Namaste

I wasn't going to blog about yoga, because i take it very seriously.
But tonight was an exception.
The whole purpose of yoga is that you think about your body and not the outside world. This allows you that little inner window that could be expanded and be called Peace. No matter what is going on around you, you should (with practice) be able to filter out any extraneous sound/activity and concerntrate on the minutiae of the asanas.
There used to be a group of people who sat outside the building drinking and shouting at each other. That was when i practised this technique.
Recently though, there has been a choir singing African songs/the hits of Paul Simon in the room down the hall. There was also a meeting of the Kippax Flat Earth Society in the adjoining room. (This joke is purely for the benefit of my sister and no-one else - i don't know who they were really.)

We were all trying our best with Akarna Dhanurasana.

Homeless Homeless
Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake

"Now bring your foot closer to your ear"

Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih
Somebody sing Hello Hello Hello

"..and closer if you can"

Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih Somebody cry Why Why Why

They actually came out into the hallway at one point. Their voices wrapping round us.

I didn't fare so well in Sirsasana. I was just getting to three minutes when i actually stopped thinking about the pose. I started thinking about something else entirely, and fell on my ass.

F.E.A.R

This morning, Comedy Dave played Ian Brown's F.E.A.R on 'Tedious Link'. I have to admit i had tears rolling down my face. I absolutely love that song. It's one of those songs, which i wouldn't put on my i-pod (if i had one, which regrettably i don't). I wouldn't put it on my i-pod because i like to choose my moments for my favourite albums. Obviously i have played it many times since 2001, but i would hate to ruin it by hearing it too much. Also, it would be very inconvenient to be crying in that way, unexpectedly in inappropriate places.
I saw Mr. Brown perform that song on TV - i think it was that Eden Project gig last year. I really hope i get to see that for myself at some point. I cried then as well. My friend and i texted each other some of the lyrics like a couple of teenagers. There is nothing to say about Ian Brown that isn't a cliche, that hasn't been said before, so i'll stop now.

It seemed clear to the Pythagoreans that the distances between the planets would have the same ratios as produced harmonious sounds in a plucked string. To them, the solar system consisted of ten spheres revolving in circles about a central fire, each sphere giving off a sound the way a projectile makes a sound as it swished through the air: the closer spheres gave lower tones while the farther moved faster and gave higher pitched sounds. All combined into beautiful harmony, the music of the spheres.

Indian Prince

Yesterday i went for a walk in one of my favourite parks, and i saw a guy who keeps cropping up.
I first met him at the disaster-piece festival last summer. We were the only two people eating this terrible food from one of the few stalls that were there, at about 2am in the morning. He talked about what it was like being the only Indian guy where he had been to school in New Zealand.
Then he stopped me at Across the Tracks and said, "Hi, I knew i'd see you here! My girlfriend said, 'Well how are you going to remember what she looks like?' and i told her, 'I'll remember'."
So, yesterday he appears in the park with his girlfriend and three other girls. He kissed me on the cheek (platonically of course). But it all seemed too weird. I tried to make conversation with the girlfriends, but it was too much effort, so i said "Nice to see you" and went on my way.

I was actually going to the heather garden because my grandad's ashes were sprinkled there -I was going to ask him for some help with my love life. Over the last couple of years, it seems like i have had a sign above my head (that everyone but i can see) saying Men in Relationships, Please Apply Here.
I'm hoping that this is a phase of my life that will soon be replaced by some other, more satisfying phase that is not about what i cannot have.

36 m.p.h

I can't believe this.
I just received a NOTICE OF INTENDED PROSECUTION
.............for speeding!!!!**
This is great. I can't describe the relish with which i filled in the back part, thereby providing my personal details for intended prosecution. I was only momentarily distracted by the fact that i can't afford to be fined for anything, never mind something as ridiculous as this.
The funniest bit is that i was only doing 36 in a 30 zone: there is leeway that allows you to go 5 over the speed limit, so in fact , technically, i was only 1 m.p.h.over!
"Your honour, there were extenuating circumstances. I had just been subjected to the lunacy of the woman i am about to buy a house from for over an hour! In addition to this, i was made late for an extremely important hair appointment. My hairdresser himself commented that I had never been late: in the whole 15 years that he has been cutting my hair, i have never once been late for an appointment."
This is so not rock and roll. Next time i'm on that stretch, i'm going to make sure i really put my foot on the pedal.
More haste.....

Who's that lady?

I have finally found an image for my profile!

Girls: some of you may recognise this woman.
Guys: you may have to ask your girlfriend or girl friend.

She's the woman who hides those things which should not be seen to come out.
Inevitably though, all things which are held inside for a time, must come out. Even those things which are most often thought of as unpleasant, even nasty; that are not that socially acceptable or desired to be seen in public, should have a place to go.
She's the woman who gives those things a place to hide.

Crinoline skirts- perfect for concealing all manner of secrets!

God, i love my own jokes.

