Songs YOU need to download. 9/26/06

It's that time again!!!! The happy day I get to force some music down your throats in a desperate attempt to spread my love of bands I am listening to right now. Look into my fuzzy eyes above and let me hypnotize you and push my opinion a little more.

"Lonely, Lonely"-Feist
This seems to be the CD I am burning for everyone recently and one that has had 100% success when converting people into fans. This CD hits all the moods and this song is beautiful in the changes it takes from beginning to end.

"Enjoy"-Janet Jackson
Okay, she's back (fully clothed...sometimes) and her new CD is pretty great. This song in particular is just fun old school Janet Jackson. Perfect for walking home from work, I would be stunned if you listen to it and don't smile. Check it out below.


"Bastard"-Ben Folds
Inspiration for the title of one of my blogs down below, this is a great song about the realities of growing older.

"She's My Man"-Scissor Sisters
"Paul McCartney"-Scissor Sisters
Perhaps the CD I have been most eagerly anticipating recently, I just got it and its full of some good but not great songs. For those of you who don't know the "Sisters", you should. Immediately. Download their debut CD and then pick up the brand new "Ta Dah" album. While not QUITE up to the level of the first CD its still just the perfect pump me up music. Although some of my favorite music is stuff that I disliked the first couple of times so I might worship this album by the end of the week.
SCISSOR SISTERS MY SPACE!

"When You Were Young"-The Killers
Just got their new CD and actually listening to it as I write. Another completely irresistible group this is my current "crunches" song at the gym. I know you were dying to know that.

Until next time......

Random Musings....

You know you are exhausted when the subway stairs look like Mt. Everest. I am lucky enough to not have to ride the subway to work, therefore limiting my subway time usually to the weekends. Today though, in between rehearsals, I ran to get my haircut and had no idea sitting in a chair could be so exhausting! Usually a therapeutic time for me, I could barely form words today when talking to my amazing stylist Lisa at Dop Dop! I was just hoping she wouldn’t have to mop up my drool along with my shorn hair. Luckily I stayed awake but as I am sitting here typing this I just want to doze off.
That could only mean one thing….

WORK IS IN FULL SWING! I am constantly amazed and depressed at how quickly stamina flushes down the toilet. At peak form nearly two months ago, I hear everyone at work grumbling over the aches and pains that accompany the frenzied climb back to top form. Where does it go? The other day in the studio (where the above picture was taken) I was talking to David and Gillian about how little of the human brain we actually use. We tried to imagine a world where we used 70% of our brains and maybe that would be a place where mental stamina would trump physical fatigue. For not only am I feeling muscles that I forgot existed, but my brain seems to be close to forgetting my own name.

Of course the past three weeks have been especially insane for me, attempting to squeeze rehearsals for my choreographic debut in between ABT rehearsals. I’m a juggler with no coordination. The good news is that the piece is nearly done. The bad news is that so are my body and brain.

(Lara sets the mood for typical behavior on a break between rehearsals.)

My source of inspiration recently has been an incredible biography on Willem De Kooning but words are almost too much to handle after a long day of work. I look forward to having some time to sit down and focus on it soon, but is free time soon even a possibility?! Every artist needs inspiration but are we supposed to be able to squeeze that in too?

Part of what I love about City Center season is the chance to see so many different types of works going on at once. Attempting to choreograph is both blessed and cursed by this. It seems like all my ideas stem from what I was just rehearsing until I push past that and let my own ideas flow out. Back to that world with 70% brain use, maybe our ideas really would be endless. I have fallen victim to the belief that “everything has been done before.” While that’s not a true statement, it can be a disheartening thought.

So as I sit here whining about my predicament I want to apologize if the blog seems a little neglected recently. “After a long day at work (“The Comeback” Fans can complete that)” lifting my arms to type gets trumped by lifting the remote. More to come soon, I promise!

Life as "Science."

Fall is always exciting because it means that the craptastic movies of the summer are over! Finally previews that you have been seeing all summer are beginning to materialize and expectations are either met or crushed. One movie that I have been waiting for for quite some time is “The Science of Sleep,” which I saw today. My expectations were neither met nor crushed but instead I left feeling a little indifferent towards it.

