Captain's log star date blah blah


26.10.19   Trip to Lugano

riding up in the rain, the day before yesterday, I was struck by the power that metaphors can have. E.g. I am riding in the rain. I can travel in rain, find beauty and interest in rain.  It is an excellent test for my clothes, how to build them better for next time.

But the _fact_ that I was doing the trip at all, up the mountain _despite the rain_ says, in a larger sense, the weather, the circumstances, do not rule. Aches and pains, as Ruth Ginsberg said. In the valley, they'll do that to ya clickity clack. One, two, three.

This, "I am not that" thing -- that there is rain and there is me -- shined as a great symbol, in my mind and for my whole life.


22.9.19   after Heidelberg

I will enjoy my blue hammock, blue socks and pants, hanging betweeen 2 trees, in the Thuringian horse country, the oddness of this my 'colorful me',

to compensate for my (fear of dying) For my shock of realizing I am almost 65. 

Fear of non-existence.  When I sat Zen in the train this morning, I said outloud, "One:. Existence."

It is all that matters and it is pretty cool.  Without it, there is ... well, I guess there is no "without it".  It is.  Me, my little vergängliche mind, my ego, my id,

I believe if I keep meditating, I can free myself of needing that.   That attachment. That possession.

I'm getting a tooth pulled on Friday. I was affraid, but now I am more ...  a bit possessed with it.  Its a passing.  It has a spiritual significance, but no real sway over me.  Not really.  not substantially...

But that such things can and do, that is something I really want to learn to be free of. I believe it is the theme,

         The Bear and the Mountain.

For this, I want to do a psychotherapy.  A psycho analysis.


9.6.19 from field office south

on the one hand...

I missed the boat.  my twisty pressure cooker childhood and clue-less partnets set me up for a pretty ineffective life.  most projects I have done -- a book, even this diary, were came out half-baked and made up more of fantasy than reality.  so much still is childish.

on the other hand...   yes, yes.  and so what?  I have lived with values and searched for truth. I have found, ocassionally, art, even made some!


10.5.19 from field office

I remember once getting a strange letter in the mail. Later, I found out my brother and sister had gotten the same letter. It had a back line around the outside of the envelope, or maybe it was only half way around. I remember intuitively knowing that it was a death notice, or, in this case, a half-line, so a a “half death” notice, which, as it turned out, it sort of was. It was from my mother, who was sick with Parkinson’s at the time. She wrote that she had had an epiphany, and that that this would be the most important thing she had ever told us. She said she had spent most of her life angry, for example at her brother (who had gone into business, which, she always told us, was wrong or immoral. Her choice of academia was so much better.). Anyway, now she could see how much this hatred had affected her and those around her and she regretted this, and so had this advice for us, etc.

OK, so now, 10 years later, two things strike about this: First, that she later apologized for it, explaining that she had been on medication. !? I loved it! It was personal and meaningful. Finally some passion from my family. Maybe it could have the effect she wanted, and help us kids in our lives. Was that fear of emotions a feature of her generation? of this generation of jews? of Americans? or just people being stupid.

Personally, when I feel passionately about something, I always have two reactions. One like hers: oops. this is pathetic. And another: fuck yeh! Ride this! use it to do good for my life and for the world. use the power it gives you.

About a dance I am working on. To bring and music and dance to kids with disabilities. Do shit! Get thy ass in gear -- I used to write things like that in my diary at Purchase.

I’m in my hammock, in my “field office”. Its starting to hail. (In May!).


Day One of the adventures of Robert and Steve. The Great French bicycle tour.

Bordeaux. A walk, talking about the surprising emotional impact of the Notre Dame fire. a somewhat dissappointing dinner. But a bounding young waiter. Smiling. Full of faith.

Completely amenable.

I tried to give him a gift: the strap to hold phone on the handlebars. He said no. Didn’t trust it. Hm. I expected a thank you.

I guess remember: patience. With him and with yourself. Yoga along the way!

Day 2: 8:30. building the bike. Heading off.


if you do the right things
put your clothes away, practice yoga and zen
write all the emails...
it does help
keep the evil spirits away
it does, not completely
or all the time
but it does
and we hope that in that daily stepping back
away and clear, that one might even build up a little of
that toughness that I have been missing in the last years

31.12.18 new years eve

living. holding on to a sense of the Way, the True Path

A few poignant words to hold things together. and in perspective.

is a mixture of yoga practice, meditation, friends and 'social causes',
keeping sentimentality at bay
keeping the main thing, the main thing

25.10.18      sand

to see a world in a grain of sand
and a heaven in a wild flower
hold infinity in the palm of your hand
and eternity in an hour

the neeeed to write it down
the deep truth i feel sometimes
as the seasons change

write it down! Quick!

but i dont do it much anymore... hm
i am too busy.  probably a good sign.

sitting here, i can feel the cycles of my Life's energy


and suddenly im lookng forward to doing shit again!

23.10.18 Geese, outside my window, under the moon

remember? how i used to feel things so strongly that i had to tell someone! i had to find someone to tell. I HAD TO WRITE it down

like the cat that came up to me ronight
or the geese i hear outside

the things of life

but the point is that they _burn_! they glow. i cant explain it, but i think you know what i mean.

its the same as when i fly in my dreams. its my super power!!!

its not art exactly, but it can be! it can be almost anything.

i just have to remember its there.

that sounds nice, but
of course,
its not quite as simple as that.

