dance #35, On coming undone

On coming undone

Text:
“It was raining in the quadrangle, and the quadrangular sky looked like the grimace of a robot or a god made in our own likeness. The oblique drops of rain slid down the blades of grass in the park, but it would have made no difference if they had slid up. Then the oblique (drops) turned round (drops), swallowed up by the earth underpinning the grass, and the grass and the earth seemed to talk, no, not talk, argue, their incomprehensible words like crystallized spiderwebs or the briefest crystallized vomitings, a barely audible rustling, as if instead of drinking tea that afternoon, Norton had drunk a steaming cup of peyote.”

Roberto Bolaño, 2666, Chapter I, “The Part About the Critics”, p. 9

dance #35

Midnight. A 5 minute dance in the study to an excerpt of a novel I just started reading.  Recommended by a friend. Jittery moves. Turning me inside out. Generating intensities that release in awkward gestures. Breath forced and rhythmic. Robotic. Feeling darkness.

A freakishly cold night, -13 degrees Celsius (not including wind chill) and falling. Alice is in the house.

~ by nmyers on January 25, 2009.