more so, come around, come again member of this groundbreaking community where the epicenter is filled with many a hypothetical hippopotamus, I am grounded and I connect with the larger issues regarding the situation vis à vis aesthetics of ennui.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

postponed, procrastinated, belated

Not knowing where to start is how I start because I cannot start otherwise. I turned and tossed the idea of patch-working my life, that of others, collecting stories, sound and images here and there into a blog. The idea was so well executed that I did nothing to actually begin anything concrete. In its nebulous form the 'feeling' of the blog was just so cool. Really cool. And what if the words did not do it justice? What if my idea sucked? Terror. Then I said to myself, 'if you have sore throat, eat ice cream' and precisely after a year or two of attempting to create this blog, here I type away with no basic plan, no structure, no purpose really. Welcome.
Read more

Agnès

I'd abandoned this blog, as one does, because it is mine to abandon. I'd abandoned many a thing: half eaten oatmeal, lovers, cats, ideas for films, luggage here and there, promises and boxes of delicate  negligibles  in other people's basements. For someone who gathers and keeps (if only in her heart) people, beasts, pebbles, her grandfather's watch and illusions, the abandoning is a necessary function. I retract. I retrieve. I transit. I cradle the thought that if I could... I would have had I... Abandon comes with a side of undone capable of surviving minor tragedies. Agnès Varda est morte. Long live Agnès Varda. I'd met her on the stairs of a venue I can't quite remember (the MaRs building or Isabelle Bader Theatre?), during Toronto Film Festival in 2004 when she was traveling with Cinévardaphoto , a three part reflection on photography. It must have been a press screening because there was a handful of us when she suggested we go outside. Accompanied by tw...
Read more

an awful nurse

"You'd make an awful nurse!" I have been told twice. Not that I harbor some sweet affection, deep understanding or an overflowing nurturing capacity that's yet to be unearthed. I am grumpy and impatient. Some like it hot-headed. In December 2009, when Robin was frail, transparent and wheezing in the bed he would soon die, I was spraying fake saliva into his mouth and missing the point, I was fixing his pillows to the most uncomfortable position his bones could ever bear. Of Robin, nothing was left but bones. Robin had a T-shirt with Alfred Hitchcock's head in a glass bell jar or an astronaut's helmet that sat perfectly atop his jolly good and mighty belly, giving Hitchcock a 3D quality somehow. That was when Robin used to cook lamb shanks, we'd drink quite a few bottles of wine each, there'd be some singing or somber discussion on the state of academia, he would at some point cheer up, recite dialogues from movies I'd never heard of. As Robin melte...
Read more