Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Pigeon of the day: University of South Florida St. Petersburg. The Marine campus

I am rushing in to speak to Jill McCracken's class about the sex worker literary canon. Then, to last session of spring semester with Pace. The girls are doing a performance art today. Really, they are short monologues that resemble the fault in our stars, but that is okay too. Then, special needs trust lawyer, then, burlesque client. Then, packing the Chihuahua and my sloppy performance bodywork outline for the open embodiments conference in Tucson. Things. Doing things. It is terrifying. And only occurs to me to really enjoy them at odd moments, when I am half-asleep.

Monday, April 6, 2015

On Easter Sunday, we went to Catholic mass at the church where I used to spend a lot of time as a teenager worried about being a sexually aberrant human being.

I dressed as Mary magdalene, if she shopped at Rainbow outlet, though I can't tell you if that was intentional or not, because i was half asleep from an overnight ride in a big rig as research for me book. My mom dressed as the Virgin Mary. Or, a very dark-skinned girl at her first communion. My stepfather dressed like Miami Vice. the three of us are 5'5 and under. Then there was my domestic partner, he refers to himself as "my husband's wife". he dressed like a Mennonite. He stood 6'2. we went for him. because he had a french grandmother, madeline, but he had never seen catholic mass. The music sounded like Dracula.

My counselor today--she laughed when I said the church did not burst into flames upon my entry. She is is a Buddhist, but grew up Catholic. Then, she told me that the new Pope has started to go into prisons, both men and women's prisons. To wash the feet of inmates. And that sounded like the best post-Easter news ever.

 Body of Christ.

Saturday, April 4, 2015

Laura Ann Samuelson helps me understand the Norah jones of my past


Kitsch


the real woman's body (yes yes yes,essentialzingnuse of the real, but isn;t just a spectrum metaphor to to indicate an attempt to measure and also, just be, standing outside measurement). Kitsch is real, I've aways thought. When it listens to Norah Jones circa just post 9/11, lonely old bus depot city stricken by AIDS and then forget,  stricken later by 140 characters (which I now can;t speak without) to crowd out real renters. And 50,000 later for art school Norah Jones who lives n Starbucks incidentally. But this is Laura Ann Samuelson and she gets married to her partner who is paper, the sound of festive lively paper stuffed into a car and disappearing in the night. I don't know her, but through Bhanu's blog, but I wish I did!


Thursday, April 2, 2015

Flordacana: Selina Roman



Revelations in Purgatory 
An experimental project -- stream of conscious, self-curated galleries that will change and overlap. These are ruminations on place, both physical and psychological.  

When every breath here is a desaturated exhale of your former self.

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Skype, the wisdom of the poopeating dog, Neesie and I prepare for AZ

Squishy me on Denise Leto's Skype screen https://onecontinuousword.wordpress.com Me in her glasses and iPhone. Sans the tiny brindle Freudian chihuahua who attended my last Skype commune with Neese. Soon, Foxy Brown and I will be sharing a Marriott room with Neese in Tucson at the SomaTechnics conference. My somatic counselor, also a yoga teacher for crack-addicted sex workers and woman in prison in FL, is almost done with the paperwork that will entitle me to travel with my acarological focal chi-hu-a as an emotional support animal. Many thanks to Leeny Sack, performance art professor at Naropa who encouraged me to embrace this relationship. I wish for the life of me that I could recall the name of her ESA dog. Or that I could find her bodyworker friends which she scribbled in my notebook, ladies who had ended up on this same FL deserted island.

Denise I hope to be deeply satisfied by our still fledglings my efforts (hers more advanced than mine) at performance art at the Tucson panel. We also hope to dance at the sex worker after party. And that there is a hot tub at the Marriott. And that the streetcar to downtown Tucson is wheelchair accessible, and that maybe My little fox will curb her scarily gy for the sake of academia. Or not. I mean, open embodiment, right?

Friday, March 6, 2015

Rt 3315 flordacana poem


They gather to applaud the sunset. "I'm here from Columbus, Ohio to escape the snow – – yeah, I'm working in insurance claims...there was a drone up there late at night."  He points to the streaks of violet above the Gulf.

The dog throws up a piece of chili cheese dog right before hot pink flarees on the horizon-- just missing the Canadians sipping Millers on our shared sea wall. 

Phosphorescent. A  glow-in-the-dark jellyfish in hot still waters. 

The Space Coast is another thing entirely, but still, there are drones. Up there. 

