the making at the tip of my tongue
relax into it, it will come.
14
Jun
29
May
Link
shift. getting closer to the bone and marrow
photo by Alex de Jong
it’s one of those weeks where the stars keep falling from the skys and tickle and change and everything matters. it’s one of those moments in time when in between walls the substence is dens just like on the walls themselfs, no gap. when things taste the same. the same . from the same univers it’s one of those moments in time when the gap merged for a second. infinity moment.
28
Apr
korinabisdris asked: קיבלת את התשובה שלי?
כן זה הכי מעניין אותי!
1
Apr
thing is it’s been a week in this new house. a week and two days. and yes the skys are open and the roof top is totally shaped differently. there even is a floor with some wooden floor that reminds me of an attic in paris , and a little skylight window. and yes right underneath it i placed my little carpet with that bolster and T’s bird wing, E’s circle of stones, A’s torma and my yoga mattres, and yes i found the spot where i can hang my swing rope and hang upside down in the position i love most, after more than six years that i’ve kept it aside waiting for me. and in this new house there is feeding and there is bath taking and washings to do. it’s all so banal. and thing is, every morning that candle i light first of all, and this practice i do reminds me of home and where my heart lives. and in this appt, there even is a cliff. a cliff to stand on. every day. thing is the gap between all this good, and what my body is telling me lately. it tells me to stop all my bad habits. and grow even more, grow and drop and stop and no. thing is L wrote in my sketchbook many years ago, during class, he wrote: no. no habits. no sex. no food. no. and that was after coming back from some sort of zen retreat in the 70’s in paris. and i don’t think there is much to learn really, better to practice in the daily life. trust myself just a bit more. and stop explaining all day. no need to explain.
21
Mar
moving day. 44th time in 36.5 years igloo sketch by Ori Gur.
14
Mar
thing is i wanted to change my lens, but instead of that my reality changed and the lens’s protecting rings fell all on the floor. so there was no one left in the room a part from a mirror splitting what is being reflected into two. so we thought in paralel tracks. there was not much of a discussion. time was going backwards and forward. the line in the middle was missing, there was no expression neither. just raw emotions making their way through the vains,floating. there was blood from un expected places. thing is i asked to tell you all this and you were passionate about it, mostly you were kind and containing. my heart expended to it’s extreme and so i want to thank you. thank you so much.
20
Feb
i know it’s been so long since we saw each other last
i’m sure we’ll find some way to make the time pass
hey moon
it’s just you and me tonight
everyone else is asleep
hey moon
if i was to fall, i won’t fall so deep
though i doubt i’m gonna
you can wake me up if you wanna
and your pale round face
makes me feel at home in any place i happen to be
at a quarter past three
the moon chased the sun out of the sky
goodbye sun! the night’s begun
the moon chased the sun out of the sky
goodbye sunshine! the night is mine
hey moon
it’s just you and me tonight
everyone else is asleep
hey moon
if i was to fall, i won’t fall so deep
though i doubt i’m gonna
you can wake me up if you wanna
i would hate for you to hang there all alone the whole night through
hey moon, my old friend
hey moon, the night is coming to an end
hey moon, come back soon
(Source: http)
18
Feb
salut papa
it’s your birthday and i wanted to share with you some things. so yeah it’s been a couple of years since we physically met. i think it’s almost four years now. and before that we didn’t meet for a couple of years and before that too. and that is the way we are in our relationship. we keep in touch. i developed all kind of symptoms because of this longing and also i developed very high standards of long distance relationships. it’s interesting how we are linked. from the DNA source. and i feel at home with you dad. it’s in your voice, and in you words, it’s in your silence and in your hug. i love you. i wish i could be there more present in your growing older, make you a cup of fresh orange juice, just hang out. we are a lot a like dad. thing is, i miss you too much, already 30 years i’m conscious of missing you, never having enough of time with you. is it so , that the physical distance is what makes us live a part? is it so? hmm. i’ll work hard, and try organize myself a ticket to meet you next time you are in France. i’ll put aside a bit, every week. and try and make it next time you are- not 20 hours away, but only 4.5. i wanted you to know that. that you are loved and missed by me. and i wish you a happy birth day. love, laetitia.
(Source: http)
13
Feb
NOT GOING.
i am signed up for a retreat for this afternoon. i booked it 3 months ago. first time i went was when i was 24- ten days of silence. back then we were sitting in the south and it was summer all right. 10 days i sat from morning to night. 12 years i longed for going back there. to sit again. to me, it meant the most. the most powerful sitting i ever did. but i couldn’t practice when i arrived back in town. just couldn’t. silence needed to sit in deserts, with other ppl and very structured.
today i can say that silence is less structured in my life, and i do practice it on a daily basis, but this longing is the issue. that longing . that longing brings me back home. where everything is far far away, and there for me to miss it. and there for it, to knock on my door every now and then. I’ll sit trough retreat again, i will, i know i will. and A told me that it’s honorable not to go, but dishonorable to go in doubt. so yeah, no doubt i’ve got other priorities this afternoon. or at least i think i do. breathing in this decision, and crying out in tears the reality. not going.
