once again, you heard me. how, i don’t know, i wasn’t even speaking to you but to someone else. i finally get it. i’m still looking for solace and reassurance in a place that i know at an instinctive level isn’t the right place for me, was never the right place for me, no matter how skin-deep seductive. and it’s the skin that responded, the skin that always responds.

i’m acknowledging the safety in you, and all i have to say is thank you. for your patience, faith, belief, and love. thank you for that picture, those charcoal lines. thank you, so much. for all that’s past. and all that you hold in a promise to come. every once in a while, a word/sentence/piece i bring into here and now owes its presence to you. and your assurance of support. thank you for the stories. thank you for these (you might remember):

I now believe that you were a construct, a bizarre collage of the characteristics of those who came before you. true names + star signs + repetitive destructive energies. Even the dysphagia. Your eyes, I had seen before. Everything about you was a magical fabrication. I only regret not stealing the sketches, the ones with those marvelously twisted energies but I guess that’s the way it goes. Your constant little bird left a golden-edged impression on my heart. At least I kept a memento. And I’ll keep on having your dreams.

*

My heartbeat echoes the 808 echoes this scream that emerges from a bloodied face like the liontamer’s. Exposed skin invites touch invites the sting of the whip invites the healing that comes after the punishment. Funeral parlour fumes solidify. All of these honest observations feel like the needle’s journey over bone, the eye of the needle drawing a poem guided by the body’s memory mapped out in permanence.

*

You’re my magic and I miss you. Got 17 candles in a drawer, star-shaped. Their tips were once in chocolate, remnants from a birthday celebration. Red, yellow, purple, glittered into stardust, crushed, mixed with powdered sugar. Games of treasurehunt in the night through a red haze. Switch to blue for vision, lighting crevasses with technology’s in/outs. Smile. That digital glow always reminds. When did another haze come? Perched on wood, writing dreamscapes. You’re my mystic and I miss you. Each space contains echoes of your noise, shadows of your lines. Next time, you be a tourist.

EN[D]TROPE

***

Post-confessional, walking away from the booth, post-redemption, pre-absolution, condensed for the un-necessary: it’s time to walk away, don’t look back. Walk toward.

But I know I’m not the right one to mention this.

feeling haunted, kept up, need to write it out. purge exorcise delete. i hold on too easily. but i’ve found the right solution for that, i think. i wish i could be sure about stuff, but i’m hardly certain about anything. not even the memory. spent the last few days on a different plane, disconnected on a creative tip wouldn’t you know? trying to focus, make things, make things work.

BAM - in comic book jagged edges.

a distraction. wait, i just lied, implied. not sudden, building since summer [8]. immediately after a space was recently cleared. i slash-and-burned it, listening to morrissey’s voice for ambience. not first choice, but hey. would have played lou reed, but didn’t have a car [9].

cleared space functioned as a landing pad for something that had been hovering [2]. although it was a dot on the horizon [9,7]. landed object grew like the blob, covering everything in warm wetness.

this post’s about diluting some of the energy - until i build my container. just trying to let a little bit out, so i can focus on the major endeavour. when i left this plane i left my groove. time to get it back. no stella, y’all.

to the whisperer: funny, that one showed up again, stone figurine all reassembled after i had seen it disintegrate right before my eyes. mist you. like a lamaze coach, reminding me to breathe. coaxing me. witnessing the birth of a superhero, special power the rescue of i. might still get namesake ink. i finally have it figured out: we’re from the same myth. let’s walk along the train tracks, use technology to see, and find a rooftop where i can practice what i need to say.

a message to the distracting other* [7]: i used to believe in enhancement, but at some point, in a diner somewhere-not-here, i came to believe in completion. either the object or a (gilted) replica of. i apologise for the reduction, but it’s the abstract i’m finding distracting, so simplifying. we’re from the same space, but there, i’m a crescent moon. as opposed to mist, this is tangible. don’t front, i know you got me open.

damn, in technicolour. alakazam, wonderful you came by.

10, 11, and 12.

