Monday, June 12, 2006

Well arrived, ready for some face plants on a bed. Long flight. Not as long as what I've gotten used to, trans-atlantic style, nevertheless, they don't feed you on airplanes anymore...I suppose this is really a blessing. But if I eat another bag of f***ing peanuts....
Only home here for 9 days, but schlepping has a new definition. Beso's in Brooklyn, greeted our dance company with margarita's and a really long supper table to fit us ...a good start.

The humid petrol air is welcomed on my Seattle bones. This time of year is what I remember best. 1995 . The Martha Graham School, the space between us hopefuls occupied by the dense body heat radiating off of us.
NY has always been a familiar stranger from the moment I set foot here to study dance at 20. 11 years later, I cheerily wrestle with this long term affair. Either way, it beckons me every 2 years or so, and I heed its irresistible call. Surely there are many artists who, non-committal in calling NY home, still thrive, working here on a project to project basis. It's quite possibly,the best way to keep both fires burning. The more geographical tension in my life, longing for greener grasses, the more fruitful my idea of WORLD is, the more generative my ideas become. HERE, here, or here. Location as a mental expansion tool, and imagination generator.
Like a mother scolding then embracing her child for going' missing, NY is taking me in, if only for a titch. I'm sure by the tour's end, she'll be kicking me out, again. Somehow, this old standard we exchange, is rather comforting, in it's predictability. It's our little ceremony.


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