Today I went for a wander down a street that I have not walked before. Out of the apartment, and left onto 22nd. It is a lovely street and is a very sunny day. I encountered two intriguing smells. One was the white-blossomed trees that seem to be somehow related to Oranges. Their smell reminds me of the way the ais in Seville was heavy with perfume from all of the Orange trees. Perhaps these are some kind of decorative orange. At any rate, they are lovely and have a very welcoming, happy smell that is florifically innocent. Those trees are everywhere in the Mission so consequently it smells quite nice most of the time. I walked past Harrison, Alabama and turned right onto Bryant. Up Bryant to 23rd I went, and a few blocks later found the second smell.
It was the smell of some kind of laundery detergent and dryer sheets wafting from the vent of someones dryer. This is the kind of chokingly awful perfumed detergent that would normally be disgusting to my nose but this one I associate with a friend I once has and when I smell it is gives me a nice little wave of nostalgia. I don’t know what type of detergent it is but it is nice.

How do I weave all of the rapidly-firing-thought-threads into something meaningful? Place the thoughts onto paper and construct something articulate…perhaps metaphors are wonderful but are also used in laziness when we lack a more specific and accurate word to describe the concept on which we are trying to expound. I must be on endorphin overload for it’s not everyday that this many ideas are continuously welling up indise of me to the point that I wish for a scribe inside my head recording every vigorous leap of thought, graceful transition of concept and abrupt intrusion of synthesis. Those things occur in my head like movement. I don’t have words to describe what movement is like but I wish that I did. Maybe it’s like our use of metaphors to represent concepts too ephemeral for us to grasp entirely. We dance, and then want to talk about it, but it is too fleeting and inexplainable to explain.
But I wish that I had words for it. A word to describe the buttery, pliable feeling of using all of my moveable parts in space and feeling how each part affects the rest but doesn’t prevent isolation of the pieces of me. I can’t quite aptly describe how it feels when my limbs and torso seem to be hollow although each cell of my body tends to feel imbued with explicit and holistic information. All of that information allows my movable parts to coordinate and allows me to really see and feel the space which I feel I am (when I dance) able to mold around me.
The foot moves in a circle and the weight of the leg causes the torso to swing and weight the waiting leg which allows the shoulder and arm to follow through into a brief held shape, shoulder slung over clavicle. That momentary cohesion gives way to an arm swing in the coronal plane which then gives the necessary momentum to the first arm which takes the body into a turn. The front arm pierces the space and abruptly stops the turn as the weight of the pelvis softens into a deep fold with femur, hence absorbing the force of the turn. The body then turns 1/2 way around as the legs and arms swing overhead for an upside-down moment moving circularly through the coronal plane. Left leg lands, right leg leands with all joints folded underneath torso-weight, taking you to the floor but not stopping the momentum. That force is navigated into throwing the torso away from the legs and then suctioning the pelvis towards the elbow which is now supporting your weight. Pause.
You see, all of that movement is but the scant beginnings of a longer dance. When the whole 2-minutes of movement is written out like this beginning, it fills 3 hand-written 81/2 by 11 pages. It took me an hour to write (the long version) and it does little justice to the movement. Description is interesting but doesn’t even come close to reproducing the kinesthetic or visual experinces of doing or watching the movement. Those movements look, and very much feel like moving blobs of mercury that ocassionally, briefly stop for moments of stillness.
Movement to me causes things to make sense but the sense that comes also makes that sensability seem trivial. I guess that is the paradox of deeply caring yet letting go (of expectation).

The travelling part of 2006 was great. My nephew was difinitely a highlight of 2006 but it was also sad not to get to see him every day.

Overall 2006 was a gigantic fluke…or something. I’m not sure I actually have the verbal capability to succinctly describe what exactly 2006 was….it was somethin’ else. Now it is over and gone and sometime I will be able to look upon it with heart-felt nostalgia. I still miss David but it gets easier all the time. I still wonder about what happened and how I could have tried to treasure and protect our friendship with every fiber of my being and end up losing it anyway. Now there are other aspects of chaos, of a much more interesting and beautiful kind, that are causing me to feel like I am waking up and propelling myself forward once again.

You sit and bask in the romance of it all
The perfection
mystery
beauty.
All of these romances are untold horror
when you are somehow inexplicably
stuck in the middle of it in ways you can’t even fathom.
Obviously you don’t understand or you may have been
more delicate with any part of me.
You may have noticed that you abandoned me
or made me seem like less of a person.
Less of a happy, well-adjusted intelligent being
beacuse I have to shut down when any of the myriads of items
that are contained in these topics are brought up.
If you (any of you)
had been sensitive to the fact that a lack of sensitivity
and propriety could damage someone so throughly
you may have thought better.
Thought better of your flaunghting
thought better of my heart.