meditations on top salt street sterling place

experimental performance. what does experimental mean? does it mean you do whatever you want? what does it mean to do whatever you want? can you do whatever you want on stage? what are your expectations of me when i do a performance? do you want me to dance? do you want me to sing? what if i don't do any of that. does that leave you dissapointed? if you are paying to see me, I'm supposed to deliver right? I'm supposed to do what you want, since you are my guest here inside the theater. but if u don't pay, that means you are just here for whatever happens. whatever is organically created in the space.

organic. i hear its healthier. but we don't want to be farming for shows. organic items are not accessibile to everyone. but if i like the taste, am i guilty for biting into it?

organic sounds apetizing. but often, when using pleasant words, by the time they start to translate as viable communicators they have already been coopted and their meaning corrupted.

so organic doesn't even mean what i want it to mean. now that i can use it to describe performance, it translates as some meaningless formless shitty stick. and when i do a performance, what happens if i make the decision to do whatever i feel like doing. without considering you. I'm always considering you. everytime i walk down the street. every time i'm laying down in my bed, thinking about the day, I'm reviewing the encounters i had with you. thinking about what i did, and what it might mean to you. how can i make that more clear for you?

So what is this idea then. Freestyle. I remember taking poetry classes, for free at Urban Word. back when they had that beautiful loft at union sq. and there was some fine ass poetry teacher. i would go hoping he would sit next to me. stand behind me. so i could get some of his beautiful energy radiating out of his loose curly fro. but for the poetry moreso, i would go. they would give us a prompt. freestyle on the idea of... freestyle in an intention of... i remember i was assigned horny as an intention. i was not comfortable freestyling, add being horny to it you u know my shit suckkedd.

but i admired those that could. i wanted to do that. how do you do it? can you just go out in front of people and create something. maybe i need to bring the audience into a cypher. maybe that would help me create the mood. maybe i need to pick some people out.

i was tight. i had to let loose. i had to let go of this idea of what you want. how to please you. if i please me, maybe that pleasure can translate, be shared? maybe if i can accept me i would stop hiding behind some half considered ideas. maybe it would feel less like im wasting your time on stage, if i spent more of my time, endless amounts of time, preparing for this 5 minutes of your time that your giving me right now. i see. i see. its because i have a whole room of ppl, who came together at a certain time to give me their time all at once. so its not exactly a two way street. all the lanes are leading to me. so hopefully i have something at the destination.

right? only what maybe you can see when you come to the right space.

dreaming performance

Today i felt the sleep in my arms. the weight grounded me through a serious of visualized dreams, i could recall this morning. Although I woke at 5:33am ... i decided to go to the bathroom and return to my bed where the series seriously began.

From the onset, I first recal dreaming on a bus. A bus so smooth, and a female driver so precise in her turns, she got the highest ratings. She made turns through narrow pathways between metal pillers under bridges with her bus with all of us, through passages I think I would turn sideways to squeeze in. How she made the sharpest 90 degree turns, I will never know.

She smoothly digressed down a concrete staircase, and we jumped every so often as we descended to the highway below. be it the prospect expressway, or another. close to the end, we took a jump too high and landed slightly on one side and turned over. I held on in an oppositional angle, landing upright as everyone lay sideway underneath the school bus designed seats. I waitied for others to join me. Although the bodies remained under the seats, others joined me on my transition outside. Were they spirits or people, i don't know.

Then i ended up in a water park. My birkenstocks were left floating in the water, and the silver leather went missing. Someone stole my leather, and left my corked sole. Or the leather disintegrated into teh silver water. Later, i learned the leather became brown muddy straps that did not resemble my original sandel. In my search, I found an indian family eating dinner at a celebratory party, which I was simultanoesly invited and shunned away from. As I walked down various passaways, between various groups and parties that continued after the water park celebration, I could not exist anywhere, because I was constantly bound to this fun park, in search for my shoes, my key to the next place.

Performance anxiety has never been more productive, than it has been for me these past days. 10 hours of sleep, and more to be had. I will take an epson salt bath tonight. Holla