tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71549396054326035062024-03-13T16:55:02.207-07:00Exformation"exformation is everything we do not actually say but have in our heads when or before we say anything at all.”TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-14951760899273391902010-12-09T19:32:00.000-08:002010-12-09T19:33:32.964-08:00In Response to the God(s) of Ecumenical Politics<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:documentproperties> <o:template>Normal.dotm</o:Template> <o:revision>0</o:Revision> <o:totaltime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:pages>1</o:Pages> <o:words>64</o:Words> <o:characters>367</o:Characters> <o:company>New York University</o:Company> <o:lines>3</o:Lines> <o:paragraphs>1</o:Paragraphs> <o:characterswithspaces>450</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:version>12.0</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b><o:p></o:p><span style="font-family: lucida grande;">Breathe me, the power:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; font-family: lucida grande;">twos bend over the back of hard labor</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; font-family: lucida grande;">nines slit their wrists over the kitchen counter</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; font-family: lucida grande;">Threes are serial injectors, stealing catharsis as trophies</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; font-family: lucida grande;">Fives claw, lungs scoured clean</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; font-family: lucida grande;">Fours scream black and bloody against the electric sizzle of </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; font-family: lucida grande;">bare cattleprods</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; font-family: lucida grande;">Ones smoke cigarettes calmly, on the curb,</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; font-family: lucida grande;"><span style=""> </span>waiting</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; font-family: lucida grande;">and sixes provide cannon fodder, </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; font-family: lucida grande;">ashing the cache of science</p> <!--EndFragment-->TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-13210457673949078042010-04-29T17:19:00.001-07:002010-05-08T16:49:03.526-07:00Kaikeiyi (Draft IV)<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:documentproperties> <o:template>Normal.dotm</o:Template> <o:revision>0</o:Revision> <o:totaltime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:pages>1</o:Pages> <o:words>225</o:Words> <o:characters>1285</o:Characters> <o:company>New York University</o:Company> <o:lines>10</o:Lines> <o:paragraphs>2</o:Paragraphs> <o:characterswithspaces>1578</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:version>12.0</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:.6in .9in .6in .9in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="">The king of Ayodhya, Dashranata, wants to crown one of his son’s Rama as king of Ayodhya. However one of his wives, Kaikeyi, has her mind “poisoned” against Rama and his mother Kausalya and seeks to displace them in favor of her and her son. Many years prior to this she had saved the life of the king and been granted two boons- she claims them now to have Rama disinherited and her son Bharat installed as king.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><i style=""><o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mother may I?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Son you shall. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">*</p> <p class="MsoNormal">patrimony is always an uncertain proposition, </p> <p class="MsoNormal">lineage only identifiable in</p> <p class="MsoNormal">the folds of a silk sari and the smooth slide of golden bangles</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Counterpoint to the swath of sweat clinging to your distended sides</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Chanting furiously through the</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Wet pains of contractions </p> <p class="MsoNormal">A portion of divinity wrung out in every gasping breath</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">*</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">A mother’s love for her child is idolatry, </p> <p class="MsoNormal">(Not the crimson spotted handkerchief called martyrdom)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Fear not for the curves of meat</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Bathe the boy in the milk </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Of your regard</p> <p class="MsoNormal">There is no mother’s love that is</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Yielding, that does not cut both ways</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Viciously.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">His limpid boyhood will be eclipsed by the</p> <p class="MsoNormal">transcendent fury of his ascension</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">*</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">For love of sons we make</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Enemies of men</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Motherhood is a strange armor</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And we wear it, ceaseless</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Strapped to the legs to </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Keep us sinking. