Sunday, November 30, 2008

Saturday, November 29, 2008

While walking up a borrowed coastline

for miles and miles
clutter the pavement like
filthy sapphires
stumbling between feet as i walk
past the woman
skin like
folded driftwood
staring out lost
at sea
over waves glittering with
like the rings my mother gave me
(which are also lost)
i wear too many clothes and
take off my hat
to push back hair
which sticks to my face like
warm amber
the boy on the motorcycle
looks at me for three seconds
too long and
blossom in my cheeks
while the old man
peeling a cucumber
(and all my coy verses)
row after row of
imperfect ivory
(like the keys of the piano under which
all the baby mice died.)

Chewy, by Marilyn Minter.

Friday, November 28, 2008

Wouldn't it be easier to say

that I'd seduced a catholic priest?

Thursday, November 27, 2008

As a matter of fact

- Wendy and I walked through a vortex between the sixth and seventh block of Pacific Street.

- The fifth block of Pacific Street smells curiously of birthday candles, but only uphill.

- A lack of the right words makes you walk as if navigating spider webs.

- I don't take what isn't given.

(art by Junko Mizuno.)

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

No Context

Sara: It's times like these that make me regret not properly learning to play my banjo.

Grant: Instead you're staring at hundreds of boxes of Fiddle Faddle, through the windows of the 99cent store.

I was trying to explain my brother Grant to someone last night. I finally settled on "a blustery victorian gentlemen." But with a mild case of Tourettes. Grant always manages to say something completely inappropriate.

Thus far:
"I have to say, I'd really like to snack on Will Smith."

"Eden, stop crossing yourself in front of churches; it's totally inappropriate. Just kidding, cross yourself all you want."

"This movie will give you your period."

"Breakfast is always better with a handful of santos watching."

"I can almost touch his part!"

"Go get her! He got her. Boom goes the dynamite."


Tuesday, November 25, 2008


This morning at 7am my little brother Mitch called me. (First off, Mitch rarely calls, second, everyone in my family knows not to try to talk to me before 10am.)

Mitch: Hello, Sara. How many crows would you say is a scary number of crows?

Sara: Uhm. More than forty?

We are used to huge numbers of crows, starlings, etc, swooping down into our yard and zooming off. However, Mitchell was unprepared for the THOUSANDS of crows that suddenly covered our entire street. He sent me this cool picture. He was mildly terrified.

This is all the creepy Southern Atlantic Magic I miss while being on the West Coast! Geez. I guess they were finally migrating? Also, I hope they were actually the souls of thousands of dead people. Migrating.

We hope you turn blue!

The poetry SMACK! at Felice's was awesome. I found some new favorites, for sure. I always forget how much I dig poetry, until there it is, making my hands sweat and my face flush. It's super sexy, even when it doesn't have anything to do with sex. Language-- so hot right now!

Monday, November 24, 2008

Give me


(Click for full view.)

Sunday, November 23, 2008

A word of caution:

Don't try to make left turns late at night while singing to Beyoncé-- you will totally get in a wreck. I didn't, but you might.

Also, don't drive if you are seeing sparkles.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

I don't want to be your ( ), I just want to be your ( ).

My older brother Sam keeps insisting that all matters of love and romance would become smooth sailing if I would just invoke the power of Michael Bolton. So here is my ode to the man, the legend, the Soul Provider.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Remember how

you've had moderately to severely persistent asthma since the age of two? Yeah, don't go ride your bike ten miles through a bunch of smoke.

Friday, November 14, 2008

Small Victories; Huge Losses.

So I realize my blog tends to wade in the melancholy end of things, so I thought I would make a list of a few of the things that made today great.

- Didn't leave my bed until ten am. Hooray the flexibility of a hobo life.

- Surprise nine dollars left in my checking account. Hooray Poom Thai lunch special!

- Was still so hyped over yesterday's rehearsal that I was choreographing in the shower. When the Lord said that Heaven was better than we could even imagine, did He realize that we could find a way to combine water, dancing, and nudity on Earth?

- Told Em I was bored at the studio; asked her to bring brownies, diet coke, and gossip. She did. Friendship!

- The return of Sparklepants. Dax is right, if more people were like her, our country would be a much better place.

- I missed the ice skating, but was able to ride my bike to Renee's after work. Hot chocolate, hot people, merkins, and slumping. Circle slumping, even!

- Riding downhill, the whole way home.

- Came home and read this anecdote on a message board. Please note the second incident. Power shift!

My feminist high didn't last long, however.

I checked Jezebel, and immediately read this. Allah save us. Seriously. Your daughters are in need of some serious avenging. Soon, soon, soon.

Monday, November 10, 2008

The Mourning After

My bed is full of weeping girls.

What exactly does that mean, feng shui-wise?

Saturday, November 8, 2008


You won't regret it.

(Photo by Marja Rawlings.)

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Starry Starry You, Starry Starry Me

Dance making, and by extension creating, is like walking out under a vast night sky. First there is just you, and an infinity of stars. But then you start to connect one star to another, and then another. You begin to form constellations, and suddenly there are patterns, stories, and meaning. Even the empty places are ignited with purpose and potentiality.

There you are, in the midst of everything.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008


I am not usually very public with my politics. but i just need to express how happy i am to be alive for this. I grew up with open-minded and loving parents. My hardships in the realm of civil rights and racial equality have been few.

I am just a small white girl from the South.

But I just have to say.

I am so happy I helped elect our first black president.

Monday, November 3, 2008

But all I had to give was the guilt for dreaming.

Sometimes God doesn't answer my prayers right away. Sometimes he just sends David Bowie songs in the interim. I suppose I am grateful. I am also thankful for three hour dance classes where I have to completely let go of everything outside and just focus on pushing my body through and beyond pain. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Thank God.