21.10.18 the main thing

sit still

The rest, see?, The rest, including this,
Is a kind of dance a kind of distraction with a kind of tricky tendency to wander off, stumbling,
into strange and delusional places, ways of thinking
Full of sentimentality, heliotrope and sloth.
The way the mind, this mind, is want to do.

Long ago, in ballet class, calculus class, and elsewhere, I learned that to go forward in life you sometimes have to act as if you knew what you were doing. As if your mind were clear. As if it made sense. As if it feels right, even when, to be perfectly honest, there is confusion and doubt. You act as if… and while it seems a cheap trick, and a compromise to your artists' codec says that compromise is false. and even when all the emotions are pushing you this way and that,
Even for all that, the adult and the man who succeeds,
steps forward.

14.10.18 :: bike trip near weimar. beautiful fall day.

Its possible to sit Zen hungry. why not?
It is the essence of good life. Zen life. holding it together.

no more excuses!!!

at least not that one...

neeeooow. looking for a hillside in the sun
that I remember from my early childhood.

the shape of the land, the green, the smell of the breeze
for it must have formed my idea of euphoria,
and love, and sex maybe, who knows?

it may not be the main thing, but close. I am not s
I can in any way connect it to anything I make,
at least not in an ydirect way. at times I have wondered if art is that, or can be. the things that move me so much! I guess like the expressionists, like Munch believed -- give form to _those things!_

I'm not sure I have ever taken the slightest step in that direction.

But no matter. It is me just the same. and my own way to make art. and do stuff.

despite, and/or because of, those mysterious under-currents running.


I’m taxiing in Oslo. To go Trondheim.
Finally, I’m off wi my new bike.

Each of the last 3 summmers I yearned to go north, again, like the 4 trips I took with Delph. Why not!? Different shit came up.
Or she didn’t want. Well, now I am confirming that I can do it anyway. alone. More options. More freedom.

Rain is predicted. Its been so hot and sunny in Germany. Week after I’m thinking, why aren’t I in Norway or Iceland? Whatever.

Its not actually important. ;). Zen is. Existence is. While it is. And when it isn’t , is it anyway? Even without me?

And does it matter? How strange that exactly the question that really matters, maybe the ONLY one that matters, is the precisely the one we can’t answer. Seems a bit unfair, I must say.

Love is supposed to matter. Some say god is love, but is love god? I would like to believe in that, but it seems less sure. Other people are OK, the few who are not assholes that is.

Take a moment to notice that I am taking a moment to notice.

All my life I have started to write, convinced, each time, that writing offers a way to find order. Well, perhaps. It does a little. It slows down the thought process. Maybe it keeps it from going in circles, since once it is written down, you can move on.

And then there is that sense that I can use it to FIX my life — “fix” not in the sense of “repair” but “”make permanent”. Haha! What? Like in the sense of James Joyce? A Guide to Life? For whom? My kids? Delphine? Anyone?

Me. My humble search. It is allowed that I should wonder. And wander. And not grow up in the usual sense of attainment, as the previous generation.

Or that I should sit on top of this windy hill, at 8:30 on Sunday morning, procrastinating my meditation and yoga.

Swinging on our hammock yesterday, suddenly I was happy.
(I think it was during our game). I did not mention it. It would have sounded strange.

And I remember I wondered why... huh? I had not eaten recently... could it be because it was at the point when all the preparations for my trip were done. The wheels were attached to my new bag.... and the only thing left to do was enjoy.

But no, it went deeper... it was like, hey, this is normal life, here, playing a game and laughing.
You know how they talk about mindfulness? I don’t know what that is, but I think I was having it. It was connected to my morning Zen in some way that I cannot really explain.

Now we are over the riv

ers and forests of Trondheim country. About to land. And that I should sit on top of this windy hill, at 8:30 on Sunday morning, procrastinating my meditation and yoga.

Camping by a river in the mountains.
Icy water bubbling and shushing.
It rearranges my mind, whose clarity and power amazes me.
I get some good ideas. I think they're good.

Yes. That may be,
but I can still, like a child,
get that mother-less feeling



Leaving my roommates triggers
Family. The only one I sort of have
leaving it and all

Like a monk, to be free
not of the feelings, but of their consequences.

Love to all!!!

A true path
Eyes open.
You, your life, it has value

Get up early.


I am self-realized man.

It occurs to me that I have figured out how to live. I have everything I need! I could move to Greece or any other place and live and be OK.


Hope is coming back to my mornings

How can intangible things help us
It's a mystery maybe, but humans run on intangibles
Of course love
Or this psychotherapy?
But I was just thinking of my yoga and meditation just now
Nonsensical silly random irrelevant things,
That have value
calm me. Bring me back to myself, put me in a feeling of control
And maybe later,
even happiness

I sit calmly
and become one with That
As content follows form

Dalo(?) stesso lato
___ the same side

And we will certainly need lawyers to keep Fraunhofer from "eating us".


25.7.18    wise words and smallness

The dentist fixed my tooth today.


20.4.18    wise words and smallness

Is there such a thing as wise words?  Can I find them?  Can they make a difference? 

Is this where they belong?  In a diary that no one will ever read?

Haha! You better have some humor about this Zen!

So, into my list of Things About Me, goes "feeing small". I almost said, "being small".  Get it? Even in admitting to it, I am doing it.

But that was a long time ago, and far, far away. Today it is only a rumbling, that has echoed through my life.

And added color.