Chile Day

My friend invited me to her house for Chile Day. We ate fantastic food with her family and friends, and we danced till 2 am. The older couples danced La cuenta to traditional Chilean music with white handkerchiefs for dramatic emphasis. Their children put on Brasilian and reggae variations of the same. The next generation down fought in a heap over the contents of the pinyata.
I had to dance barefoot in the end because my boots were restricting my feet.
There was a boy from the Dominican Republic who had me completely entranced. He was beautiful and he managed to lead the whole room when he was dancing. He danced with all the older women in a way that was sexy enough to be flattering but respectful at the same time. I looked at his hand on a woman's back. It made kind of an 'S' shape as he held her. He was guiding her in a really subtle but amazing way. He was setting a limit for her body without restricting the ebb and flow of the dance.
The father of one of the gorgeous Latino girls told me about growing up in a shanty town in Chile. His parents had no money and sent him out to look for food. He did not find food as often as he found books, and he taught himself to read English and French.
In order to stop Pinochet's special police force from literally washing out their homes with water cannons, the people of la favela erected a Chilean Flag in it's centre. This made the site untouchable and they named the shanty La Victoria. A. is writing the stories of his childhood, and has said he will show me the photos he took recently when he returned to visit the place in which he grew up.
This week is an different anniversary for the Chilean people. A. said that Allende was a socialist and told me that when he saw the twin towers go down he thought he was watching a re-run of a bad disaster movie. He was not happy to see those people die, he said, but that date should also remind the US of what they did to Chile.

Mary

Things are looking up.
Today Radio One had their Scissor Sisters day.
Now i have mixed feelings about the Scissor Sisters. When i first heard them i thought, 'Why would you need these guys when you could just listen to Elton John?'
However, driving home from work tonight listening to Scott Mills, i thought it would be really good if they performed 'Mary'. It's the only song of theirs that i really like. It could actually be considered to be a fitting tribute to Elton circa 1973 rather than just completely replicating his sound. It has that combination of swirly electronic break and heartfelt piano that Elton did so well.
When they played it, i felt like a small wish had come true.
We could all do with more of that now couldn't we?

Losing the plot

I'm extremely unsettled at the moment. I think I'm on the brink of massive changes, but it's not happening soon enough as far as i'm concerned. My copying paranoia has been activated.

Therapist: Let's reframe this particular destructive tendency. After all it stops you from sharing things with people.
Nina: Okay... (desperate to get rid of it).
Therapist: You could look at it as influencing people in a positive way.
Nina: Go on. (thinks- please don't say 'Imitation is the best form of flattery.')
Therapist: After all, you've probably been influenced by many people in many ways yourself. Think of it as generosity, you could just let it go.

Maybe i just need to get laid.
Not laid by just anyone though. Laid by someone who i really, really want. Someone who really, really wants me.
There's only so long a girl can last on just masturbation and chocolate.

Where were you?

This day five years ago, i was coming back from a job interview and was calling my friend to update her. It had sounded like a teaching job with some technicians duties, but it turned out to be a technicians job, with some teaching duties. She said, "Just switch on the television a minute. There's a plane flying into a building."
We watched the plane gliding towards the towers and felt the resulting mayhem and confusion. Like everyone else, i then couldn't turn the TV off. I had been thinking of quitting my masters degree, and the programme director rang me (a minute after i put the phone down) to tell me not to leave, to take as long as i needed to finish. It was good advice, ten months later i wrote a brilliant dissertation on Sophie Calle.

I'm aware that there are tragedies and massive loss of life all over the world - and far too often; but there is something about this image that has retained it's shock value. Despite it's endless replaying, it never suffers from compassion fatigue. As well as this, this event was one which revealed one of the primary functions of blogging.

If you'd like to put the whole thing back together again, you should look at this film clip by artist Runa Islam.

Dark, Dark, Dark

I didn't do what i was supposed to do this weekend. I've let myself be consumed by that thing that makes me look at everything as though under a microscope.
I was supposed to go and stay with N and Dimitri. I want to write about Dimitri, or make a film about their life or something. But i didn't go. The self-destruct button had been leaned on. I convinced myself that i could not do it, that the circumstances were not right: so here i am. Things are not as they should be in my life. I feel like i need somone to help, i can't do it all on my own anymore. I'm in fucking pain and i need it to go away. I can rationalize and see that i am healthy and intelligent and in many ways blessed but it does not make the slightest bit of difference when i feel like this.
I know that this will go away, and that it doesn't even last as long as it used to, but i cannot help but mourn for all that wasted time.

Sting in the.....

It's the story on the lips of school children world-wide.
Steve Irwin is dead.
A real life super-hero has been defeated. The man wrestled crocodiles; it was highly theatrical but undeniably real. His death is also spectacular in it's nature. A wierd reversal of the Dracula myth, we see him pulling the barb from his heart. We don't need to see the TV show footage. We can see it all. I've already seen the tape of the last moments, I've already seen the film of his life with it's dramatic and upsetting finale.
I wonder did he write his own plot? Did he think he was invincible or did he always have a sneaking suspicion that he would die in bizarre circumstances, doing what he was famous for?

I've just realised the idiocy of what i've just said. People who take more than the average quota of risk probably don't go round speculating on their own death any more than anyone else does. I don't know what i'm trying to say here. There are just some images that are collectively compelling, and oddly, this is one.

The story so far

One of my objectives for last weekend was to put up some posters advertising my new storytelling project. I'm looking for people to tell me stories about a particular bar, with which i have had a long and meaningful relationship.
So, off i go, posters at the ready, camera in hand; to the big city.
I completely bottled it. I went home, not having visited any of the carefully picked destinations on my itinerary. When it came down to it, i was really scared that once i start this, i'm going to have to do it. And although i think this is a great idea, i was immobilised with fear. The gremlin of self -doubt was muttering in my ear.
I tried not to berate myself further and went to see SOAP, going for a drink afterwards. Looking down the pub to my left, i saw two guys who had been practically permanent fixtures in the bar in question. It was like something from a film. A perfect segue in the plot. I didn't even know their names, but i remembered their faces. One of them was bursting to tell me his story, but i managed to persuade him to save it.
I love it when an idea has a life of it's own, then you know you're on to something.