Written and directed by Michel Gondry (of “Eternal Sunshine” fame) the movie is a trippy look into how different people perceive and distort reality. The main character waltzes in and out of his dreams and real life until he can’t quite seem to keep them straight. It’s a visually pleasing film and I love the kind of “imperfect” camera work that Gondry brings to his movies. Unfortunately, that imperfection translates to the entire movie this time and at moments it seems like a confusing mess. Even in that confusion though, the performances of Gael Garcia Bernal and Charlotte Gainsbourg are charming enough to keep you interested.

It ends up being an interesting look at how our mind can play tricks on us and the comfort that living in a dreamland can bring you. Free of inhibitions in dreams, people are able to enact their wildest fantasies, confront their fears, and lose themselves. Those wild fantasies are often handled in a fun animated fashion throughout the movie, which adds to both the excitement and the confusion. Like “Eternal Sunshine” the ideas of being able to alter things comes up a lot and what the affect on our lives would be were we able to.

It’s always refreshing to see a movie where the love stories aren’t handled in a cookie-cutter manner. It never hurts to reiterate the fact that life is NOT a movie but this movie comes close to realistically portraying what real life friendships/love interests are like. Embracing the imperfections of life can be difficult but when forced to wake up and face them it allows a sense of freedom.

To me this is more of an interesting “art-project” than a brilliant film but it is sure to spark conversation with whomever you go with. After a summer full of “Superman,” and “Mission Impossible,” conversation after a movie might feel foreign but that’s not always a bad thing.
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Lazy Post of the Day. Simple vs. Seizure.

Sitting in a daze this morning, spooning my bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, I was suddenly brought out of my coma by the sound of Regina Spektor coming from the TV. It's so nice to see VH1 playing her video in an attempt to get the country aware of this incredible talent. Somehow I have a feeling it will end the same way the "Scissor Sisters" did, where even with VH1 the results were pretty dismal. The whole design of this video is spectacular, of course you can't go too wrong with black and white, but the end is great as well. I cannot wait to see her live next week!

On the opposite end of the spectrum is the new video for Ms. Janet Jackson. I am a huge fan and personally think the whole nipplegate thing is one of many events that our country wasted time on instead of focusing on real issues. However, this video kind of makes me feel like I am having a seizure. She is an incredible dancer, the choreography is great, but you can barely see it in this video. Plus, when you are known for such a huge breast baring scandal, probably not the most tasteful special effect to have your top "miraculously" pop off. But I guess with lyrics such as "I'll open my spot for you, any time you want me to," I shouldn't expect any clothes to be on. I just wish it was a long shot of her and her dancers just doing the choreography! Would be so much better! Does anyone like to view images like a strobe light?!

"The More You Know, You Know You Don't Know Shit." -Ben Folds

I am sitting looking at this old photo right now and realized that I have a little over a week before high school comes rushing back to me. Since I moved to the city I have only had the chance to go back and visit NCSA twice. Part of the problem with going to a boarding school is that for the majority of peoples families aren't located there, so visiting becomes problematic. I knew as I hugged my friends goodbye outside of the dorms on graduation day that it would probably be the last time we were all in the same place. Over the past few years some have come to visit, either on their own or with companies, but the majority are merely friends on MySpace now. Oh what the world has come to!

There are conflicting feelings inside of me; I feel guilty being excited to be going to NC when the reason I am going is so upsetting. Melissa Hayden’s passing still hasn’t quite sunken in yet and I know that seeing the halls without her presence is going to be startling. Even when she didn’t sound like Darth Vader, with her humming respirator that popped up once every year or so, you knew she was there. Without getting too much into her passing, I just realize more and more how different the school must be.

When I went back in Studio Company to dance, things were more or less the same from when I had departed. There were old friends but the setting was different. The school that I had grown up with was being bulldozed to make way for new buildings developing all over the place. As my life was rushing forward so was the school. Foolish of me to think that it could never change. When I came back the following year, most of the faces were new but there was still such a comfort. Looking onto this picture I chuckle (yes, I use that word) at the worries I thought I had then. Going into total clichéd territory now, it’s funny how high school drama has NOTHING on the drama afterwards. Or is that just what time does to drama, makes it all seem miniscule in hindsight?

Suddenly I feel like things have come full circle and that same fear that I had leaving NCSA mirrors the fear I have of returning. How have we all changed? It has only been three years but when we have stretched out to different corners of the country, who knows what we have all turned into. Seeing as NCSA doesn’t really have “reunions” in the typical sense of the word, this memorial weekend is going to be the closest thing I probably will ever get to a high school reunion. I have a feeling I am going to be bi-polar the whole weekend. Elated at the prospect of seeing everyone, but dealing with the reality of Ms. Hayden being gone. Change is a frustrating concept but sometimes it just has to be dealt with head on. (Cue NBC’s “The More You Know” music now.)
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The Mood? Energetically Frightened.

