there is this fire in me about the way I feel about communal eating. I don’t know where it comes from but I strongly believe sharing a meal gives us wealth and nutrition. I don’t mean vitamins and minerals. I mean ‘hey, you belong there’s a seat for you as well.’ There’s wonderment in creating share foods, enrolling into all my memories of adventuring Eastern cuisines where communal hospitality is just so innate! My creativity, my joy and my love for wonderment/excitement comes from this feeling. This intuitive feeling of knowing that it takes just a couple of dishes to meld/build connections, to feel ‘nourished’ and to just forget about everything for a couple of hours is what keeps me wanting more from myself and to follow through with all said intentions. Magic. It’s truly magical where your vision can go.
it could all be so simple, but you’d rather make it hard ( e x f a c t o r )
too weird to live, too rare to die ( l o s t )
and when I'm standing in this mirror
after all these years
what I'm viewing is a little different
from what your eyes show you ( s u p e r p o w e r)
come to the place where the skin speaks ( b e a u t i f u l t a n g o )
and as painful as journeys go, twists and backflips - the circus.
dearest fear and uncomfort, I just keep letting you back and I can’t let you go
you cry for me. you die for me. you give to me. you’re there for me. you care for me?
'If diversity is a source of wonder, its opposite - the ubiquitous condensation to some blandy amorphous and singularly generic modern culture that takes for granted an impoverished environment - is a source of dismay. There is, indeed, a fire burning over the earth, taking with it plants and animals, cultures, languages, ancient skills and visionary wisdom. Quelling this flame, and re-inventing the poetry of diversity is perhaps the most important challenge of our times.' - Wade Davis
"I like creating magic. When I explain magic.. I mean wonderment, excitement, the unexpected, escapism, creating something that's so incredible - an illusion, to put people in the situation -- no matter what it may be -- to give them totally the opposite of the unexpected.. so much more than what they thought would happen. I mean just, blow their minds. I like to create magic, excellence. I love doing that. There's nothing like it. I try to do it in everything I do." - Michael Jackson (1984)
just a handful is all I’ve ever wanted. nothing more, nothing less.
‘your hands! look at them! they are all rough like a man’ my mother would moan, after a few hours playing on the monkey bars at the school’s playground. how I loved testing my strength and seeing how far I could leap and catch myself on those bars.
hockey sticks, racquets, sprints, you couldn’t stop me, or my rough hands - at my mother’s disproval
dipping them into flour, stretching dough, stripping all natural oils washing hands all throughout those 15 hour days
learning to burn fingertips - ‘get use to the oil splats, it’s nothing’.
offering both hands out
learning to reach out with one, and keeping one to myself
having no control and having both hands away from me
to carry the ones in need, to play and to cherish all child like wonder
pushing myself down
holding on to what makes sense, i build myself back up
the sensations of clay and sculpting
stating fire with movements
ma, my hands have been blistered, ripped, handled my flaws and crafting my dreams. ‘rough like a man’ or ‘flawed but grasping patience’ ?
They taunt me like a bird caged by scorched wings
Puzzle pieces missing
The grubby fingerprints that kissed the walls have vanished
Like the wind without her whisperings
And the colours wept from all her tapestries
Would be left nothing but sullen imagery
The uncertainty of forgotten things
- fingerprints, hiatus kaiyote
All this time
The Sun never says to the Earth, “ You owe me.” Look
With a love like that,
It lights the whole sky.
if i gave you my all, but stayed unidentifiable, am i still relevant to the resolution?
if I supported you, cherished you, always gave you time, only to have you turn around without a single sense of gratitude, should I build a fiery rage inside? Is this just?
if I cried because you didn’t realise how hard I’ve worked to become my whole, is it the flaw that will create barriers? running through nostalgia, how I loved you so.
if i didn’t show up on your finale, but directed your matinee, will you know how much weight my shoulders carries for you, just to see you blossoming, will you know? will you?
if I act differently, act privately, act independently, refusing your discussion or support, will you still allow me in? or is it alien to?
- I’ll give you a piece, my heart’s still at bay
Your home, (sleep as your figure becomes the stone, the stone)
Your head, (time with the family, sleep the wheel, the tomb)
Take form, (dance with the atrophy cold and warmth)
First body, last body
So lean me up and take a picture, I can't move my legs and arms
It's too much information, too - much to be thinking of
And each of us have separate houses, and each of us have separate souls
And some of us do nothing, some - some of us do nothing more