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mothers and martyrs</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The love that lets itself be</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Wounded must be terrifying</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Tyrannical, despotic in </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Standing and striding through a hail of arrows</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Risking the perfumed cascade of </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Twilight hours to secure my </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Progeny, is another word for sacrifice</p> <p class="MsoNormal">That contains all the elements of injury:</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Scar, fire</p> <!--EndFragment-->TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-38689300614229562442009-06-20T10:58:00.000-07:002009-06-20T11:44:13.433-07:00Timely is the GardenFlowering in insurrection<br />What blooms under glass never expands<br /><br />Let us be defiant<br />Scatter the matted ashes<br />and begin again in the fullness of our time<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(Tehran, Tehran, Tehran- a shadowed dream of sunshine and beaten rugs hanging exposed. Tehran Tehran Tehran- exsisting only in my father's language and inattention to detail.)<br /><br />Let us be defiant<br />Tear down the scattered paintings<br />shroud ourselves in shrapnel<br />if martyrdom is the cause to which we will degrade ourselves<br />then these flesh-ridden bulleted skeletons march<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;">When I grow up- (in lieu of my nativity which is approaching perniciously)<br /></span></span></span></span><br />When I grow up my father will buy me a<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span></span>pony<br />so that later, in the street, I will not starve<br /><br />When I grow up I will be an astronaut<br />hermetically sealed in a miasma of my own excretion<br /><br />When I grow up I want to be in movies<br />freezing myself forward through the design of my intent<br /><br />When I grow up I will plant a flower for every love<br />so that I may walk forever in my garden<br /><br />When I grow up I will find Area 51<br />and beg them to send me home<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: lucida grande;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-20863039263067545572009-06-07T14:04:00.000-07:002009-06-07T14:11:53.042-07:00Imperative (Not a Pejorative (not necessarily))Be a good boy drink all your fruits and vegetables and process the plastics and toxins that you need<br /><br />For instance: Eat the HoHo and the wrapper to avoid pollution and to bring your nutritional absorption slightly out of the red<br /><br />Don't worry, by the time you are big enough my baby boy they will be making organic whole wheat Ho-Hos with fresh cream and a triumphant man will address you from the box and claim that finally we are making progress<br /><br />Saving the planet is something I plan to do before I am fifty. And die. But by then we will have cut you into roughly the shape we want you to be and I am sure you will be totally capable of filing down the detail<br /><br />Scribble Two:<br /><br />The essence of this life is the jaw cracking in agony, a slow festering that imobilizes the mouth and cuts down the clavicle.<br /><br />All I am is hunger, a yawning black maw that cries futility for that which is intolerable to it. A yearning for breadth, for depth. Cut back the flesh and peel the bulbous veins from it's surface- Cmon doc I want to boldly go where no man has gone before.TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-51026921305121259342009-02-28T20:06:00.001-08:002009-02-28T20:15:55.924-08:00Startin' somethingso hey I am an artist sort of<br /><br />so word poems from here on out I guess, until I can think of something better. this is the refuse, the post-it note throwaway poem/prose space. So I can wad these ideas up and toss them out<br /><br />Believe indoctrination<br />the senseless violence that calls itself victory<br />and threes are serial injectors, stealing catharsis as trophies<br /><br />I will not be a king or a martyr or a lunatic or a fool<br />I live endless, swirled<br />mired in the paint and slashed in syllables<br />cut from the cloth that<br />is the only gift a man will buy you<br /><br />I write happy poems when<br />I safely despise every inch of you<br />when I shine incandescent from within my bulbous veins<br />not ever sugar makes me manic<br />spikes the core of me solidTheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-39341312943246879492008-12-04T15:16:00.000-08:002010-04-29T17:18:31.773-07:00FirenzeIt was pouring on election day and my phone died and I was STARVING and frustrated by the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">minuscule</span> size of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">italian</span> sidewalks.