*to those wondering if i’m addressing them - it’s only you if you understand the significance of the date this was posted. and/or this line: “but i guess it’s easy being a soldier when there’s no war”.

technically, today is the day i should be building an automaton. the day where i should place Self exterior. the day when i segregate emotions from living. but no. not today.

i want to see a photo of myself. where i’m standing, looking away from the camera, into the distance. i should look Self-unconscious, at a moment when the photographer (an intimate) caught me unawares. behind me, slightly out of focus, should be anOther entity. one that embodies me, but the neutral viewer wouldn’t be able to know this. one with buttons, machinery, strings. i should have crow’s feet, the ones i’m working on now, laugh lines that don’t reach my eyes.

the intimate who took the photo would caption it with something romantic, a projection of the feelings s/he imagines me to contain. but they would be wrong. the romanticism would be projected into the wrong object. the automaton would hold the real.

but if i were to build the automaton that would show up in a future photograph of myself today. oh, if only i would. if i were to build this objectSelf today, i would be called eccentric-crazy-weird, and i would be locked up away from this real.

which is kinda what i want right now.

A reluctance, a resistance. But life is good, opportunities raining down. A little space got made, and I’m amazed at what’s shown up to fill it.

“I heard about you, and I’m liking what you do.”

The feeling is mutual. Coffee? Let’s talk about silent movies, sound art, collage. Let’s shoot a film, make puppets, read academic papers and talk about motivating emotions. Let’s stop global warming, create world peace. Right now, I can do anything.

Something got ripped off. I thought I would feel raw, vulnerable, exposed. I feel shiny, new, fresh. Found my self-esteem, it was hiding in a bus stop. I deserve what I’m getting right now.

I’ve been neglecting this space and others, so ready, re-set, go! Reassuring words, looks, touches try to heal a wound that should be there. But I’m through with being punished unnecessarily. I’m all about celebrating myself and those who made me who I am.

Brilliant new energy, strange new place. Owing gratitude and looking for places to show it. Universe, know that I’ve learned my lesson, know that I’m grateful for how it came to be, wrapped up in cosmic dust. There’s beauty I didn’t know about before, in the unlikeliest of places. I’m so grateful for everything I’ve been through, so great-full with everything I’ve just been given.

I have so much in me to give. It’s still there, almost untapped. If only you knew, but I can’t regret what I felt to be the truth. The body knows.

Plugged right back into the city last night, Kensington Market, no less. Three different offers, life, love and work. Tell me I’m not blessed. This re-grounding is so empowering, so beautiful, like a hard-earned reward it doesn’t have to be anything special. Just acknowledgment right now is enough.

Life’s feeling like a Rubik’s cube - we’d had the blue side all straight, now the yellow’s coming together. And it’s easier from here on.

And as a final message - don’t aim for my lips, yo. They can speak for themselves.

***

ayiti nation of warriors. they’re out there still tonight. i see them when i wander and wake up in salt. i read the news reports watch the videos look at the photographs. compelled to look know that they are out there. memory is important. far away, i need to witness. we need to know what’s going on what other people are going through. it’s so painful. i’ve written pages it’s not my pain but it’s in my body. i’m too open these days. can barely think about it. the bodies look like mine my family’s my countrywo/men. the hairstyles postures stance too familiar. i’m safe, in reflection. i also wait another looming event. the next time won’t be a reflection will be my image. already parallel (universe) being drawn. some of the images trigger like the glint of fierce sun off machetes held by youth. fear pushes my tears. i see you –> me –> us.

and i understand.