Color of the artist's kind.  The kind that has given me the abilitiy to be an artist,

and, and the same time,

the kind that -- way too much sentimentality.  My father had that under control.  Like a Zen master.

But maybe without the emotional honesty. Safely in a box -- but what a loss!  to him. to me.  to the world.

Stop writing. Choreograph!


10.1.18    again, to sleep

even though nothing is wrong,

it was a crappy day.  I thought about my tooth, most of the day. 

nothing gave me pleasure... 

I made it through the day... is about all i can say.  my tooth doesnt even hurt, but I feel it.

IT SO WEIRD     LIFE.   THESE  transferences or whatever they are

shit that doesn't matter, but then it does matter.

and if this is hard, then how will i survive when it really IS hard.


teeth, do not last.


Look:  this year - I wrote almost nothing!

Is that good or bad?



Why is this hard? It shouldn't be... holiday wi a nice family in France. Where is my Tapferkeit, my toughness? The smallest things set me off. Make me insecure inside.
ENGAGE! It was always my answer. It always was the way - the choreography. The creation, the project,...

I dreamt ... something beautiful
Was Spring coming? Was it Truth?  Beauty?
I'm not sure if it was a dream exactly...
for there was no content
Just that feeling of hope
and power
My power
To act, to create, to be part of the river.

It means to practice,
and to make art again.


28.1.17  on the importance of dreams

Yesterday, after sitting zen, in the sun, in the snow...

thinking about finding the dance that would open a door
I started to cry. Learning to embrace the irrational

has taken a lifetime to learn (and may take yet another)

So we have to use our heads, it is only a wisdom tooth, it is not of any real consequence,

but Daddy, we need the irrational too! Why?

because we need poetry.  we need the art that blows our minds -- the dances, the music, we need our minds blown!  We need it to face death -- to die,

and then to return to tell about it.  come back to warn the others, no, to laugh and cry with them about it, once more.  as we did when we started out.

Then journey back to that

with the help of my shrink,
has many stops along the way, many stills -- this morning it was the waves, the ocean, speaking, whispering about hte passing.



Today after I practiced zen I thought about this:
let go of the rational
and I cried for this
The Irrational -- the dance of the OA --
or whatever
can be truth enough.
Enough for me, for this moment,
for this life
all at once, this was a joyous conclusion.

A breakthrough.


Didn't sit today. A lost day? No! It was great. Didn't do jack, but lived well. Great energy. No pain.
Put legs on an old cabinet.
Hey well stRted out with pump and full yoga back to back.

Still, you gotta sit. It's not like the world goes down when you don't, but yes it starts to. You need it. Do it.


Eve. Good energy flows back into me
it's 20:38... it was a bit hard today. I struggle with myself. I feel some discomfort, and it bothers me like crazy.
Even though it's not really that bad.

I started late. Did yoga. I have no work these days... for weeks... for months. Just yoga... I mean, come on! This is great. or should be. I'm close. Close to truth. Close to happy.


In the 70s 80s, in new york,
I understood something about art and art -making:
that content , or having an idea to share, is a fairly wrong, old fashioned and definitely over-rated idea.
There is another:
you do some random (even literally random) thing,
over and over, and it , the doing of it, in, or _through_ the doing of it,
you can find an unexpected interest in it
and ,(miracle), and the non-human is suddenly deeply human.
You really just have to do it with Lieb und Seele, to put yourself into it, over and over.


I dreamt
Of love
and things were beautiful and interesting
devices for training in the sun
and I was looking forward to teaching, and training
on a high-bicycle thing of wood and paper and sunshine
And flirting with another teacher , who liked me. I had a chance with her and überhaupt

That my parents took away my confidence, left me childless. Think of Mathias. Fuck them. I wanted to say at his funeral. Or now to Steve or my new shrink.

But tonight, for 5 mins, all things were possible. And I want to go back into my dream.

Inspired by friends and small children


Most of the time I feel pretty lost.

Bits it's lunchtime. That's why.
Or evening. ..

But so I'll have some physical sensation - my asthma, my testical ache, dizziness - whatever! - and I can brush it off, my focus on it passes, or it, passes. ok. Or on the way I try to therapy myself, generally pretty impotently, by pointing out how the mind can giveth and taketh away.
Like on some level it all surely only perception. how we see things. how we handle things.

So I sit zen. that's good.

And remember that friends are praying for me. (and that I have a date with a therapist :)). she can help crack this crusty stuff off of me.

I was with Helena. As I will be soon.
And there again was that deep sense of loss. Delph will never let me feel that since she never says I love you. Great!

Because that deep bonding is like ... Fire to me. It burns me up. Amazing beauty and joy. But not a good idea.

Anyway we were on a ship a really big one and it crashed a bit into the dock and damaged it and we offered to pay for the repairs. Just the corner
I can't remember how we caused the accident. ..
And then we were in an apartment like on johannistr. 42, she had stayed there! 16 years she said.
We were sitting together stretching on the floor and i Said youve gotten looser! She had. And then I said lets go for a walk.

She checked the sleeping kids, checked her mail, and then I awoke. I did not know what I wanted to tell her. As in real life I don't.

Before we got ready to leave, there was this computer game, you toss out these little bright red stones, and they became people on a board game. They aged and then died. They lived out little tiny lives.
And I remember thinking , well, you can always toss out more.