I have an exciting announcement to make: the first performance of my choreography is happening soon! As nervous as that makes me to say it is also incredibly exciting. As some readers may know, I worked on a version of the Snow scene from Nutcracker this summer for a studio in Montana. That was my very first attempt at choreographing since I was 12, but come October, I will have my first public showing. Over the past week or so I selected a Shostakovich string quartet to use to choreograph a duet for my friend Blaine and I. This has long been one of my favorite pieces of music and I love it so much that my biggest fear is that I will not be able to do it justice. With a little over 3 weeks to get it all together in between rehearsals at ABT, I am keeping myself up at night as bolts of inspiration come my way.

A while back I had mentioned that Terry Bartlett has offered me a chance to choreograph for “Dance Off!” at P.S. 122. At first hesitant, I had a moment of “what the fuck am I thinking” clarity last week and decided to take the plunge. Even with the high probability of it being less than spectacular I at least want to give it a try. So I set my mind to work on doing something fun for Blaine and I to attempt.

Feeling like I couldn’t really make it much of a “story” in four minutes I decided to just play around with a few ideas. First and foremost, “who’s tempting who?” If relationships can be summed up as leader and follower, then who takes the role and is it always clear? By playing with the way the energy is pushed around I hope to acknowledge with this idea. Just because a person is “in front” does that mean they are the leader? Or can the leader manipulate the energy from behind? I know that all sounds a little vague.

The video above is from earlier today which was the first time Blaine and I worked on it together. Ever since we have been 14 I have enjoyed dancing with Blaine so much that I knew he was perfect to help me out with this. Having the ability to pick up and retain things better than anyone I know, Blaine learned what you are watching above in about thirty minutes or so. The beginning is a little more solid than the rest of it but you can see some of it beginning to form. There are definitely several “blank out” moments on the video but I thought it might be fun to show something that is MAJORLY in development. You lose some of it because we had no one to film it and just set the camera on the piano. The later part of the video includes some stuff with both of us that I was working on by myself today, but it will give some you ideas of what it is. Enjoy!

Have It Your Way in the BK. Brooklyn, not Burger King, Dumbo! (Weekend Adventure Part 2 of 2.)

My sister must be one of the busiest people that I know. Between being a Pilates teacher and a dancer she has a seemingly endless schedule and an amount of stamina and energy usually reserved only for triathlon athletes. I get to see her frequently enough but due to our competing schedules, don’t get to see her dance as often as I would like to.

Feeling full of excitement and energy after my gallery hopping on Saturday, I boarded the spacecraft known as the F train to journey to the planet Brooklyn. Okay, that sentence came across as completely snobbish and it wasn’t supposed to be that way. I wish I knew Brooklyn better, and when I go I think it is amazing, just don’t make it very much; therefore the reference to outer space.

Happy that I didn’t get lost, I excited the train with Ben Fold’s blasting through my ipod giving me that “no worries” Brooklyn attitude. The gods of perfect timing brought my friend Libby and I together immediately as I excited the Subway and we walked toward the waterfront, melting all the way.

The area of Dumbo is so cool with its giant brick warehouses, funky little restaurants, and diverse crowd but most importantly its nude sunbather by the water. Okay, okay, take out the nude sunbather and then you have the coolest part. Carson’s performance was down right by the Brooklyn Bridge in an old triangular brick structure that was part of a series of abandoned buildings. Looking out over the water and complete with “Pocahontas” weeping willow tree, this small park is my new hideaway.

(I guess this is totes cool in Brooklyn? We couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman but I am sure they would be happy to have a picture on a blog.)
Still melting, Libby and I took our seats to witness some of the most enjoyable performance art I have ever seen. Like I was talking about with my gallery observations earlier, performance art tends to seem very cliché and silly to me most of the time. In an effort to be deep, often the randomness factor explodes, along with my head. I had read in Time Out that this piece, “82 Decibels” by Larry Keigwin (AND my friend Nicole Wolcott) was one of the recommended events of the day. Would it live up to that?!

(The space before being invaded.)