<br /><br />then heather found me huddling under <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">san</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">pietro</span>, in the shadow of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">brunelleschi's</span> dome and opposite <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Ghiberti's</span> dome. she took me home and wined me (cheap Chianti--better then water!) and then took me out to election night party where i saw a professor and a live country band and ate free food all night.<br /><br /><br />then dancing and wine and secret bakeries studded in the winding avenues of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">firenze</span>TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-8192715704754921302008-12-04T15:09:00.000-08:002008-12-04T15:16:04.996-08:00VeneziaOh my Venezia.<br /><br />well first Milano Centrale-- 14 hours spent in the station sleeping on wooden bench and freezing to death and starving and being generally miserable. it was also a night of superb bladder control. 12pm to 6am though i only lasted till 3am before doing something highly illegal. and to all the sketchy men of Milano Centrale--va funculo! I piss on all of you. such depravation though i tell you.<br /><br />so of course, first thing in venezia I devoured a gigantic pizza the size of my face--and got into a friendly conversation about Obama. christ it was a delicious day.<br /><br />then the piazza de san marco and il rialto and the palazzo il doge and wandering wandering wandering, footloose and fancy free and BED under pink sheets in a pink room with a purple plastic rhinestone chandelier. pain di something or other smothered in nutella and six bowls of cornflakes in the morning. gorgeous gorgeous sleep and a beautiful puppyTheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-29018935158838339132008-12-04T15:05:00.000-08:002008-12-04T15:29:49.443-08:00MilanoSo Italy. Mio Dia. Bella<br /><br />Milano is an ugly little town, exquisitely fuctional shall we say. Covered in graffitti and populated with cheap food joints--with of course the requisite fashion stores. I stood in the shadow of gorgio armani and I can't say I felt inspired.<br /><br />Heather and I in La Scalla, Il Duomo and other unsavory places--plus the best snack foods in all italy. gram parvesi--if only i could eat you without feeling ill at the end of it. and the delicious delicious cookies. what a repast!<br /><br />Halloween was a sad affair, i dressed up my voice and we the scots and the aussie lass sat supping in the neighborhood bar with the local kiddiesTheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-80979794911298206262008-09-24T13:59:00.001-07:002010-04-29T17:15:16.404-07:00A Beach in Britain??!Yea though I have walked along the pebbled shores of pain, my feet remain curiously untroubled.<br /><br />First though was the literary <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">festival</span>. I kind of enjoy the atmosphere of literary festivals--its so rare to see so many people arrogantly posturing at the same time though I have never been to a political convention either. I'm a registered <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">nonregister</span> if you know what I mean.<br /><br /><br /><br />Anne <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Enright</span> is forthright and fabulous. A short haired Irish mother who wields fuck as an adjective, noun and adverb (I have my views on profanity in writing which is as long as you can read it without blushing you're alright)--and a superb voice weaver. She wrote the most wonderful story of a mother and jilted wife that made me want to sigh. Go. Get her short stories. DEVOUR them. shes fantastic<br /><br />Lionel <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Shriver</span> (who is in fact a woman) read Richard Yates, the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">forgotten</span> American short story man of the Sixties. Highlights included watching a trailer for Revolutionary Road which has never been seen before ever, listening to her read the story and then just listening to her, gloomy as all get out and fantastic. A cynic with a sense of humor. Her best advice is that compassion is the writers best tool which I think we forget in this age of our sense of grandeur and our adherence to our petty personal pity parades. Also there was a woman there who had lived in the Village in the Sixties and actually knew Richard Yates--an morose soggy alcoholic apparently--which is more proof to me that anything good or entertaining in this world happened in NYC first<br /><br />But I ventured into the English countryside--dung patties, cows and huge unexpected red birds flying from out of corn rows and all<br /><br />Next post- BrightonTheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-25424303561329061682008-09-19T09:19:00.001-07:002008-09-19T09:29:01.947-07:00Deep Scottish Love (not ever an illegal substance)having been and returned and slept I think i have more perspective then I did before.<br /><br />The Highlands are the impeachable majesty of Scotland, the most endurable legacy to their fierce pride that chafes in the memory of generations of Scots. One day- not today or tomorrow- but someday they will walk away from the UK. Its so different in Scotland- none of the polyethnic hybridization that cartwheels through Britain. I dont think I've ever been so concious of absence and it was unnerving.