Category: meditation

• March 9, 2012

  ‘The fingers on the face reside on the face’: A short dramatic performance

  This week, one conversation partner put a copy of Bruce Mau’s “An Incomplete Manifesto for Growth” into my hands. The “Manifesto” contains 43 design statements. My eyes came to rest on no. 39: Coffee breaks, cab rides, green rooms. Real growth often happens outside of where we intend it to, in the interstitial spaces–what Dr. Seuss…
• March 7, 2012

  Of an African horse and a mad-grinning man

  So I’m at, what?, 54th and 6th and there’s this horse right? and I’m thinking Af–shushu–fric–shushu–ca and what the fuck right? because I must’ve heard Africa from the mouths of this pea-coated couple standing on the corner somewhere before who knows when walking whereto and why the fuck am I thinking Africa as this horse on 54th and 6th…
• March 6, 2012

  Childhood… tire swings… growing up: A spiritual exercise in drawing material inferences

  3.5 Morning. You’re welcome, and I’d be delighted. An aside: I love opening these rainbow colored documents and not at first being able to tell whose voice is whose. Did I say that? Did you? Does it matter? Well, no. Good morning, A. Not sure exactly what this document is. Reminders to me? Notes to…
• March 5, 2012

  On walking home from school

  I said, “If ever I have a girl, I would like to name her Marilynne. Wouldn’t that be something?” She said, “I think it would be something if you could name a daughter Marilynne.” I must have been 8 years old when I first started walking home from school. That would have put me in…
• March 3, 2012

  Of parabolas, East of Eden, and biting philosophies

  A scene: Late afternoon at the playground. A boy, towheaded, with eyes the color of turquoise, and a man, early 30s, with pelo dorado and eyes of wolf-blue. Green jacket against green tire swing against red corduroy pants. The man pushes the boy at regular intervals. The boy’s eyes draw a parabola on the way out,…