divide

i have come to the conclusion that i am the most socially inept human being there is on planet earth. i go to a bar to meet all my sister's friends. while they watch the basketball game on the tv sets sprawled across the walls, i am thinking about activism. i take a napkin and start scribbling ideas about the united nations' role in alleviating poverty --part of it probably triggered by the book i'm reading right now. it's called A Generation Divided. it captures the elements of activism in the 1960's United States. what stirred our people --the young boys and girls, men and women to fight against racism, communism and big governments.

i will talk to someone, look at someone. smile. toast. drink a glass of wine. constantly thinking about foreign aid. how can we make amends to foreign policy. are slums inherently bad? what is the solution to this haggard infrastructure. who creates change? how do we legitimize change?

why can i just not be a normal human being and enjoy that basketball game in a bar, drinking beer and having a good time with friends? essentially socializing and not thinking about activism. i may have a disorder. i don't know. it's possible --i may have to hunt down my DSM from somewhere. yes, i'm pathologizing myself. story of my life!

yuletide

coming back to new york city makes me so very happy. every time. it never fails. never. seeing the sister, friends and family. when i walk around, it's as if i feel every step. there is a firm grip. and there is a certain confidence.

one by one, the lights turn on. jingling and sparkling. and there is a silent cheer. in every thing. and everyone. boy, it's beautiful.

i will keep this short and say, a lot has happened this year. lots of downs, some ups. a blend of emotions. never forgetting, yet moving forward. i say a little prayer for all the loved ones who are no more. little angels, today. they sing hymns to man. their voices, volatile.

there is a certain beauty in asymmetry. and i love it. art, for example. or scarves with tassels. bumping to an arrhythmic gait. and on the streets. i will sit and watch. peoples eyebrows. and the asymmetry and asynchrony of movements. so bizarre. so spectacular.

merry christmas.

all pictures by MDL

a-synchrony

those tales that disappear. are alive. and dead. in a swish. in a swirl. they are here. tonight. peeling skin from my soul.

the soul that traces a lineage of dreams. the dreams that scowl in ravenous hegemony. and the shrill of the timpani. the raga of stars. are asleep on the cradle. of destiny. and continents. submerged. as if your heart were on a flute. piping melodies of beats. the carousel of blood is awake on the clouds.

and you, my gentle pearl. welcome to my sweat. the chariot of diamonds breathe nightingales of dawn. like a glass box. parents of truce. and trance and idiosyncracy. we will pause. and bow our tongues. and knit our veins. one by one, from the yarn of fools. the caricature of breaths will sparkle on my fist. these fingers of tune. these nails of rhyme. this menagerie of lust. these pebble stones of fire. the sweat. the rush. the slush of blood and silken ova. they give birth to the archaeology of dance. the footsteps of tomorrow. this ballet has begun.

in your womb. so organic and pure. i have lost my self. the pout of cotton. the lips. feel them. they are wet with rage. this is a time of confusion.