Sitting along with about 60 or so curious spectators, I knew something was going down when suddenly girls in black (tipped off by my sister’s presence) starting filtering into the audience. All of a sudden the girl right next to me began shouting into her cell-phone, which began a ripple effect of the rest of the performers emerging from the crowd doing the same. What followed was an explosion of energy that used every brick and corner of the performance space pictured above. A comedic observation of the insanity of city life (complete with taxi and subway sections) the piece was a compact 25 minutes filled with enough energy to power Brooklyn. Normally things I would see as ridiculous, everyone standing screaming into the audience for example, were a charming and often hilarious release that sometimes we all need in the city.

(Carson, short with dark brown hair and dead center in the pic, does a little theraputic screaming with the gang.)

Breaking into pop hits at times (i.e. Journey’s “Small Town Girl,” a personal guilty pleasure) helped keep the mood light and the movement never became repetitious. The group of dancers and pedestrians (as the press release said) all seemed to have a great time running through this adult playground of a performance space they had. Carson was beautiful as always, and I was so happy to be able to see some exciting new dance. The final performance is on Tuesday at 6 and it is beyond easy to get to! I highly recommend it.

(My favorite pic of the day. Carson is in the middle of the handstand group looking sassy, even upside down.)
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Artsy Fartsy.

(Let me preface this by saying that I am HORRIBLE when discussing art. Indulge me for a few minutes.)

In the past two weeks I have journeyed to MoMA twice and the Met once. For some reason I seem to be on an art kick recently as I find it is always a way to get inspiration for my dancing. In these visits I found that these two museums, while usually stunning, are both in a bit of a lull right now. There are some great pieces to be seen but overall the exhibits left me a little under whelmed.

At the end of the workweek, spoiled by having the day off on Saturday, I knew I needed to do something to energize myself. Mid mental-breakdown this week I had a brief “razor-plan” meeting with Sir David and he suggested going and exploring the galleries in Chelsea. “What a glamorous idea,” I thought to myself, having lived my whole life only seeing New York galleries in movies and never in person.

Armed with my Time Out New York and eager to see art from people I had never heard of, I walked my tired feet over to 10th Ave and proceeded to be amazed. The first gallery I entered was Anton Kern, which was showing the works of Brian Calvin. My first impression was purely just the feeling of being overwhelmed by how spacious and beautiful the gallery was. As I continued on during the day I realized that they only get more and more impressive; white walled warehouses with ceilings pouring light down into the space. It really was all out of a movie, if only I had been cavorting with New York elite and drinking champagne, it would have been complete.

(Brian Calvin's "emo" girls.)

Through all the art I viewed, I realized that some of my favorite works were by artists whose work at first seemed cliché. At times the subjects or approaches appeared old but were filled with a life that seemed completely new. First there was Brian Calvin, whose cartoon-ish young women seemed to jump out of a page from the graphic novel (and brilliant movie) “Ghost World.” Somehow these cartoons were also very human too.

Second and perhaps my favorite overall gallery was the work of Vik Muniz and his garbage Mythological constructions. It is such a common view in art to act profound by finding beauty in ugliness. It’s kind of the “American Beauty” syndrome of seeing garbage and realizing that everything around us is in its own way “art.” There was no pretentiousness in his meticulous creations, whose mammoth scale mirrored the larger than life subjects that he created. In the picture you cannot see everything quite as clearly but every single bit of the composition is a piece of garbage. Refrigerators, car parts, bolts, buckets, anything he could find was used to form these warehouse-sized renderings. It’s amazing to see how full of expression yet somehow completely fake looking these pieces were. They really were breathtaking.

(Vik Muniz makes Narcissus all trashy.)

Nothing even came close to being as breathtaking as Barnaby Furnas’ series of “Red Sea’s” works. Tucked in the back of the Marianne Boesky Gallery (on 24th between 10th and 11th…GO!) these three paintings are incredible. Anything as mammoth as a 30ft wide painting is going to be overwhelming but as I stood and looked between the three different works in the series I was almost paralyzed at how great they were. To create these he used a special technique where he holds up the canvas and pours the paint on, maneuvering the canvas to spread the paint. The three paintings are so different yet they all seem to just explode out of themselves. Like in dance, it’s always amazing to see such stillness being so powerful.

(My new favorite piece. Red gets me every time.)

