Author: admin

I went into CKUT to talk about dance and me today. It’s always strange to talk on the radio. In one sense, you’re just in a room, talking. In another sense, there are people who you’ve never met who are listening to you. Some of them may be making lunch or sending e-mails, or exercising. I get caught up in imagining these people whenever I talk on the radio.

Today the talk was about my history with dance and the stuff I’m working on. I don’t think you ever really do these types of things justice when you speak about them. But if you never try then it’s a preemptive failure–the worst kind.

http://movement-museum.blogspot.ca/2012/10/adam-kinner-roque-review.html

Proust: “After all, what one always does when one travels is to verify something; one verifies that a color one dreamed of is really there.”

Deleuze: “A bad dreamer is someone who doesn’t go see if the color he dreamed about is really there, but a good dreamer knows that one has to verify if the color is real.”

Deleuze (again):

Parnet asks if this theme of travel is related to Deleuze’s natural slowness, and Deleuze says no, that he doesn’t conceive of traveling as slow, but in any case he feels no need to move. All the intensities that he has are immobile intensities. Intensities distribute themselves, he says, in space or other systems that aren’t necessarily exterior spaces. Deleuze assures Parnet that when he reads a book or hears music that he considers beautiful, he really gets the feeling of passing into states or emotions that he would never find in travel…Deleuze says that there is a geo-music, a geo-philosophy, that he considers to be profound countries, that are his countries.

True or false: we never really got to know each other

True or false: you’re getting soft

True or false: distance brings us closer

Ture or false: it’s all up in the air

True or false: someday you’ll cut your hair and I won’t recognize you

True or false: it’s the sand that smells like the ocean

Yes or no: these days it’s like everyone’s forgotten something

True or false: those clouds over there look pretty bad

True or false: never masturbate when you’re mother’s home

True or false: this is a song

Yes or no: yes

I can’t tell

True or false: you could be a lot nicer to me

True or false: 1984 was a good year

Yes or no: I’m writing all of this down

True or false: always look a girl in the eyes

True or false: there’s a fine line here

Yes or no: I was right all along

False

True or false: this is a stretch but…

True or false: I feel pretty good right now.

When you give someone shoes, you should always leave a note.

This is the back of the Marathon record that is coming out sometime this Fall. Look out world.

May Deaths

Two were in their 70s, that’s not so old!
One was in her 30s, it had just stopped being cold
and the birds and trees were stirring.
Two I wished to know better,
one I knew enough, he said
Glad to meet you the 20 times we met,
wouldn’t wear a hearing aid so his part
in conversation was him talking waiting then talking some more,
there was no other part.
But I liked his darkness, funny
as those photos of prisoners in cellblocks
wearing plush animal costumes.
Big bunny in solitary.
The youngest shocked us crashing
a Cessna into tall pine trees then not
meeting her classes the rest of the semester.
I met her younger sister.
How old are you we said dumbly but undeadly.
One came back with a stomachache from Italy,
one’s throat stayed sore all year.
Horrible to make a tally,
so much fear, maybe too much to bother with,
funerals on the sides of hot hills,
it seems the pall bearers will stumble
their polished shoes streaked with clay.
A memorial, his new books on a table,
ending with a Chopin nocturne,
momentarily we’re floating
like needles on water.

-Dean Young from Elegy On Toy Piano

I’ll teach you my secret code. We can use it for when we’re talking together. Then I won’t have to say things that I have trouble saying. This will be easier. We can tweak the language together. It’s easier this way. I promise. Really, I can’t say why. Communication is so hard. Let’s do it our own way. Please. Let me teach you. It won’t take long. Love you. Thanks.

[I recorded this a good long time ago and never played it for anyone. Not sure why. Thankful to Martin H & Gabriel L for their contributions.]

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One thing you can do is leave home when you’re seventeen and live with your boyfriend.

One thing you can do is make up funny names.

One thing you can do is try to run a really long way.

One thing you can do is pack it in and go home.

One thing you can do is take pictures.

One thing you can do is drink yourself to sleep.

One thing you can do is commit sodomy.

One thing you can do is feel good about yourself.

One thing you can do is talk about baseball.

One thing you can do is let loose.

One thing you can do is fart in the stadium seating.

One thing you can do is think of things to do today.

One thing you can do is wake up early and go back to bed.

One thing you can do is write songs.

One thing you can do is quit while you’re ahead.

One thing you can do is take the long way home.

One thing you can do is try to stop thinking about it.

One thing you can do is go out for Chinese.

One thing you can do is wake up.

One thing you can do is just fuck it.

One thing you can do is kiss me right there. Mmm.

One thing you can do is dominate me.

No, no, not like that.

One thing you can do is knock it off.

One thing you can do is try harder.

One thing you can do is just quit.

Knock it off.

One thing you can do is knock it off.

Knock it off.

Glory

Some sadness has no origin, says the father
tying his son to a post.
I wake up asleep.
Most monkeys die of dislocations in the wild.
My remote, where is it? Awful things
have happened to Daffy Duck.
Was that the cause or result of his daffiness?
His bill blasted to the back of his head.
His eyes bounced around.
Deep inside his male-feathered brain
is the need to fuck or fuck up
everything beautiful, even the Parthenon.
Yet he returns again and again from what
would kill and make inedible
an ordinary duck.
Is this too the power of daffiness?
How unlike being a dead pharaoh,
which is damned serious business.
They lay you down and dig in.
Here’s a lovely scarab-encrusted jar
for your pancreas. Here’s a hook
to pull your brains through your nose.
Not great for your slaves either, strangled
and pickled in lesser materials.
And lots of cats. In the Valley of Eternals,
you’re perpetually in profile, talking
out of the side of your mouth to jackals.
The air smells of lilacs and barbed wire.
You enter the ballerina’s lair.

–Dean Young