6.7.16    holding it together, indeed

I was thinking about the bitterness and fear of change that seems to be so common.

i want to start practicing already now, to be kind and gentle,
insightful and in some sense truly wise old man.

self-realized, as they say. remember what I have been saying:
important is not what we endure, but how we handle it,
how we carry it and ourselves as we go on through the world.

traveling means meeting people. I could meet people at home, but its different.
Travelers love each other, for they have no home, no family. The world, the strangers become their family, their home, by default.



I was taking a Train in Tibet.
Past many dilapidated lapidaries houses, ruins really.
Up mountains. Through rock.
Up up then arrived in the living room of some Europeans who did not seem at all surprised to see me.

The next day, we were somewhere and I saw climbers. Top roping. Cool, thought I. I wish I'd brought my rope!

Then I saw Steve a bit away, in our old backyard, hugging mom. And I was hugging dad. He squeezed tighter, and so did I. (parents were not really there- they were, but they weren't. )

Earlier with Mathias, lots of students, and I felt like flying (again). I had on a big coat. Should help! Just let go!

A few days ago I was dreaming too. And I remember thinking I wonder if this is a dream. Well, I can fly, but does that mean this has to be a dream?



I may not be able to control everything about my body, but I sure as hell can influence my perception of it.



My professional roots, my inventions, my power

I'm in the countryside training. The hailstorm is abating and a thought just occurred to me:

I have a list of exercises.

This simple structure is deceptively important. It's like class; one can certainly move one's body in a strong way, but to make this into training, what I know of as training, what I learned from Merce Cunningham and others in New York in the 1980s, is a matter of structure. There is a form to it, a development (through the body, and in intensity). There are repetitions, and the repetitions have repetitions. It uses energy trajectories, release, gravity, and all the rest of those modern dance principles. (though I call it yoga).

It concerns discipline and it's a method of perfecting oneself through the body. I say "perfecting", and not "improving" because this is how it feels when you reach good moments: perfect - a kind of peace and truth and beauty. It lies within its process, in the doing of it, working it out, and within that flow, for that time, I am free.

If this sounds like an exaggeration, well of course it is, but it's also true! This is what dance is: a flight of the imagination! (we pilots. we lost ones...)

So my list. And now here is the point:

That I have this, what a gift!!! How few have figured this out.

So, now I have a standard form, and then extras and new things. I.e. 2 sessions in a day. One is rote, and one is impulsive and subject to whim. they work together.

By staying busy, we don't have time to perceive. Good! Anyway I'm only thinking about all the shit that's bothering me - physically.

It's like I've lost all my toughness without my dad. to realize that even he, who I guess, lost as he was, represented toughness to me, is also fragile. In the end, without power. . Well, a truck load of files that all went in the dump with masks on. I poisoned my lungs with some strange chemical.

See? All these crazy thoughts?! chase them away now with non-stop activity. Do do do do do!!!!

Contact all your friends. Shout out to the world, like thunder: I AM, I AM!

And then, yes, stop. Completely. Time for zen.

This is how i will get through this.


We were all at a big crazy resort. Next to the sea. Brilliant blue, like the Mediterranean but it was mostly wild, with nature and inland waterways.
One of the favorite pastimes was running, but it was really more like skating on a big slippery, like a frozen lake, but it wasn't cold and everyone went in circles around it.
Only I did it on my belly, still running, yes, but somehow on my belly. And I was very fast, faster than anyone (except Marc or someone, who followed me). And it felt good :).

I spent a lot of time in my dream trying to get back to Helena. To find her at the big place. I had been off somewhere.

But otherwise people were incredibly sad, or at least emotional. Crying together in little groups. For example I saw a blonde woman crying by herself, so I touched supportively her foot that had a sock on, and she rolled over towards me. And I thought we might cry together.
Finally, a fish made of pottery was repeatedly reaching up - strange, I thought. Along the wall. It, he, wanted something it could not reach. I looked, what could it be? A pebble attached to the wall? Yes. I loosed it a bit, and he did undeed eat it. How is that possible a stone can open its stone mouth and eat?

Next everything was going down a drain. Mostly pills at first, but all kind of junk. So I poured out my anti-anxiety medicine, to be carried away, but I and we all knew that our turns were coming. We too would bevwashed away. And again this feeling of warm and loving and deep deep sadness washed over us all.


Dad's birthday: the first one he has missed.

Do lots of things. Busy. Keep doing lots of things… As if we were perfectly happy. As if there were no COPD. Or anything. Do not ponder, hust keep doing, as if…. As Maggie said.

Just do not forget to also sit twice a day. To also do nothing, and to do it perfectly. For between the doing, between the breaths, between the tears, there is a still point, free of x, y and z. free of endorphins. It is where you reside. Culture it.

Writing in my diary again. Does that mean I'm depressed? Bro pointed out, it comes and goes through this life. So, it's my phase again? I sort of thought I'd found the way out. ...

But mostly it's only when I stop and think about it. Just don't stop. Just don't think.

Actually, quite a fine day. Put a gate in my max patch, with Marc's help.

And other fine things.... It's just...

I'm Losing it a bit. Remember how at school I would spend evenings picking my face, kind of hypnotized? (I've made it so much worse!). It's strange that I can still do that. hours? perhaps. of course I _am_ tired; wiped out from body pump, sex, a bit under slept, my skin is a bit weird... and,

these days have not been easy ones. The lung thing: my new-found copd, if that's what this is. It wears you down a bit. Not the physical feeling but...

But here: I can do better than this. I know I can.