Barnaby Furnas and Elizabeth Huey were two of the artists that made me reassess my ideas of art that use religious imagery. One was more in your face than the other but they both used approaches I had not seen before. There was an abstractness to them that was refreshing after my art history class of relentlessly dissecting religious iconography of Michelangelo’s work. I think that modern religious art is more my style than renderings of straightforward biblical texts.

This has ended up being especially long, mainly because I feel like I have discovered something completely new (even though I am probably the last person in New York to go) and felt so exhilarated by it. Such a change of pace from the museums, if you ever want a nice day of art, head to Chelsea!


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Streb Me Up.

As some of you may have read in my blog the past few weeks, I have been hanging out with my friend Terry Dean Bartlett, a dancer with the company "Streb." Introducing him to many of my friends I was surprised to see how few people in the ballet world know what "Streb" is. Not only have they been around for over ten years, but they have toured the world and been featured on the cover of "Dance Magazine," among other things. So as a little education for all of you I thought I would post this video that I found on YouTube. Terry describes it as a mix between modern and "Cirque Du Soleil" which seems to be the most fitting explanation I have heard. Watch the whole video because the stuff at the end is really nuts! Support this company and check them out the next time they are performing. I have a ticket to see them during "Fall For Dance" at City Center but I have a feeling that might be sold out! Enjoy!

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The Celebrity Files.

Frenchie Davis is stalking me. Or am I stalking her? Whatever the case may be, I have now run into her twice within the past two weeks. Could this be the cosmic forces telling me that I should give up men and start dating sassy American Idol contestants? Probably not, but seeing how my roommate in high school and I had some bizarre fascination with the scandalous singer’s disqualification from the second season, I knew I had to get a picture with her. Yes, it’s official, for a moment I turned into that annoying celebrity (is she really one?) hypnotized fan right outside of Port Authority one night at the end of August. She was more than kind, demanding that if we were going to buzz around questioning whether or not it was her (we were) we better get over and say hello. So we did and that is when the above picture was captured. In all honesty, it might as well be our wedding announcement photo in the Sunday Times.

This afternoon, rehearsal free for the day, I walked down to the gym and there she was standing in front of me on Broadway and Houston. Perhaps I should have proposed marriage but instead I acted disinterested as I walked by, planning a future blog. Little did I know that I would be working out with ANOTHER C (or D?) list celebrity at the gym moments later.

Running up the stairs to change into my work out clothes, I bumped into someone who looked surprisingly like Stifler from “American Pie.” Not sure at first glance if it was him, I knew for certain as I stepped onto the workout floor that Sean William Scott was in the building. It was indeed the star of the movie my sister had taken me to that my father had so embarrassingly informed me would “be my sex education.” Here I was 7 years later watching him endlessly do bicep curls (seriously, for like an hour) in New York City.

(A old picture of the actor, before his biceps were the size of my legs.)

It’s odd in New York how everyone tends to act completely over the fact that celebrities are among us. When in the supermarket, on the street, or in the gym in this case, everyone goes about their business pretending not to notice. Slowly you start to see everyone doing double takes, and today half of the gym seemed to gravitate like flocking birds as Sean William Scott moved from one bicep station to the next. Eventually he ended up having a sort of bicep “dance off” with another guy, an older gay man (I don’t usually assume, but today I will), who was drooling more and more with each rep. First Sean goes, then gay goes, eventually working up the courage to walk over in a sort of congratulatory handshake after they had each done close to 8000 curls. I meanwhile was on a giant ball doing sit ups, using this awkward scene as motivation to curl my body up each time.

I am one of those people that is fascinated by celebrities yet also see the complete insanity in my own behavior. The fact that I am even taking the time to write this blog is highly questionable. Yet there I was in the gym today watching along with everyone else in the mirrors as he paraded around in his loafers, carrying a giant bag. “What is he holding in it?” we all wondered. Was it perhaps the elusive answer to that question he posed, “Dude, Where’s My Car?” Or was it a gun he carries around to shoot anyone who references the name Stifler. Like a Tootsie Pop, I guess we’ll never know. The one thing I do know is that this gym sighting certainly beats my last one, Alfred Molina.

(Hot.)
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A Little Advice....

Today one of my best friends gave me a little gem of advice, just the shot in the arm that I needed. Sometimes the most important lessons come with the simplest ideas. All he said to me was:
"Live by your own standards."
A simple idea, but one that is hard to execute. The picture above was taken when I was at a party last night looking out over the New York skyline; a moment when anything seemed possible. Why is it so hard to listen to yourself sometimes? "Live by your own standards." Thank you.
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The 90's Have Mayan Roots.