<br /><br />Having said that I would cheerfully walk forever through the heathered hills. I love sing a longs, even in tiny hostel bars as much as i love wee scottish discotechques full of balding men in pageboy caps that close at 1 am. I want to go down face first in a faerie brook and come out bubbling the other side. if i ever go again, im going hiking in the summer and im swimming in the loch ness.<br /><br />Don't think I'd ever do a group tour like that again, but thats more my fault then their's. i can get excited by white horses but ill never care (yes that was code). But i know i can do it on my own now, which is more important to me then anything else. as long as i have one friend in this world I can go it alone<br /><br />Also Edinburgh is the most tiny toy like urban center I have ever seen. Also Sticky Toffee Pudding is worth every ounce of fat that drips down the sides. Shortbread and Oatcakes to see you on your way.<br /><br />NEXT STOP IRELAND!TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-10050004604561187062008-09-06T17:25:00.000-07:002008-09-06T17:32:56.582-07:00Time TravelerBad mornings begin when fatigue drags down the body and aches in the spaces of bones. Today was a bad morning.<br /><br />but I sallied forth--into a crypt and an amazing display of light art glowing and pulsing in the pungent bowels of the earth.<br /><br />then off to the Wellcome Museum where I discovered that someone somewhere thought a penis with a hat was a fertility aid. Also I toured the bodies buried under Tube stops and McDonalds all over London.<br /><br />Finally the British Museum and the elegance of invaders. Sometimes I can't help but think of it as an elegy to empire, and marvel at the shamelessness of plunder. and then I leave<br /><br />(Also I wonder what we will display when we talk about Iraq, Cuba, Africa, Afghanistan. When we write our history in placards and crafted exhibits. And then I leave)<br /><br />But what ho! Scotland on the horizon?!! EGads am I doing something with my time?! Watson this is BRILLIANTTheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-24793588011317243632008-09-05T13:55:00.001-07:002008-09-05T13:58:18.047-07:00Did I mention--Thursday saw Ordinary Differentials off to a start as well as<br /><br />Marylebourne, Bakers Street, Regents Park and the floating houseboat chinoisere, bits of Camden that is just like home, and my infatuation with all grocery stores that are not Tesco<br /><br />Behold the beauty of vegetable cutlets!<br /><br /> and then the Big CHill House to wind the evening down rightTheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-15578497982751722602008-08-31T04:08:00.000-07:002010-04-29T17:11:04.854-07:00Cheers From BritainThis is the first time I feel cheerfully inclined towards the place; possibly because my sun returned to me. She even revolved endlessly in the brilliant blue sky<br /><br />Oxford Street is icky (scientifically exact terminology) in its wealth.<br />Hyde Park is huge<br />and the National Royal Theater is BRILLiANT<br /><br />you gotta love a play about lesbian suffragettes who slit their wrists on stage. You HAVE to<br /><br />and then fireworks and works of fire. crazy people setting themselves on fire which would be immolation except they were being paid.<br /><br />its no New York but its good enough for nowTheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-6420360404047730492008-04-20T15:59:00.000-07:002008-04-20T16:01:43.210-07:00ENTER NEW YEAR stage centerstrange times backwards and forwards i'd say in general<br /><br />much too little time in sum (and way too much knowledge is trying to cram its way into this tiny brain)<br /><br />more talk and less sleep!TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-53165841105051168522007-12-19T17:46:00.000-08:002007-12-19T18:34:21.728-08:00No Rest for the wickedso is there a word for life coming together slowly?<br /><br />a mass of pieces slowly melting into a tangible solid? (no not an acid trip...really)<br /><br />I got told today by someone much older and friendlier and better that I seem like someone with a goal, mature even (which is a deeply disturbing idea). It's like being told you're beautiful/handsome--you wont ever believe them but the thought is wonderful.<br /><br />Vacation has begun and although i do not expect sleep to embrace me in her chafting fishnet embrace, I hope to see the Sandman at at least some point...<br /><br />I am not a good college student. I dont enjoy sleeping very much.TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-84469054284700876982007-12-03T08:29:00.000-08:002007-12-03T08:37:03.741-08:00Hi Worldso You and I...we've had some rough times lately.<br /><br />You took my laptop to the tune of two weeks and many hundreds of dollars.<br /><br />but I forgive you.<br /><br />If I live through finals we should have a party.<br /><br />a sleep party.TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-84187144724583608732007-10-07T19:57:00.000-07:002007-10-07T20:09:23.381-07:00EdgeToday is the day that I am going to die.<br /><br />I watched a woman struggle with herself, laugh, cry, have a psychotic breakdown, commit suicide and rise from the dead over and over endlessly like Lazarus only she left pieces of herself behind every time. <br /><br />and then it was intermission. Edge is the story of Sylvia Plath and her "suicide" and the poet-laureate Ted Hughes, adulterer, black magic warlock, and the center of his universe.