***

still working through a different pain, needing to put my burden down. slowly working through, slowly eliminating. i’m also moving, and symbolically releasing with each item that doesn’t get to come with me. the new space is healing. i couldn’t voice that yesterday, but it’s healing, wholesome. an outdoors a bathtub. this is important, more important than other things that should be.

i’ve been re-accessing my community. finding the sanctuary i had been looking for elsewhere. mis-guided, but things that were hazy were made clearer. especially in response to destructive patterns.

i’m looking forward to a new part of the city, a new chance to walk different streets. i’d unplugged from the city for the last little while - retreated. time to re-treat under those sodium lamps. listen to the music on the concrete. and when it warms up a little more, get some sunshine.

i’ve been asking for a lot. needing a lot. not getting a lot. trying to get past that to the state where i can give a lot, again. but i can’t do it alone. i also can’t allow myself to be drained. the little i have left right now has to go where it’s needed.

i’m ok with failing, as long as i’ve tried.

i have to be honest, right? i did make a commitment to put it all out there, not for catharsis nor attention, but to overcome my own crippling fear of judgment and rejection. everything - absolutely everything - is bearable as long as i’m not rejected. i need to get over that. tonight for some reason it’s okay i don’t know maybe the shame tomorrow will make me take this post down.

2009 was tough. really tough. there were many beautiful and good moments, more than enough, and overall, i’m progressing achieving accomplishing. i can see and rationalise that.

there was also a lot of rocking the lowest self-esteem i’ve had in my life. dealing with depression that only seemed to get worse the more i ignored it. breaking down so often, clinging onto others, my nailmarks leaving deep scratch wounds in their skin as i fought to hold on. the ones who gave me more than i had any right to take from them. wake-up call recently. i’m still going under but i seem hellbent on not doing it solo. bent on bringing others into my own personal hell. i love them too much to hurt them like that more than i’ve hurt them so far.

i had this arrogant belief in my ability to survive, a conviction that i was the lone warrior, i didn’t need help. and then i thought that i did, and i asked for it, wanted to depend on it, relied on someone else to clear my passageways, breathe for me.

i’ve never felt this weak and helpless before. today and yesterday i felt it in my body each step painful but i’m so numb i can barely make the effort to connect mental and physical. i now understand why people cut i don’t do it to the physical but everyday i drag that blade deeper through the mental without allowing it to scar. and then i bleed over someone else.

i hurt. so i hurt others. then i watch them hurt and i hurt even more at seeing them hurt. i have to stop but i can’t but i will. now. i’m disconnecting going through the motions today tomorrow day after. until after the middle of next week. and then nothingness. disconnect to re-treat re-form.

i’m weary of the anger. 30 wasn’t supposed to be like this. 2010 wasn’t supposed to begin this way. too much to repair too much to re-pare. too much pain to reap here. i can barely type this.

i would promise i won’t hurt [you] anymore but i can’t commit to an expectation. i can barely commit to posting this.

this image is me denmark, maybe. i think hazy like the mist. the photos rip open reveal chasm. sense intertwined smell oil of olay when i see her smile. it looks simple and i still walk like that. alone never lonely love removed the real no know-how. look down step firm dress warm wear red. foreign[er] state of mind.

End of the year, and I’m taking stock. 2009’s been one helluva ride, filled with the most amazing events and people. Both positive and negative. It’s mostly here, so I’m not going to re-cap, just a quick sketch-up of what’s been featuring most prominently in my mental:

I both underestimate my capabilities and at the same time, overestimate my capacities for what I am able to handle. The last three months have been the most mentally challenging of my life, hands-down-no-question-about-it. I was so completely sideswiped with a brutal reality check: I can no longer live my life the way that I have been. Things need to change.

I don’t remember the last time that my life had any routine or structure. There was some semblance when I worked in an office, but I had been brought in as a renegade, someone to bring in fresh thoughts and ideas, and so many allowances were made for me. The first structure to go was hours of work: as long as I put in at least the required amount of hours (which I often exceeded), and as long as all my deadlines were met to a predetermined level of satisfaction (which they were), I was free to start and finish my day when I chose. So, I really haven’t ever as an adult had a fixed, dependable schedule. I eat when I’m hungry, sleep when I’m tired, and book my appointments and meetings around those two needs. This now has to change, and trying to adapt into a routine of any kind is going to be challenging, to say the least. But it has to happen – I need to find a more efficient way of managing my time. And it’s not even about getting more done, it’s about having more free time to engage in leisure activities, visit with friends, go to galleries, shows, concerts, etc.