While perusing the Metropolitan Museum of Art yesterday, I stumbled into the Artifacts of Ancient Mayan Kings exhibit. The man at the admission booth had claimed this was his favorite exhibit at the moment but it left me a little underwhelmed. While some of the artifacts were beautiful, what struck Blaine and I the most were these two things in particular.

First, we have found the Legend of the Hidden Temple, and it is here in New York! That wonderful 1990's Nickelodeon show was obviously looking here for inspiration.

(The Original Olmec Talking Head Stone.)

(And pimped out Nickelodeon Olmec.)

Then we turned around and found one of our "classic" (used loosely) games from the 90's! CROCODILE DENTIST!!! Looks like the Mayans knew how to have a little fun.

(The Mayans apparently played "Crocodile Dentist" all day long. The day went, wake up and worship the gods, play Croc, sleep, repeat.)

But we knew that in order to have real fun, you MUST make it out of cheap plastic. Rocks for toys?! "Never," said Hasbro!

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An Old EPIC.

I was just looking through my old My Space blog to see how and when I started blogging. Everything back at the beginning is fairly rough (I say that as if it has changed now) but I found this piece of writing I did a little over a year ago. I wrote this backstage at the Met in my free time after reading the incredible Siri Hustvedt book, "What I Loved." I was so excited by the story that I started taking ideas and putting it into a poem/song form. Once starting, I didn't really stop; it just kind of KEEPS GOING. However, there are parts of it I would really like to develop into separate pieces. Let me just reiterate; its LOOOONG. Reel those thoughts in Matt!

Seven months and three days
That’s how long since we first met
You had on a pale shade of gray
With a coffee stain running down the chest

Something about the stain drew me in immediately
There was some sort of chaos in the way it ran
The way you stared, it looked like you’d purchase me
You’d remember differently I’m sure, forgetful man.

You asked me to pose,
And my lips parted silently;
I remember.
I felt tingling in my toes
The floorboards shifted noisily;
I remember.

I remember
The silence,
And the shifting of the mood.
Our bodies were drifting
Its odd how close to you
I felt in those first minutes
As oils touched the canvas,
Sparking, Spreading,
Remember?

Forgetting is what we did,
I was like some lovesick kid
In that canvas where we hid
Towards the center of your loft.
Everything seemed clear to me,
For once, how I dreamed my life to be
But dreams are not reality
See how quickly I forgot.

Paint the way you want me
Chose a shade that won’t be tainted
Forbidden as our love may be
It’s hidden in the way you painted.

Beneath the canvas, reflected I can see
Something I know you couldn’t have planned
A blur of colors, somehow forming me
It was then I was in love I’m sure, forgetful man.

We talked novels, latest news
Indulged in some booze
But not so much that you’d lose
Control of your brush
Each stroke like the next
Creating small flecks
When you got perplexed
It would make me blush.

So what did I know,
In those blushing cheeks?
As we started this show,
My life was not complete
I knew that loft was us,
And it will always be
That’s where you painted
And helped create me.

But forgetful man,
Soon I saw the ring
On your hand.
You said I shouldn’t worry
Promised I was the one you loved
I didn’t need promises
Or to be handled with kid gloves
No matter what you told me
It was the painting that could hold me.

It wasn’t a game
No, I didn’t want to win,
I’d never spoken to her,
Was not about to begin.
But then foolish me
I set foot inside your gallery.
Parked myself right down
In front of our portrait
You made perfect choices
Right down to the frame
Like our love, it was called “untitled”
And it made the perfect balance of joy and pain.

I watched my dream fade away,
Observing your wife in the gallery;
Forget it.
I looked and met her gaze
Reality was rushing into me;
Forget it.

Forgetting,
Everything
It was your wife and child
Some other kind of life,
It’s odd how something in me smiled
I felt in that one minute
As you and I sat by the canvas
A spark, an understanding
Both of us
Forgetting.

You and your family
Walked out the door
And met the chilly air
I just stared and the floor
Even though I was warm,
I am frozen forever
For nothing could prepare
My body for the moment
Feeling faint,
I looked up to the painting,
With some hope of regaining.
No solace found;
Her image is mine
But in it I see you.

To me,
You will always be
living, breathing, creating
To you,
I’ll live as oils,
Just brush strokes on a painting.
I’m created
You have the power
To chose when its complete
Can you not learn to separate
A canvas and me?