I can see now the difference between the thing, and my comments to the thing - my valuation - giving it significances which, first of all may not be correct, and second and more importantly, is the source of much confusion and doubt and, frankly darkness in your life.

I.e. it's not helping me.

You can see it: the feeling may be mildy annoying, but the comment, "oh, it's my thing, it's coming to get me!"

Like a child. Like picking your face I guess.

I want to attack tomorrow as an adult.

At work at 8. Stop screwing around.

Listen to me, cough cough, sore knee,
These are the things. They are always there. or nearby. It's not just by me, and it's not just at this age.

There was always something. Going perhaps, but returning back.

It could be a million other things , from a teenager's pimple, small tits, losing an investment, squandering a wealth, a bet, a disease... ALL THESE THINGS THAT CAN QUÄLEN US, at any moment, in any life.


like zen teaches, we can detach - un-attach - ourselves.
from maya.

I just wish I could hear theses words from someone else. someone i trust. A teacher an authority, someone so respected and revered, that those words would sink in. Kick my ass. Shake me to my core. Make me cry, and then finally learn.

I Live backwards. Like Merlin. Getting younger with each day. more and more fit. Forgetting everything I once knew!

It's been a hard year. No parents anymore.

After sitting Zen, I can see that it is me to blame, my mind. I do this to myself. pondering. Putting screws to myself.

Zen says empty out oneself.
What good advice!

We Homo sapiens have been walking around this earth for 200,000 years and for the most of that time without language or analysis or existential philosophy, and we did just fine! In fact in many ways better than we are doing today.


First day of spring. feeling. Of childhood.... powerful and made of, what? Magic? Heaven? God?
And then it's gone. but to have touched those forces , the fact that they are! In this or any life,
offers a reason
Of sorts
un raison d'être. and a reason to sit still
to perceive It.


14.2.16    holding it together

I have not written in a couple of months.  I used to say that not writing much was a good sign!  I don't need it! No whining...

and so maybe I do whine, but look at it like this:

we do these things, carry up the laundry, recharge the batteries in our electronic devices, all these things

and "doing", any doing, can bring us joy - like young children,

or be empty, like middle-aged, and called drudgery.  and life itself can drag us down,

or pump us up.  and so to me its the body, training it, using it artistically, has always been my savoir.  Its a metaphor, but its also ME.   body+mind together makes me. If I train well, I am growing. Beginning, not ending.  Affirmed.

I have felt weak of late.  A weakling - not able to verkraften my own mortality, or fears of illness and change

and I fight it with an INCREDIBLE program of training I am doing.

-- I will upload it here (right) soon --

ALL MY LIFE I wanted to life with discipline.  Now I have a point system.  and I actually do it.

Does it help?  yes, I think so.  but I also feel I need some professional help...  went to doctor, and got a prescription for therapy...



i am richer than i ever been.  part 2 of inheritance arrived.   i will make a will -- for that and for this.  haha. 2 things i can "leave behind.



I can handle this.

This transition. These tests. This body. This mind. This soul. This. This. This

This girl. This revolver.

Passing of patents.

It was a dream

Filled with beauty and sadness, love and regret.

I was visiting Helena and she had a beautiful house overlooking colors in the valley she was on the stretcher giving therapy to someone else, maybe shiatsu but they were both lying down on separate things.

Everything in the house was beautiful in Swiss or deutsch bio style with lots of colors and pottery and cloth.

The house had three floors yes and when I came downstairs I took a wrong turn and ended up without stairs to go down Anets jumped down from law Kyle ledge. And there was a curtain rod which I was concerned that I had loosened up and I was trying to make it reads the other wall.

I jumped down and landed safely and I was always afraid someone would see me doing these crazy things I was doing it but part of me wanted to be seen them
Like I was afraid of getting in trouble.
But everyone was only kind to me, and understanding, like true friends

(Note the Climbed too high theme)

And this guy gave a speech in Swiss German and I couldn't understand it but then everyone started applauding and I realized they were applauding me and I started applauding too because I was too shy to receive the applause
So I pretended not to get that it was me.

One of my sleeves was too long, and made clapping difficult (appreciating others). I was almost too late to clap!

and then I started talking about Helena and how much I liked her, I couldn't say love because she wasn't mine, but everyone knew what I meant and I just said I liked her so much and that I couldn't say anything more. Which was true I was too overwhelmed by emotion.

I also remember earlier in the dream making the comment that the house was so beautiful and that I regretted that I had rented the place I lived all my life, which is a stupid waste of money I know. Although I haven't had much choice I've never had the money to buy house. Until now.

I dreamt recently of Diana as well. And of course it was also love and regret.

have you ever wondered why I have to get up early the day after Christmas and go to the gym. Or why I have to train sometimes twice in one day. Or why I leave Christmas parties early and go home to do nothing.

Or why it's not easy for me to be a social person or better point why I don't want to go to bars and play games with people.

It's because I need to sit Zen, and the training is kind of the Zen for my body,

And doing these things take takes a lot of concentration. When I'm with other people I am distracted. . I can master it when I have the focus of my solituder. It takes My full power it takes that much concentration.

and I need these things to feel OK, to be OK with myself. To be able to function in this world, which is never been easy for me,

In fact a strange weird struggle. My point being that I have to somehow feel good about myself in order not to be crazy not to be depressed or fearful. Not to have panic attacks not to be afraid of life. To have a little bit of confidence in order to do the things I want to do. To have to be a little bit reliable so that I can do maybe a little job like teaching yoga class once a week.