This leads into the second thing that’s been on my mind; my community is incredibly important to me, but I’ve sort of been MIA on that front. I haven’t had the time or energy, being completely overtaken by the undertaking (and Darkness, more on that in a bit). I need to be more present and more active in my community. A special thank you goes to those who kept on checking up on me when I was AWOL, the ones who brought food over and made sure I got the time I needed, the ones who never got mad when it took me too long to call them back, and especially to the ones who really listened to me. I need no one but you. I want no one but you. And in return, I need to step up to my community.

I’ve been living with Darkness for as long as I can remember. I didn’t know what was going on before, but for the last couple of years, I have known. And apart from the power that knowing has given me, I haven’t done much to reduce my experiences. Naming something is incredible, but not acting on that knowledge means that it’s useless. I go through cycles – things get progressively darker, and I’m so oblivious that I don’t notice what’s going on until I start breaking things, cowering and hiding until I scream the Darkness away and things get lighter. I can’t go on like this – it’s damaging to me personally, and hurtful to those closest to me who end up dealing with it too. So things have to change on this front too. I’ve spoken with professionals about my options, and I know what’s available to me. It’s just a matter of setting things up so I am able to help myself into a better, brighter place.

Friendship has changed, shifted. This year, thanks to one disappointment after the other, I’ve learned that I expect too much from people. And I give too much to people. I got jaded for a while, stopped expecting, but that’s not fair to the people who work in relationships. I’m changing how I define and view friendship, I used to be ride-or-die, now I only am if I know I’m getting the same in response. I’ve also shifted how I perceive people, away from their words and toward their actions. I know whose got my back out there, and I also know who I want to have my back. It messed me up for a minute, the transformations in a couple of relationships that I had thought were solid, and I’m now on a different track. When I was younger, an older friend told me that she categorized her relationships based on what the other person was able to give. At the time, I thought she was being callous and opportunistic; now I finally see the truth in what she was saying. I’m learning that maybe people aren’t able to deliver what I expect from them, and that my disappointment becomes unfair to them. I’m also learning I can’t expect from others what they expect from me, and I don’t like that. I’m having a hard time dealing with the fact that I’m expected to adhere to a moral code only inasmuch as it doesn’t affect others. And I’m also learning that I have a really hard time dealing with other people’s selfishness. Which ultimately means I need to deal with my own selfishness. Yeah, like I really needed more harsh lessons to learn. This year’s been all about personal growth.

I believe that I’m nearing the end of a major transformation. I now have to focus my energy on completing my discovery of who I want to be, how I want to be seen, and what – internally and externally – would make me happy. I know that I’m nearing a place where this knowledge is both crucial to my survival and essential for the next phase of my life.

When looking at this past year overall, it’s been great, but challenging. The few positive things that have happened have been momentous in their significance, and have been and will continue to outweigh the hard times of this past year.

I’m grateful for 2009 and I’m looking forward to 2010 being great-full.

***

There’s more I need to write, several things that have been so crucial to this year, but haven’t been included above. These include: my own personal ideas of nationality, citizenship, homesickness; family, both blood and acquired, current and future; partnership and support; heritage and legacy; and my own work as a writer. Soon come.

i went through the emails, messages, cards. i’m on a nostalgia tip, the ghost of _____ past running through my head. except time’s all messed-up, so i’m dealing with pastpresentfuture. all at once. it’s been a heavy emotional journey, documented online breadcrumb trails on blogs and twitter feeds, status updates. we’ve been so public and confessional.

i can’t count the amount of phonecalls i’ve had in response to posts i’ve made. check-ups resulting from my broadcast emotions. and those of others. i look for the patterns in correspondence, and i can see them. there are some pretty high crests before those lowlowlow troughs.

i’m still shaky, unsure, wishful so it’s probably not the greatest idea for me to do this right now. not at this time of the night, which is my witching hour. retrospective word of the year is: bombardment. from everywhere.

like that line nikki drops, on her first date with vik. like friday afternoons under a baobab tree. like bedtime with my grandmother. dry, rough hands. the scent that triggers dream memories, brown and gold. 81+18, son. sign of god’s beauty. i didn’t know. speaking of hands, i want to force yours. but instead of reaching, i instinctively reach for patience. golden war. timestepping van Winkle. funny, you never disappointed me. shifted my gaze downwards, on a level. glitter dust falling all around me. i see you. in your own weird, unreliable way, you’re now a constant, now something steady i can refer to. no pain in the stranger. i’m this close (pinched fingers) to claiming my wish. learning a new vocabulary, a new way of being. co-existing, giving up on molding, learning to become less inflexible. learning to stop with the futility, learning to stet.