I cannot be angry
Cannot wish that we’d never met
I feel my body staining
Knowing I too was something you would forget
She and I had barely spoken
And somehow so much was said
I’ll remember it all forever
But dream I could forget instead.

(Still) My Favorite Poem.

Looking through my old blog (pre-"Rant") I found this.

I was just sitting around listening to some music and paging through some books when I stumbled on a poem that I hadnt looked at in a couple of months. I am not a huge poetry person but there is so much beauty in the translation of this poem by Rainer Rilke its almost overwhelming to me. Would love to hear what people think about it....

[You who never arrived]

You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging of of the next
moment. All the immense
images in me--the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities,towers, and bridges and un-
suspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods--
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.

You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house--, and you almost
stepped out , pensive, to meet me. Streets that I have chanced upon,--
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. Who knows? perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening...

Saying Goodbye/Hello.

Moving sucks. Well the actual act does, but the chance to get a fresh start in a new apartment in New York is a complete joy. Nothing sheds the old skin like packing up that U-Haul and driving towards your new shoebox.

I always find it so strange that in New York we can make do with literally no space. Paying three times as much for an apartment a third of the size you would in any other place, we New Yorkers are masters of consolidation and contentment in living conditions that people from other cities would deem “impossible.” When 400 sq. ft. is all that you have to yourself, I guess our brains just adapt to make it seem possible.

The liberation and elation that moving creates is only heightened when you are moving into your first SOLO apartment. In a city where fresh starts seem almost impossible, this act comes as the closest thing to a rebirth.

(Blaine works the five flights just for Daniel. He carried it this way all the way down. He's a Jedi master.)

After previous trysts with the experience of roommates I have come to the conclusion that for everyone’s sanity, going solo is the only way to go. Apartments have a way of ruining friendships, almost as if there are some magical creatures that suck the fun out of the relationship the minute you step foot in the door. Those creatures plant all types of things around the apartment. Dishes that no one wants to clean, hairs strewn all over the bathroom….little pieces of your brain that they rip out. You know, the fun stuff.

I know a few people that have made it past the first step and had an initial honeymoon period only to plummet soon afterwards. When the world of New York is so difficult outside, the only haven you have is a small room. For most people that haven includes noisy reminders of the insanity outside as busses hiss by. Ah, New York City.

I would like to officially congratulate my friend Daniel Keene (Mantei) on moving into his first apartment on his own. I would also like to congratulate him on ruining my body in the process. The other hell of New York is a building without an elevator. Moving from a five-floor walk up is the equivilant of going at my muscles with a jackhammer. In the unwritten code of New York friendships, you are required to climb those five flights over and over again like Richard Simmons on speed and not complain. Except on your blog of course.

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Dead Animals Reunite Old Friendships.

Recognize that poster above? Unless you have been living under a rock the past few weeks, chances are you have seen it everywhere you turn. That’s right; Ms.Veronika Part and Terry Dean Bartlett have officially taken over NYC.

I, for one, couldn’t be happier. Having known Terry since I was a six year old gay boy in the mountains of Montana (he recounted fond memories of me prancing around my house in a dress, boa and pumps at the age of seven) seeing him on these posters was the most I had been able to see him for years. New York has a way of eating your time even when you are doing nothing and all of a sudden those people you thought you would see all the time have been missing for over a year. Terry and I had been playing My Space tag (phone tag just doesn’t exist anymore) for about five months now. Well last night we FINALLY met up at the trendy hidden restaurant “Freeman’s” in the Lower East Side.

As much as I wish I were a connoisseur of fabulous eateries around the city, I am a picky prude when it comes to food. I tend to rehash restaurants more than I would like but am trying to step out of that Chipotle comfort zone. So I, along with Terry, his boyfriend Jeff and my sister Carson, snuck down a little alley to escape from the city insanity for a few hours.

The minute we stepped inside I felt like I was back in Montana. Well, kind of. The walls were adorned with dead animals stuffed in poses oddly resembling real life. Ah, comfort. For a minute I thought there really was a boar about to eat me, then I realized it didn’t have a body. Close call.