All these things that so many people can do, Well, I can't. Not without sitting in training it's what allows me to be human and be a good person on this planet.

So thanks for your patience with it. I know it's not easy to live with me.
It has been cleared to me for 10 years or more that the desire to do something almost always signifies more than the thing itself.
Does this make sense? For example I think of something that I want to do, some stupid thing, maybe recharging my batteries or something with electronics and then in the very next moment I am thinking how beautiful it is to have a desire for a thing and went to signifies.

Even though I am not sure what it signifies! But it is like God because it lives between the seconds between the breaths between the days.

Call it Joy, or motivation, or love or anything you want, but it's a thing and I notice it.


19.12.15    holding it together

I call this "captain's log" for a reason.  Partly its Star Trek, and partly its

"Invictus" by William Ernest Henley.  Its the only poem he wrote of any note.  He wrote it after they amputated his leg, and said they would have to amputate the other one.  So...  my problems are easy ones.

More symbolic, and existential.  Like in the movie "LeMariDeLaCoiffeuse", in which (spoiler) our heroin is so happy that she has to kill herself to keep it , to keep it from changing.

I had own little panic attack, driving to Chemnitz. Weird.  Steve says that hospice says its a symptom of mourning.  ok...

One thing I do know, its never good to think of one thing a lot. It used to be a girl.  haha. don't remind me anyway, now its my father.

Now I think about the young women who come up to me after yoga.  They are looking for inspiration!  In me!  :)   And I in them.

So this entry is about confidence. I do not have words for it perhaps, but after I practice zen sometimes, I can see that all things are as they should be.  I am a duck in water.

And I can be happy, with all the mystery and uncertainly, and even with some self-created dark winged thing hovering over my shoulder...  shoo! That, like the girls, and the love, are but illusions.  Dances of light and shadow.

My Dad did die, a couple of days after I wrote that (below).  Yep.  I think that was the night I felt so happy and free.  Not just to be free of the responsibility of caring for him, but to be finally free of needing to care about HIS or ANYONES opinion of me.

HE, like the father in Kafka's short story.

I set a codec of life, back in New York, at Purchase, during my formative years, to jump into the wild sea. and to be soft too, like the gay guys...  And I'm doing that.

Fuck, if I had a dollar for ever person that has praised me after I have done my training in quasi-public places.

I may not have found or joined the commune of smart communists, who believe and live an alternative parallel society, (to inspire me!), that I have often fantasized about...

but I do live in a commune ;). and, much more important,

I do things I believe in. Beginning with sitting zen.  Twice a day.

in this moment, I think I can hold it together.

15.11.15      another kind of Retreat

my father, Merce, would liked this thought:

I have a choice.  I can make a list of the things I didn't do today in the studio this today,

OR in the same time, I can maybe get one more done.

I'm in USA for 18 days to take care of my dad, who is 92. we were never close.  he always scared me.  and put me down.

he still does.

even though I know he has little power to hurt me now, its in blood, this relationship.

Its like , read Kafka's "The Judgment" ("Das Urteil") link, and you will understand how I feel.


23.10.15      Yoga Retreat

1st full day.  totally smashed... already!

Of course, I've done this before!  dance rehearsals, workshops, all that shit.  all those years.

to be, and have been an athlete... I almost don't quite believe it somehow, except I do work a little differently than the others.  I am reaching to my limits. More?  It seems like it -- it seems like it to me!

Of course, yoga is not about being the best.  Its not even about getting better and better (as someone here said...)

this is a strange thing to wrap ones head around in this society.

Anyway, what I wanted to write is

1. that I am here at all!

2.  I forgot...


15.10.15      Kick Start

morning in Oslo.   I have ANOTHER day off,  expensive day off.  not so well planned perhaps, but some of that chaotic loss is normal

in the flow of life.

my dad is dying.  losing his faculties one at a time. and we vicariously cope.

and I look at the fucking clock of Munch.

I made some art, had some ideas of art, enough to admire the fanatics who do it COMPLETELY.

and to understand...  that to do one thing, over and over, for hours, and days and weeks,

a set of steps, a set of notes on a piano, or, in my case perhaps, something nuts that no one else would think of doing,

just some dumn thing, eccentric, impractical and abscure,

over and over, doggedly hammering away at the details, getting the bits to "work", and be repeatable,

THIS, is completely enough to make art

and more is too much. See the art, that mystery I have spent most of life trying to understand,

is not a thing we can craft WITH INTENTION.  Rather is emerges silently, invisibly, magically. See, the "art" part of art, can never be worked out as an idea is worked out.  Art grows in our hearts, sight unseen.

This much I have figured out.

4.10.15       Late at night.  Paris.

Last night some of my friends ("colleagues", Delphine would correct me) did a show in Frankfurt -- outdoors on a bridge, with projections, and were paid 900.000 euros. So, it was one of his maybe 8 pieces this year like the one we did the day before, for our 5.000 euros (almost all of which we gave to the artists - I might have made 500 at the end. If that.)

So, I look for the money to finish developing my device for persons with disabilities. And meanwhile he goes to a party, maybe on a boat somewhere, to celebrate their show. That it had this or that "artistic" moment, but mostly just that it "worked".

And I sit, somewhat stunned, shaking my head.

Of course, life has always been that way, and I imagine it is that way for most people. That we can wallow, if we want to, "What if?", and "Why not me?".

