HOLD ON TIGHT

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot Wednesday, August 29, 2007 saussure and classes, dancing, made me happy today. tomorrow, willie perdomo is reading his poetry here. you're all set, sweetie, the cashiers croon here, if you wear a dress. they don't say "how are you" that much as in manhattan, i suppose it's less superficial this way. i treasure my dance lessons, because i get to feel so intimately connected to people, i haven't actually talked to anyone, it's a different kind of connection, being aware of space, the spaces between bodies, dancing not to music, but to the voice of a beatboxer, moving to another body. the alabama instructor: "see these thighs, it took me years to get them", "oh c'mon, that was a joke, it's only the first week, please laugh?", "the floor's your friend", "drink lots of water, sleep, eat fruit, that's all you need", "stretch your archilles", "the most important thing in the world? breathe. when all else fails, breathe". yesterday, i climbed to the lake behind my house with a copy of the times - there were stockings and underwear strewn around the clearing, remnants of the night before. three people were splashing around the creek, screaming because they'd seen a snake, the big black girl slipped and fell over the rocks in her bikini, "you're good?" i called out, "nome, just freakin' out!" she said. the other day, i didn't know what to do, i took my bike up to sage chapel, and sat, i was better after that. i know i could love this place, i can feel my body getting stronger from the air, and i love every book i lay my hands on. but sometimes when i'm navigating a difficult sentence, just waiting in queue, my body freezes, in recollection. posted by dawn # 9:44 PM Comments: miss you, chick. # posted by Pak : 3:56 PM awww pakkkk. hope things are ok with you in switz. # posted by Dawn Lim : 9:52 PM Post a Comment << Home		[publishing] Publishers Weekly . Dystel & Goderich . New York Center for Independent Publishing . Association of American University Presses . Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators [people] clarisse . nurul . aunty zarina (ummi's bakery) . jeremy . pak . cyril . softblow . karen & kenny (booksactually) . eric . joel . [other loves] digitaljournalist . ballet dictionary . poetshouse . urbanwordnyc [me] dawn, singapore, new york city, ithaca. [yesterday] the road behind the house the breaking of all spells now that she's back in the atmosphere i am in ithaca now, learning new roads, navigating... we've known each other since we were 9 or 10 ANNOUNCEMENT! excess luggage In the sun i have been operating on two time zones for the pa... certain places [archives] January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

saussure and classes, dancing, made me happy today. tomorrow, willie perdomo is reading his poetry here. you're all set, sweetie, the cashiers croon here, if you wear a dress. they don't say "how are you" that much as in manhattan, i suppose it's less superficial this way. i treasure my dance lessons, because i get to feel so intimately connected to people, i haven't actually talked to anyone, it's a different kind of connection, being aware of space, the spaces between bodies, dancing not to music, but to the voice of a beatboxer, moving to another body. the alabama instructor: "see these thighs, it took me years to get them", "oh c'mon, that was a joke, it's only the first week, please laugh?", "the floor's your friend", "drink lots of water, sleep, eat fruit, that's all you need", "stretch your archilles", "the most important thing in the world? breathe. when all else fails, breathe".
yesterday, i climbed to the lake behind my house with a copy of the times - there were stockings and underwear strewn around the clearing, remnants of the night before. three people were splashing around the creek, screaming because they'd seen a snake, the big black girl slipped and fell over the rocks in her bikini, "you're good?" i called out, "nome, just freakin' out!" she said. the other day, i didn't know what to do, i took my bike up to sage chapel, and sat, i was better after that. i know i could love this place, i can feel my body getting stronger from the air, and i love every book i lay my hands on. but sometimes when i'm navigating a difficult sentence, just waiting in queue, my body freezes, in recollection.

posted by dawn # 9:44 PM

Comments:

miss you, chick.

# posted by

Pak : 3:56 PM

awww pakkkk. hope things are ok with you in switz.

# posted by

Dawn Lim : 9:52 PM