(Source: http)
22
Jan
last night i got a phone call from S who invited me to see the jewrythmics show. the location is right across the bridge and i had heard from two friends that at one point the lead singer throws glitters all over and it is magical. once inside i notice a woman. she seems older, i think that it’s the lady S had told me about , the one that is very special and use to sing with the band. the show begins. a screen that seperates the audience from the stage, half trans lucid, and some gorgeous video-art is playing on it. a few more songs into the show, she comes. all dressed up with her long coat, into the audience holding a mic. and starts to sing. this moment turned into a few minutes of pure .authentic . i started shooting with an iphone app . a moment i’ll remember, and after that the glitters i forgot, and left the place. what exactly happened i can’t tell. just that it was there, and that the audience was decadent and dancing all right. thanks S. thanks, again.
18
Jan
05:34 a couple of apples are pilled up inside a lens being. but in the real world it’s a huge field. and we are two nomads standing. he holds a gun shooting the photographer, in this case, the parent. and i’m holding on to by my knitted glove next to him. witnessing. we are four years old. our names are written in hand writing at the back of this photograph. i don’t remember him. uriel. i do remember the situation. i wonder where he is now. 31 years after this moment.
in any case, where ever you are, know we are printed in archival ink on cloth and framed on my wall know i’ve coated layers of transparent glues in order to protects the cloth and memory. every now and then i add a layer. maybe this way it will be safe forever. cause the blood, as you can imagine, has been washed out a long time ago. hope you like the music . i ran into it by chance Z posted it. and it made me go back to stare at us standing there, in montreal, the winter of 1979. 05:53.
14
Jan
today wer’e going up north, where snow, thunder beings and olive oil is waiting for me
as part of looking back into my origin , A sent me this series . love it. regarding the olives and the oil and the snow, my batteries are charged all right.
(Source: http)
30
Dec
A composed the wishes sound track, and it’s pure, and to me, very touching. today i’ll try and put some footage for that with R.
29
Dec
just rest in it, end of year thoughts
so the thing is that this year is ending in two three days. and R and i are making a video piece in which we ask our self and the people around us, what is it that we would like to wish for our self for the next year. and at this point in time , seeing the future is totally out of reach. and as the days go by, the next minute seem un predictable. from the cracks of my igloo the sun never felt brighter. stings my eyes and floods me . on my table are few red apples . and a candle that makes the sound of a real fire. in this new home i finally made my practice corner. and wrapped my cushion with a brand new cloth. perhaps this notion is one that symbolises the year of 2011. how elastic how liquid things are. how this thing of life and death are two ends inside a circle. and it’s matter is all the gray 64 zone. and even inside this are hidden doors, carpets to lift ,clouds to dissolve, unknown in glass little bottles and more words to kill. maybe i went through a passage of what resembles to a near death experience . from my perspective my little nation is full of bones that were left behind , i picture two sleepless hearts on that soil . inside, all i see is water level. no underworld nor upper worlds. my feet don’t touch no soil and my head not lays on any cloud. the water reaches right under my chin. enough so i can breath. enough so i can return back a smile. close enough so the tears reach the water fast and it all becomes one taste. my teacher tells me to rest in it.
this piece of story i read this year by Jorge Luis Broges.
I saw the teeming sea; I saw daybreak and nightfall; I saw the multitudes of America; I saw a silvery cobweb in the center of a black pyramid; I saw a splintered labyrinth (it was London); I saw, close up, unending eyes watching themselves in me as in a mirror; I saw all the mirrors on earth and none of them reflected me; I saw in a backyard of Soler Street the same tiles that thirty years before I’d seen in the entrance of a house in Fray Bentos; I saw bunches of grapes, snow, tobacco, lodes of metal, steam; I saw convex equatorial deserts and each one of their grains of sand; I saw a woman in Inverness whom I shall never forget; I saw her tangled hair, her tall figure, I saw the cancer in her breast; I saw a ring of baked mud in a sidewalk, where before there had been a tree; I saw a summer house in Adrogué and a copy of the first English translation of Pliny — Philemon Holland’s — and all at the same time saw each letter on each page (as a boy, I used to marvel that the letters in a closed book did not get scrambled and lost overnight); I saw a sunset in Querétaro that seemed to reflect the colour of a rose in Bengal; I saw my empty bedroom; I saw in a closet in Alkmaar a terrestrial globe between two mirrors that multiplied it endlessly; I saw horses with flowing manes on a shore of the Caspian Sea at dawn; I saw the delicate bone structure of a hand; I saw the survivors of a battle sending out picture postcards; I saw in a showcase in Mirzapur a pack of Spanish playing cards; I saw the slanting shadows of ferns on a greenhouse floor; I saw tigers, pistons, bison, tides, and armies; I saw all the ants on the planet; I saw a Persian astrolabe; I saw in the drawer of a writing table (and the handwriting made me tremble) unbelievable, obscene, detailed letters, which Beatriz had written to Carlos Argentino; I saw a monument I worshipped in the Chacarita cemetery; I saw the rotted dust and bones that had once deliciously been Beatriz Viterbo; I saw the circulation of my own dark blood; I saw the coupling of love and the modification of death; I saw the Aleph from every point and angle, and in the Aleph I saw the earth and in the earth the Aleph and in the Aleph the earth; I saw my own face and my own bowels; I saw your face; and I felt dizzy and wept, for my eyes had seen that secret and conjectured object whose name is common to all men but which no man has looked upon — the unimaginable universe.
I felt infinite wonder, infinite pity.
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