Sometimes I get tired of being around dancers but then I realize that when I use that term it usually means ballet dancers. It’s tough surrounding yourself with people who do the exact same thing as you, regardless of whether that is dance or not. Being in the company of Terry (who is a fabulous modern dancer with Streb), Carson and Jeff (who while not a dancer, can more than hold his own when dissecting works) I felt refreshed. Dance is an incredible form of expression and being able to sit and talk about it is refreshing as long as something unique is brought to the table.

Terry and my sister both experience so much dance that I was fascinated with every bit of the conversation. Hearing about Streb’s technique and how it is every bit as detailed as a ballet syllabus made me long for the chance to see them again. I need to get my tickets for their City Center show and I urge everyone to do the same.

The longer I sat there last night I just got confused at how closed off the ballet world is. Terry seems to know endless amounts of people and is out there working all the time. On top of Streb, he produces his own show at P.S. 122 called “Dance Off!” which I will hopefully have the chance to be a part of in the future. It was exciting having him ask me if I was working on anything at the moment and I could actually give a hesitant yes for once! “Snow” is still a work in progress, and I am searching out new music to work on a duet. If anyone has any recommendations, send them my way PLEASE!

The whole night felt a little movie-esque. Between the alley that very well might have been a set, the orgy of rats on the street and the reuniting of old relationships I left feeling elated. I was just waiting for the music to start as I sped off in my taxi. Unlike the animals on the walls, the night was very much alive and left me with a smile on my face. Can it get much better than that simplicity?

P.S. Thanks to Jeff for all of the pictures for this blog!!! What kind of blogger am I going out without my camera!? Shame on me.
P.P.S Freemans was pretty good. Great energy inside, some good food (although not my favorite steak) and crazy taxidermied animals. What more could you ask for?!
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Battle of the Doggies....

It's ON people! Not really at all (or IS it?) just thought I would put a up a little pup. Up first is Miss Lua, Prize Winning Dog of Mr. Marcelo Gomes! Lua enjoys long strolls on the sidewalk, licking ballerina feet, curling up to watch "Project Runway" and being pampered. Hooray for Lua.

Next up is Ms. Mazie Murphy. Mazie enjoys rugged mountain walks, watching "The Godfather," doing fad diets, licking ballerina feet and being pampered. Hooray Mazie! Maybe they should meet! Wow, this is the most random blog I have ever done. Substance people!

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'Half' of My Expectations....

Hollywood has ruined us all. With the rise of the blockbuster, and climax burdened movies and television, story has gotten thrown to the sidelines. Or maybe not thrown to the sidelines but pumped up with steroids at every possible lull that life would normally hand us.

Tonight I went to see the film "Half Nelson," which is being heralded as one of the first "great" movies of 2006. Reviewers always set up an audience for disaster because when someone professes that a movie is great, or horrible for that matter, the expectations are skewed to a point where they are hardly ever fulfilled. We go to the movies to escape from reality for a few dark hours, but more and more I find that if that film isn't tied up with a neat little bow, then people are usually dissatisfied with their escape. I couldn't help but feel this for part of the film tonight. Then I realized I have just been processed to react that way.

A stark and quiet movie about a free base junkies' relationship with his 8th grade student, this film is in most every sense, atypical. To me though, that is what made it the achievement that it is. I sat there waiting for someone to die, or for some divine revelation to come and it never did. This is EXACTLY why I will praise this movie. There were moments where the pacing felt somewhat gelatinous but the peformances by Ryan Gosling and his young costar (who has a face to die for with eyes that pierce the camera at every glance) kept me fascinated throughout. Life never has clean cuts between scenes and in the end the audience will care about the characters more if they are human. These might seem like obvious statements but I think it is something that happens so rarely in movies today.

When I go to see art, whether it is dance, theater or film, I enjoy seeing real relationships that aren't sugar-coated. What I hope to achieve when I work on choreography in the future is not a flashy spectacle but raw emotions and interactions. The scenes between these two actors were exactly that and the movie was textbook proof that there are filmmakers out there who are not afraid to be a little bit different. It achieved all of this without feeling the least bit pretentious or preachy which is so often the case with stories involving drugs and children. Even more astonishing is that it is the filmmakers' first movie.

It's nice to view something that doesn't feel like it just "ends" once the credits start. If I am going to invest in two hours in a theater it's nice to feel that at the end of that time, I have just been able to view a life that is still existing. My investment seems satisfactory when I am prompted to think after the movie. It's not a perfect film but it definitely beat "Another Gay Movie," which I went to see earlier this week. DON'T. EVEN. ASK.
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