It is, in fact, easy to do that. Isn't it? And I am going to guess it is especially easy for people with younger siblings (and bad parents). Or siblings, or bad parents... And of course it does not bring very much.

Except some anger, which is not always a bad thing! Anger is energy, and energy can be channeled. I used it, and still use it for my body-work. I can do a spinning class and half way through begin to cry, pushing myself to my limit. Again, and still.

But what else to do with it? Embrace it. Like in Zen: embrace all of what life is... Embrace even death.

But those fuckers, those american fuckers with their icon of "Success"! I met 2 Amis in Madrid one night, and told them of our work. "Well," they said, remember every successful project starts out small". "No", I said, "You don't get it. It will never get bigger. It never does -- it is not SUPPOSED to! Its called non-profit, or art or whatever, and you dont do it for the money." And she looked at me the way a dog does when you ask it the time of day.

So they pull you along with their incessant messages, a thousand a day, "life is about consuming", etc. etc. You are supposed to get rich to be truly happy. Truly truly... what is always just out of reach.

I asked my father if getting more and more, your whole life, so you go up and up, is a good way to live, and he said, somewhat to my surprise, "yes, I think so".

So being an artist, and doing my bodywork, is my way to say "no" to all of that. And it is not always easy. But it is at least something a person can believe in.

love r

4.10.15       Hard choices


I do know that I can see through my brother's facade of maturity and toughness.  Tough guy, my brother.  Tough in a fight.  Uses his fists.  He's a punk.  A kid that pretends to be tough, but is not.  His air of confidence does not work with me.  Haha.  I hope he never reads this!  He will take me seriously, and it will hurt his feelings. Because there is some truth in it.

Me, Im not a punk.  Im a wimp.  I would never even try to hit anyone i nhte first place, or have the slightest illlusions that I am anything but a failure in this life.  Its easier my way.  Certainly more honest.  Sweeter and more humble.  The dancers' way.

30.9.15     Remember Shows?

Remember shows? I'm in Berlin at my favorite coffee shop. It's called Espera. Which I'm guessing means "hope" in some language.… anyway I would like to think it does.
So a show, for a change, in st. Wendel Germany. Day after tomorrow. I think I'm dancing 2 minutes. Well, walking. Posing. And Vanessa, who is like 22, does 5 or 6 minutes. Remember how they wind you up?

And how you can walk out on the sunny street after a loooong day of technical rehearsals, and everything seems a little unreal. Or maybe "super real"?

And everything touches you, more than it should perhaps. Remember?

And you wonder, is this fun? And you don't know the answer, but it is somehow life! Guess who I'm working with? Yes, frieder. Which is ok, except somehow it's not ok. The art is fun, but it's pushy. As it always was. But what really messes with me is the OLD OLD THEME of him vs. me. My brother. who will always be bigger and better. BIGGER. he is not even sure if he can come to the show because he has to make a 50 meter screen on a bridge 2 days later in Frankfurt for half a million euros. before he goes to Berlin for ...

And I know it is silly and does not actually make any difference, or no more so than anything else.

Mostly though I am quite happy these days.

I am trying to build the thing still. With new partners, even some new technology and music. I have to believe in it. Partly because we all have to believe I think, but partly when you see the childrens' faces, especially the ones with disabilities. ... you have to!


23.8.15      Advice for Ben

Another blue-sky-perfect morning. I'm sitting in the garden with my espresso, long before the others are up. Sunday.
We spoke a while back about what to do, and with whom, in this world and in this life. "Where are the freaks?", we asked each other and I said I wanted to write something about it. I'm sixty this year. Those existential what-is-worth-doing questions have accompanied me all my adult life so I don't think there is much I can offer, but well, here goes:

Essay on the Search for Something Worth Doing

I think you are like me: either you do something with "Leib und Seele", or you are bored as hell. Not a bad way to live, on the whole -- except that you have to spend a lot of your life bored as hell. But how else to navigate this complicated world?
Yesterday in the forest I worked on some choreography. It is at once the most useless thing, and at the same time the most valuable thing in the world. A bunch of movement, stuck together with a sense of intention. Its a great self-contradiction, because I design it "as if" it matters a lot.

// It is for a commercial gig we are doing for HK Audio. I think mentioned it, and asked you to help with it. I'm not sure, because I might have been referring to a similar project creating a "techno" environment for the motioncomposer. Anyway, I am doing the HK gig with Burnt Friedman -- which is very cool. The other thing, the MC work, is still open, so I will come back to you on it...//

So, yes, movement, as a metaphor for... what exactly? One thing I'll say about it, it could be anything. I could tell the dancer to improvise and, with a good costume and score, the customer would be just as happy! But instead I find that I care, and quite a lot. I've spent hours to make 246 counts so far. That's about 3 minutes of material. Its tedious work, but it does give me a certain buzz. I used to know a New York choreographer named Douglas Dunn. He told me once that the movements we create matter; not to us, but to the world!. Haha! I wonder how much irony he intended. Probably none! Its all about the belief in something. I get that. Some of my friends understand this too. Others look at me the way a dog looks at you when you ask it a question. Then they ask me how much it pays.

Such tasks have never had much to do with financial survival of course. So you have to figure that part out. We decided to quit the electronics company we were working with, so starting in October I have almost no income. I still get a little from the EU project, till 2018, but I am not sure if I can survive from that.

