“Love is reciprocity and so is art. Either you abandon yourself to another world that you say you seek or you find ways to resist it. Most of us are art resisters because art is a challenge to the notional life....It fields its own realities, lives by its own currency, aloof to riches and want. Art is dangerous.” --Jeanette Winterson, “Imagination and Reality” from Art Objects.
Warning: there's a subtle fusion here.
Resistance is futile, so I bought tickets to see (the best damn) ABBA (tribute band in the world) next week at the Hardrock Casino in Hollywood, Florida. I'm super excited because “Mama Mia” may go with us. She is a “Super Trouper” and a “Dancing Queen”. We invited “Fernando”, but he has to work, which is too bad because he does the best Cubano rendition of "Chiquitita" never recorded.
This is my favorite cover of “Chiquitita” sung by my heroine—Sinead O'Connor.
I'm in the process of creating a new world void of blue tones and built upon reciprocity of love and art. I'm on a mission. I'm not perfect. I'm an idiot.
My numerological number is 22. This is overwhelming Monday - Friday.
I am fish-sitting for my roommate. Before she left, I asked her what I should do just in case the fish drowns. It's a fish, she said. I shrugged my shoulders because I wasn't joking.
In my first post as a guest blogger for BAP, I revealed that I'm probably moderately bipolar. At this time I would like to clarify that I am definitely not a bisexual polar bear. (Someone asked.)
Furthermore, but totally unrelated to science fiction, I blame Anne Carson for one of my recent catastrophes. In her Autobiography of Red she wrote, "a paste of blue cloud untangled itself on the red sky over the harbor". I took her seriously and I should've known she was a trickster, a prankster, and that she really wanted me to untangle myself from my own sea of entangled states. I'm always getting tangled up, but I'm working on this every day. I've learned to meditate.
A few weeks after ABBA, I'm going to see Ladytron and her chorus of Korgs. Then, I'm heading to Richmond to spend time riding horses at my cousin's farm. I expect to ride a white horse.
This is what I wanted from life:"everything there was and what was left after that, too."
This is also what I wanted from life: “everything that will be and what will be left after that, too.”
Now, I want something more fantastical, unexpected and dangerously beautiful like Pegasus.
