A Litany for Survival

For those of us who live at the shoreline
standing upon the constant edges of decision
crucial and alone
for those of us who cannot indulge
the passing dreams of choice
who love in doorways coming and going
in the hours between dawns
looking inward and outward
at once before and after
seeking a now that can breed
futures
like bread in our children’s mouths
so their dreams will not reflect
the death of ours;

For those of us
who were imprinted with fear
like a faint line in the center of our foreheads
learning to be afraid with our mother’s milk
for by this weapon
this illusion of some safety to be found
the heavy-footed hoped to silence us
For all of us
this instant and this triumph
We were never meant to survive.

And when the sun rises we are afraid
it might not remain
when the sun sets we are afraid
it might not rise in the morning
when our stomachs are full we are afraid
of indigestion
when our stomachs are empty we are afraid
we may never eat again
when we are loved we are afraid
love will vanish
when we are alone we are afraid
love will never return
and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid

So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive.

the body that knows also unknows,
the body as a clocking function
an invisible expiry date
a ticking gesture of redoing
undoing
unraveling automated
systems
system of function and dysfunction
mechanically soft
softly aging

day 2

Looked at walls
improvised a bit
retouched the choreo
unmotivated

Paths and Positions

Every position
or
nearly every position
has an association or a reading
what does another body read from a moving form, or from a static one
how do I find those forms that are the least identifiable, relatable
what if they are just a form of existing in an unproductive world
a world where our moving body didn't exist merely for a survival goal

5min mov. impro now

I explore the functionalities of this body that I inhabit
I recognise its privileged capacities as well as its underestimated potentials

The new paths of movement that have not yet been met

We could name it the performing object. If we do a handstand, call it a circus piece. If we win the marathon, we are successful. In the seek for peace we enjoy our failed attempt to be happy. The poetry of the hairdryer is in the embarrassment of the sugar-free industry. The carrot doesn’t peel itself. The carrot is lonely. The lonely carrot is overloaded by the compulsory desire to be everything, everywhere, at the same time. I am not the carrot. Eat it before it rots into a nutrient-less something.