***

Record Club: Velvet Underground & Nico “Run Run Run” from Beck Hansen on Vimeo.

Spoiler alert.

I watched Avatar last night. I was curious about the movie for its technical achievement and the sci-fi dealing with imperialism story theme, but 15 minutes through the movie though, the main question in my mind was: puke now or puke later?

The film is discomforting and dated in its colonial, imperialist politics. Basically, paralysed former Marine ends up controlling his deceased identical twin brother’s Avatar (body made from combined human-alien DNA, remote-controlled using the human’s brain) on an alien planet called Pandora. There, he ends up “going native,” hooking up with the chief’s daughter, selling out the locals, and then redeeming (not in my eyes) himself by stopping the Earthmen from destroying the planet for resources. He then completes the going-native cliche by submitting to the Mother-Earth-Divine-Goddess deity of the locals to permanently become one of them. Uh, yeah.

Nothing we haven’t seen before, right? It’s Pocahontas, but with blue aliens. Add a bunch of cliched sci-fi tropes, sprinkle in a Nature-über-alles moral, hit up the Westerns for bad-guy dialogue ideas, and there you have it. Except for the racial politics: the local Pandorans, called the Na’vi, are of course, black.

Some of them speak English with really bad African accents (is it Nigerian? Ghanaian? Moroccan?), wear regalia lifted piece-by-piece from turn-of-the-century - not this century, the last one - photographs of the Masai (down to the hairstyles and beaded chokers), have a pattern of brightly-coloured dots on their skins a la tribal scarification, and their warpaint looks suspiciously like the manhood rituals of some South African tribes. The Na’vi are referred to as savage and primitive (by the military and corporate characters), fetishised for their relationship to Nature (by the female lead scientist, a role Sigourney Weaver was wasted in) or idolised by the male lead, Jake Scully (all one word to the Na’vi).

There are tribal prayer scenes that bring to mind the drumming circles at Trinity-Bellwood Park on a Tuesday night. Scantily clad natives contrasted by the civilised white scientist who maintains her decency, wearing t-shirts and hiking boots as an avatar. Trilling, snarling in anger, and exposure of fangs, animalistic displays of emotions by the Na’vi. There are several tests of belonging, which JakeScully aces, until he becomes an outcast whereby he gets back into the good books by claiming a legend. JakeScully then experiences hero-worship from all the Na’vi, including his former arch-nemesis.

To me, the sketchiness of the film’s politics can be summarised in one line, screamed at JakeScully by the cowboy/general during their final confrontation:

“How does it feel to betray your race?”

Dude, these are aliens, which makes the correct word here “species.” Then again, the actors playing the lead aliens are all black (save one, who’s Cherokee), so I guess it might be an accurate statement. We have the wise and benevolent chief, his wife, the spiritual woman (who dismisses what she does as being voodoo or witch doctoring, when all her performances are white interpretations of both), the daughter - alien hotness promised to the leading warrior who she ditches to take a chance on JakeScully being alpha male. Because this movie plays up to colonial fantasies, we know that JakeScully is the alpha male, and the lead warrior is nothing but the noble savage provided for contrast.

I had (mistakenly) thought we had advanced past all the imperialist colonial fantasies, but judging from the response to Avatar and Cameron’s interview quotes, we are not. Space, the final frontier, I guess. Colonialism apparently left no lessons behind for those in power, only those oppressed.

Worth noting: subplots commenting on (dis)ability; performances of the male; the planet as mother; corporate greed chaperoned by military might.