Lord love my ducklings and bless my bum, this song, old though it is, is somehow new to me. I don't know why, but it fits me like the proverbial. Yes, the proverbial leather glove in all it's kid glory. Cream antique leather gloves that reach the elbow.
It's humid and today I've been to Bikram Yoga and also went and saw Suzanne's performance after she'd done two intensive weeks of dance training.
Bikram Yoga was, as usual, a sort of wonderful torture. I truly admired the big girl next to me, she was going for it and a hell of a lot more flexible than me. Why, I can't even get my face flat down on my knees, that's how much of a slacker I am.
The Bikram teacher was a little bit of a bitch today, but I forgave her because peace came to me as I looked at the patterns in the wood grain on the ceiling. Heaps of genital shapes.
I'm obsessed with sex (but in the nicest way), reading, music, friends, coffee and the sea.
Suzanne's performance was a 13 minute intensive exploration of the struggle inherent in leaving the past behind. The way the able-bodied and disabled moved together was fucking amazing; Suzanne was lifted upside down and throwing herself around with the force of a little tornado. Beautiful and inspiring. I nearly cried; it was so cool to see a physical performance work it's way into my heart like a well-crafted poem, painting or story. Something shifts. It's alchemy.
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