"Hey hon, order me one of those limaritas."

Just before the green flash, everyone stands and a tiny old woman in a miniskirt rings the maritime bell.







Saturday, February 28, 2015

On Bhanu's blog yesterday

I am on the Friday interview series on Bhanu Kapil's blog. Talking more freely, about my life In this Desert Island in Florida, and sex work art, then I ever have. BK, like a good bodyworker, holding the space for me. (To embrace the dirt shit sex base of my typos as art language.) http://jackkerouacispunjabi.blogspot.com/2015/02/friday-interview-series-amber-dipietra.html?m=1
I am a little embarrassed to post this now, as her most recent post tells about the death of a Bangledeshi blogger, meat cleaver end to death on the way home. His girlfriend only had her finger chopped off, but she lost him. I am ending another love. Hopefully, I won't be punished, on my way home from this dive bar. Going out alone at 2am as a tiny, disabled woman. Is there ever a question of deserving? Is that to be too dramatic? Just be wise to the street and working class? I hate everything about this question. But I love all of you and ever sheltered poor someone right here on n this wet Bukowski island.  

Thursday, February 26, 2015

loss, sexuality, movement, and trauma through the lens of performance art, dance, disability, ​poetry, and sex work.

Our panel in Tuscon, April 17--so excited!




Opening Trauma into Transformation: The Politics and Poetics of Embodied Knowledge in Physical Difference and Disability

This panel explores loss, sexuality, movement, and trauma through the lens of performance art, dance, disability, ​poetry, and sex work. As intertwined artists, the bright light we stand in is that of transformation through embodied inquiry. Elements of the panel invite audience participation/sensory immersion. 



Amber DiPietra:


“The Disabled Sex(ological Body) Worker: a Poetics of invisible, Intimate Performance”


Amber Dipietra, as a body and personality, has moved on an arc from socially-isolated child with a disability, to poet, to disability advocate, to escort, to intimacy coach. She recently moved from San Francisco to St. Petersburg, FL where she has started a a local chapter of the Sex Workers Outreach Project, swoptampabay,org.. Find her at adipietra.blogspot.com and thebodypeotik.com



Violet Juno:


"Portals to Transformation: Body, Art, Architecture and Sound"


Violet Juno is a transdisciplinary performance artist who has performed and exhibited at 70 venues in 36 cities since 1990. She combines text, sound, visual tableaus, kinetic sculpture, movement and a unique form of three-dimensional mapping to create multisensory experiences for her audience. Her work addresses issues involving disability/embodiment, trauma/transformation, and the poetic tension between language and languagelessness. More info at www.violet.juno.com



Margit Galanter:


"Vivid Spaces: Movement as a Re-source"


Margit Galanter is a movement educator, arts investigator, and dance poet living in Oakland, CA. Her fascination with the potency of movement -- the multiplicity of tones, its cultural efficacy, the composing -- has drawn her to embodied inquiry for decades. She has presented, performed, and taught her work throughout the US, and has a thriving practice in the Bay Area called Physical Intelligence Life Arts, where she finds the greatest understanding through the mysteries that emerge from the speculative nature of conversation, creative collaboration, and shared practice. PI Practice: www.physicalintellgence.org * Arts: www.margitg.wordpress.com


Denise Leto:


“Postcard Divinations, Embodied Loss, and the Poetics of Origin: A Grief Geography”

Denise Leto is a poet, editor, and explorer of multigenre and collaborative forms of media and performance. She wrote the libretto for the performance piece, Your Body is Not a Shark, which examined the poetics of embodied difference and disability through music, text, and dance. Recently, she was awarded a Fellowship from the Bread Loaf Writer’s Conference in Sicily and was the recipient of the Orlando Poetry Prize. onecontinuousword@wordpress.com

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

in Flordacana land, manatee record is broken

as 300 hundred sea cows take shelter in three sisters, a 1 acre warm spring.

In far off news, in Taiwan, my mind keeps arching backward, to a balcony. To understand just how my friend fell. He died a few days ago. My co-worker and fellow disability advocate, who lived with multiple disabilities and had just saved up to move across the world to live with his girlfriend and study computer science. My mind keeps arcing back to the moment of the mis-step or the giving-way, or even, the thoughts in his head as he fell. As if, in knowing, I might be able to erase or ease or hold on. To catch him in soft, still water.


Thank you for that day sliding sideways in Golden Gate Park, Derek.

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