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 Monday, February 04, 2008 a certain violence did an improv thing with jim, the dancemaster. we were paired up, and made to perform duets in front of the class. and i ended up with him, a strange pair, him with the baldness and paunch. i sprinted around the grandpiano, and entrapped him with chairs, while he in turn, tried to hold down my arms, upon which i ended up leaping through his arms and jumping over him. it actually turned out very beautiful, and i was stunned by the violence in me, that certain violence that has never seemed to leave me after all these years. sometimes i think this dance of death, is all we have, to keep us from weeping. posted by dawn # 4:31 PM Comments: 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] superbowl slush and snow the strangest thing hopes and dreams stone soup random book trivia interlude dropped things meeting my mom on facebook for the first time deja vu [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

Monday, February 04, 2008

a certain violence

did an improv thing with jim, the dancemaster. we were paired up, and made to perform duets in front of the class. and i ended up with him, a strange pair, him with the baldness and paunch. i sprinted around the grandpiano, and entrapped him with chairs, while he in turn, tried to hold down my arms, upon which i ended up leaping through his arms and jumping over him. it actually turned out very beautiful, and i was stunned by the violence in me, that certain violence that has never seemed to leave me after all these years. sometimes i think this dance of death, is all we have, to keep us from weeping.

posted by dawn # 4:31 PM

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