i started this blog, thinking that maybe it would help streamline communications for those of us working on specific projects that i direct. also, i am interested in keeping up with our process: how we interact, what themes and issues arise for us; how we grow within this project; and how we're inspired by ideas, images, and by one another. a document for posterity. to remind me what worked and why.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Jose Marti poem
No. 5 from Simple Verses - by Jose Marti
If you see a hill of foam
It is my poetry that you see:
My poetry is a mountain
And is also a feather fan.
My poems are like a dagger
Sprouting flowers from the hilt;
My poetry is like a fountain
Sprinkling streams of coral water.
My poems are light green
And flaming red;
My poetry is a wounded deer
Looking for the forest's sanctuary.
My poems please the brave:
My poems, short and sincere,
Have the force of steel
Which forges swords.
If you see a hill of foam
It is my poetry that you see:
My poetry is a mountain
And is also a feather fan.
My poems are like a dagger
Sprouting flowers from the hilt;
My poetry is like a fountain
Sprinkling streams of coral water.
My poems are light green
And flaming red;
My poetry is a wounded deer
Looking for the forest's sanctuary.
My poems please the brave:
My poems, short and sincere,
Have the force of steel
Which forges swords.
excerpt from DROWN by Junot Diaz
Junot Díaz, Fiction,
“How To Date A Brown Girl (black girl, white girl, or halfie)
Wait until your brother, your sisters, and your mother leave the apartment.
You've already told them that you were feeling too sick to go to Union City to visit that tia who likes to squeeze your nuts. And even though your moms knew you weren't sick you stuck to your story until finally she said, Go ahead and stay, malcriado.
Clear the government cheese from the refrigerator. If the girl's from the Terrace, stack the boxes in the crisper. If she's from the Park or Society Hill, then hide the cheese in the cabinet above the oven, where she'll never see it. Leave a reminder under your pillow to get out the cheese before morning or your moms will kick your ass.
Take down embarrassing photos. Since your toilet can't flush toilet paper, put the bucket with all the crapped-on toilet paper under the sink. Shower, comb, dress. Sit on the couch and watch TV. If she's an outsider her father will bring her, maybe her mother. If she's a white girl, you're sure you'll at least get a hand job. After an hour she arrives and says her mom wants to meet you. Run a hand through your hair like the white boys do, even though the only thing that runs easily through your hair is Africa.
White girls are the ones you want most, aren't they? If she's a halfie don't be surprised that her mother is the white one. If the girl's from around the way, take her to El Cibao for dinner. If she's not, Wendy's will do. Hope that you don't run into your nemesis, Howie, the two-hundred pound Puerto Rican kid with the two killer mutts. A halfie will tell you her parents met in the Movement. Back then, she'll say, people thought it was a radical thing to do. You'll wonder how she feels about Dominicans.
Pollutants have made Jersey sunsets one of the wonders of the world. Point it out. Get serious. Watch TV. A local girl will have hips and a nice ass but won't be quick about letting you touch her. A white girl might give it up right then. Don't stop her. She'll say, I like Spanish guys, and even though you've never been to Spain, say, I like you. You'll be with her until about eight-thirty, and then she'll want to wash up. After she leaves the phone will ring. Don't answer it. Don't fall asleep. Put the government cheese back in its place before your moms kills you.
“How To Date A Brown Girl (black girl, white girl, or halfie)
Wait until your brother, your sisters, and your mother leave the apartment.
You've already told them that you were feeling too sick to go to Union City to visit that tia who likes to squeeze your nuts. And even though your moms knew you weren't sick you stuck to your story until finally she said, Go ahead and stay, malcriado.
Clear the government cheese from the refrigerator. If the girl's from the Terrace, stack the boxes in the crisper. If she's from the Park or Society Hill, then hide the cheese in the cabinet above the oven, where she'll never see it. Leave a reminder under your pillow to get out the cheese before morning or your moms will kick your ass.
Take down embarrassing photos. Since your toilet can't flush toilet paper, put the bucket with all the crapped-on toilet paper under the sink. Shower, comb, dress. Sit on the couch and watch TV. If she's an outsider her father will bring her, maybe her mother. If she's a white girl, you're sure you'll at least get a hand job. After an hour she arrives and says her mom wants to meet you. Run a hand through your hair like the white boys do, even though the only thing that runs easily through your hair is Africa.
White girls are the ones you want most, aren't they? If she's a halfie don't be surprised that her mother is the white one. If the girl's from around the way, take her to El Cibao for dinner. If she's not, Wendy's will do. Hope that you don't run into your nemesis, Howie, the two-hundred pound Puerto Rican kid with the two killer mutts. A halfie will tell you her parents met in the Movement. Back then, she'll say, people thought it was a radical thing to do. You'll wonder how she feels about Dominicans.
Pollutants have made Jersey sunsets one of the wonders of the world. Point it out. Get serious. Watch TV. A local girl will have hips and a nice ass but won't be quick about letting you touch her. A white girl might give it up right then. Don't stop her. She'll say, I like Spanish guys, and even though you've never been to Spain, say, I like you. You'll be with her until about eight-thirty, and then she'll want to wash up. After she leaves the phone will ring. Don't answer it. Don't fall asleep. Put the government cheese back in its place before your moms kills you.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Wall fabrics are part of set, eventually get peeled off...
...by the performers and pulled on as garment pieces.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)