<br /><br />There aren't a lot of words that I can use to sum up that expeirence. Intense, pure, exhilirating. I actually talked with the lady actress and she shook my hand and I am never washing it again. it literally tingled with the electricity of her prescene.<br /><br />and I met Henry Chang the man behind the steamy noir haze of Chinatown Beat. i liked him and his yo's and dudes and subtle philosophy. I think i want to be him when I grow up. Comfortable in my skin and my passion.TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-41166868109511482512007-09-06T22:30:00.000-07:002007-09-06T22:52:26.279-07:00Pull my DaisyI love this city.<br /><br />This week alone I have been to Lincoln Center and heard the ultimate cosmic goodness that is Michael Palin read and talk about his life in the circus of Monty Python. The trek was ardous and strewn with the incomprehensible color coding of the NYC subways but I made it and back and was delirously happy. I hadn't believed the man actually exsisted until i saw him in person.<br /><br />I just, heard, saw, and was the amazing David Amram who spoke about his expierences with Jack Kerouac at the Bowery Poetry Center in the Village. One slighty schizoid BBC talk show host in tight black pants made the evening hilarious, but this man, a Soprano's actor made the evening golden. His readings from Kerouac made me happy, made me think, made me feel...the man damn near made me cry when he read the farewell passage between Kerouac and Cassidy which is all the more poignant because its one sided and <span style="font-style: italic;">deep</span>. The improv between the musicians (6-7 depending on the mood of the sax) and the poets forced you to groove.<br /><br />Charlie Parker, Pull my Daisy, Life on the ROad, Mrs. Keurac, hip my angel, girls in white underpants, Egyptian flutes, Native Indian drums, the man of a thousand instruements, being in Colorado under the endless night in the roof of the world, the eastern wildernessTheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-43738161809312931522007-08-23T16:36:00.000-07:002007-08-23T16:43:32.701-07:00And it's 3,2,1...It's amazing the kind of junk you can accumulate in your brief lifespan. It's equal parts cathartic and <span style="font-style: italic;">horrifying</span> to sort through the rubbish that shores up on the fringe of daily life. Why didn't anyone stop me?<br /><br />sigh<br /><br />We're officially counting down now. Three days.TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-46845032958673691972007-08-10T13:52:00.000-07:002007-08-10T13:57:04.768-07:00Home, boys, Homewell the good news (broadly speaking) is I made it back. Nothing exploded, no luggage was lost and I was not forced to kill any airline personnel although I was sorely tempted. No matter how many times you look at the little screen a set of charcoal pencils will never be dynamite. Never.<br /><br />There's this sort of ecstatic high that comes from being back in your own stomping grounds, no matter how great the trip was. The sense of your place in the universe asserts itself and for a moment you can appreciate the harmony of the pattern which you were so determined to break from.<br /><br />Alert the press! I'm back.TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-25618437983797529622007-07-30T07:23:00.000-07:002007-07-30T07:28:13.027-07:00Sacre Bleu! Invaders!Alas this last bastion within which I could bask in my adolescent melodrama is now being breached.<br /><br />The sanctuary is ruined, as surely as the white pillar of Ilium lay scattered on the sands after the sacking of Troy.<br /><br />It's time to do a little housecleaning. Farewell little corner of obscurity! I shall ruminate on you fondly.<br /><br />AdieuTheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-41523611710373505282007-06-25T15:43:00.000-07:002007-06-25T15:44:53.919-07:00My name is OzymandiusThis shall be my tiny shrine to myself. I will lay down virtual rose petals and worship at my feet.<br /><br /><br />actually on reflection that sounds kind of exhausting.<br /><br />Washington awaits the circuses arrival with baited breath I'm sure. Four hours...sighTheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-91342580517472376752007-04-17T17:29:00.000-07:002007-04-17T17:33:28.074-07:00EscapismI have come to the unavoidable conclusion:<br /><br />that some people in this world genuinely do not like poetry<br />the patch does <strong>not</strong> work<br /><br />and that given the choice between french grammar and blogging, well it's not even a conscious choice anymore.<br /><br />help me. I'm sinking and I may drown.TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7154939605432603506.post-4476278850289537262007-04-16T13:02:00.000-07:002007-04-16T13:11:05.931-07:00Il etait une fois...(the almost fairytale beginning)This is the beginning of something glorious. I just don't know what that is yet.<br /><br />This is like launching bottles of the side of a speeding ship. Are vodka soaked wishes more or less precious?<br /><br />Anyway today is day one of the rest of the rest of my life. Lets just keep this revelation quiet for now.<br /><br />P.S.: to anyone who has ever seen Mel Brook's Spaceballs I think you'll get the name.<br /><br /><em>"Who are you?"</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>"I'm the Bearded Lady. What are you, one of the <strong>freaks</strong>?"</em>TheBeardedLadyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04356891546341304058noreply@blogger.com0