Thé Noir Petit Dejeuner

Strategies of encounter. Collages of connection.

Aura Rosenberg & Mary Heilmann, Eve and Carmen, 1997

I sometimes feel like I need to, like, consciously move away from certain assumptions. I feel just like that Prince song (I feel like a lot of Prince songs): "Maybe I'm just like my mother... /Maybe I'm just like my father..." Like maybe the assumptions I'm working with are not necessarily my thing to worry about. I notice behavioral patterns in myself that I can trace to my parents, my friends, former lovers, etc.

I once had a boyfriend who had this really goofy overbite. It wasn't like a real overbite, it was (I assume) affected. I thought it was cute and started doing it for about eleven days and then realized that the energy I was using trying to impersonate the object of my desire could just be spent engaging in the pursuit of desire, generally. The point is: Let it go! Make a new way of being, I guess.

The tension is when or when not to listen to the voice of doubt in your head. When do you turn off the little ticker that says you undeserving of love and happiness? It sounds extreme, but for real! When do you decide that the other person is having a bad day, that they're not out to get you? When the person you like likes you back? When the loop of sexual desire is (for the moment) closed, completed? When the circuit is firing? Who knows.

Shigeko Kubota performing Vagina Painting, 1964. Photo by George Maciunas.

I like when it's raining b/c it reminds me of Winters in the Bay Area. Thinking about emblems of this feeling: waiting for Mars to turn direct, for Springtime. For the next thing to happen.
I'm working on some new pieces: a new zine and the beginnings of a new show. Encourager. For mostly personal reasons. For person reasons.

Cake Like's brilliant 1995 debut album Delicious, which you can download thanks to the very cool blog I Could Die Tomorrow. I remember saving up my allowance to buy this CD at Tower Records in Berkeley. It was something like $17 cause it only ever came out in Japan, on John Zorn's Avant label. When I was a teenager this was maybe my favorite record (possibly their next one, Bruiser Queen, prophetic personal voodoo title). Also: Rita Ackermann's cover art, right?

The video for "Suck" from this album:

Hi ho Silver away.

Thinking a lot about being misinterpreted. About misunderstanding. And about the recuperation thereof. And forgiving people for things that they may not even have been sorry for doing in the first place. I am imagining someone whom I've grievously offended without knowing it, and that they have consciously opened their heart in forgiveness. That they've given me another shot.

Andrea Fraser, Untitled. 2003.

And misinterpretations of physical presence. The awe-inspiring act of fucking. In a broad sense. The brilliant and the banal and the personal. It hurts! It's okay, though, too, to be silly.

Subway interventions photographed by Ptrick.

Or just. You know. Make Mistakes.

And then get back up.

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