my 28th birthday was on March 16th.
it wasn't just relaxed, it was blissfully normal.
i, was most definitely, home.
scrumptious family dinners, my mom took me shopping,
my boyfriend bought me an Anthony Bourdain book,
facebook post overload of birthday wishes from lovely friends,
homemade chocolate chip cake, funny cards that make me smile.
i felt the home -
the coinciding bond between the tangible location,
the ease of the release of the heart,
and the thick memories that somehow stabilize you, root you, and
shock you how the senses and space make time a watery play-thing.
"i'm here, again. this kitchen...i am standing here, again."
"what's that?" my mom asks.
"i just can't believe i am standing here. in the kitchen!"
stretching my 8 hours plane limbs, on a deep inhale,
eyes sealed, oily flashes of Parisian cafes, German faces of new family,
the Sierra Nevadas out of my window.
...did i really have an Amsterdam apartment...
"where the hell was i?! where am i now?!"
in Montmarte, France, there is a Dali Musee.
bronze sculpture works from Dali, oil paintings of the themes of Alice in Wonderland,
and intricate/intense 12 Stations of the Cross.
even the entire student body of a mid-western middle school paid tribute to Dali
by sporting the Dali mustache: thin and upturned, menacing and playful.
i was surprised to see them all without a U crutch in hand!
a handful of his bronze works were of the limp watches.
Dali often said: materialization of the flexibility of the Time and the invisibility of the Space.
It is a fluid. Unexpected limpness of the watch represents also the psychological aspect by which the speed of time though specifies in its scientific definition can largely vary in his human perception. The idea came to him after contemplating the remainders of his running Camembert cheese. (as stated on the Espace Dali Montmarte website)
on March 16th, i turned 28 years old, young, what have you.
my cheese has been running for quite some time now.
and i have chosen to take my time, my life, contemplating it.
i urge you to do the same.
because who doesn't LOVE cheese?
namaste, to Salvador Dali, my family, and the magic of Time and Space!
Namaste!
August 24, 2010 * Aguas Calientes * Machu Picchu * Peru * South America
poetry and the art of recklessness
"how sad it is when a luxurious imagination is obliged in self-defence to deaden its delicacy in vulgarity, and riot in things attainable that it may not have leisure to go mad
after things that are not." *john keats, july 1818
let us riot in the unattainable!
poetry is when the animal bursts forth, inflamed.
*and dean young is spectacular to have written this essay in poets&writers magazine
after things that are not." *john keats, july 1818
let us riot in the unattainable!
poetry is when the animal bursts forth, inflamed.
*and dean young is spectacular to have written this essay in poets&writers magazine
FREE POEM
for NO FEE, I will write
YOU a poem!
not a long one.
not even a good one.
but, an original poem, that hopefully won't suck.
you can even contribute
to the magic!
a word, a dream, a flavor.
gimme a name, a crime you committed, the specific region of the gypsies who helped you become pregnant, how you take your coffee. . .
gimme something to go on, m*tha f*ckas.
namaste.
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- Gina
- "tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" that's loaded...i know.
Namaste...
may you halt your Blackberry usage for one full inhale
to wade in a debilitating moment of humility.
on one full exhale, honor the divine m*tha f*cka in all of us.
then dial up another d**che b*g you know,
to sympathize with you about unsympathetic topics,
while you trample ahead of the herd.
...m*tha f*ckas.
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