There are WG's in Berlin with "clothing optional, nudity preferred". I visited a nudist camp once. At first it was strange, but after 20 minutes its the most natural thing in the world, and more to the point, it gave me a sense of utopian vision. Seriously, it was like, "we are all human beings. all one!". So I think I understand those WGs. Something weird can actually be kind of important if only because it confirms that there are other ways to live.

Like you, probably, I have always been fascinated by communes with alternative philosophies. Anti-capitalist -- probably the most important and difficult of all, but also, yoga, sex, art, ... it can be many things. There is a puppetry commune in California I heard of. Artists with so-called radical ideas, living in the forest. There are communities in Germany with no cars, or with their own micro-currencies. Different things. And I always imagine moving in and feeling a part of something where I can feel good about working there and contributing. Or working in the field for Amnesty International, Docteurs sans Frontièrs, or even Greenpeace... But my point is that even on a much smaller, almost symbolic scale, I can imagine that being a part of something "alternative" can make a big difference in how you feel.

But I sit in my garden with my laptop and get up after a while and go over my steps, do yoga, and then work on the motioncomposer. I'm in a good phase. Later I will struggle intensely with the meaning-of-life questions again.

One thing: it can depend a lot on other people. You can tell yourself something a hundred times, but then when someone else says the same thing, it can change your life. After my yoga class recently the teacher said to me that he needed to do his own yoga, but that he did not feel like doing it. So I said, well, do it anyway. "Discipline, you mean?", he asked. "Sure", I said, "Isn't that the best way to live." And then as I was leaving he said, "you inspire me". It took me a while to get what he meant. In Zen they say monks practicing together is like a bag of stones. They polish each other.




I do not remember Summer as being this long

or warm or released.  It is time to sit again, now, at Summers end, before the Fall , and the Winter and the times of struggle and doubt return.

After yoga yesterday the teacher said to me that he needed to do his own yoga, but that he did not feel like doing it.  So I said, well, do it anyway.  "Discipline, you mean?", he asked.  "Sure", I said, "isn't that the best way to live.  It sounded like you knew this already, in what you said,

"but I dont feel like it", because this really means, "But with discipline I can do it anyway".

Before I left he told me that I had inspired him. :)




great yoga, after great coffee.  and then a wonderful american breakfast.

and the rest of the day is then icing.

the flew by, compared to day 1.   moved hotels for a second time.  another great burrito.

went to studio to start technical stuff.

eyecon problem... i hope frieder helps me....s



24.4.15     Baku

flying out of Baku-- back home to little Weimar.

Baku is so pumped up. Its ... well its impressive, but its also obscene. So many big and bigger glass buildings in such a poor country. oil money.

They housed us in a brand new 5 star hotel. My room had a living room, and two bath rooms. 2. for one person. I hardly knew where to pee.

One of the bathrooms was bigger than any hotel room I am used to. Every day a dozen people served me. Servants everywhere. Friendly you know _perfectly_ schooled in "hotelmanship" or whatever its called. Jesus. "Would you like another cappuccino before you go to the spa?" There is something nice about it. Things worked like they should. The food was well-prepared. the sheets are soft. its clean...

but mostly, guys , its just awful!!! I don't want people opening doors for me. They seem genuinely kind, and I believe they are, and they may really be happy to serve me in exchange for money,

but I still hate it. I do not know why. Partly I suppose, because I was not in Aszerbeischan - they stole that from me. I was in Holiday Inn.

But there is another, more psychological thing.
working with Frieder again,,, the old stuff coming back. He is going on to other big shows -- not a lot perhaps, but some quite huge. and I suddenly felt so incredibly small.
I know, I am director of a production with 40 artists, and another dozen or so support people, and yet I feel like a pea. small and useless. WHY SHOULD I CARE SO MUCH what shows he has coming up? I have a small one here and there, some things with persons with disabilities. Not nothing --- and that always used to be enough for me.

And it IS enough for me.

So why do I feel so sad. Don't misunderstand me: this work was fun. The artists seemed to like working with me. they applauded me at the end. Some also came to me personally with tears in their eyes to say thank you. A tenor said I opened his mind to what he is capable of as an artist. Things like that. Wow. and the reviews have been excellent. so I should feel good and proud, I know. I just wish it was that simple.

The other thing that really hit me is that Frieder seems like maybe he is unwilling to help us with the motion tracking for the motioncomposer. its "engineering work" and he says he does not really like,,, well, sort of all his work is, but I understand what he means. the features are things WE came up with. not him. so he would not really be so creative in the project.

This does make it a relatively small job for him.... maybe a month, maybe 2, for which I offered him 25.000€.
Anyway, I feel dumped. and the project will surely struggle... I feel trapped. and like I said, all these old feelings came up again.

Now a funny story : I went across the street to the mall, because I needed a sweater. I found one I liked, very light and soft and it was a nice color and fit me.

how much is it?, I asked. And the man (I thought) said , "55 Manats" (50€). OK, its a lot, but it was a nice sweater. so I went back and looked at it again, and kept thinking about it. Yes, I finally decided, I will do it! So the next day, I went back, planning to buy even two of them in different colors. So the six people waiting on me rang it up. But when I looked carefully at the bill, it said 1710,-. They cost 855 each, not 55.

Oops. I walked out kind of sad that I had no sweater to keep me warm. Almost a thousand bucks for a sweater. Are they crazy?!?!?!

9.4.15    60th b-day and beyond 

"Haha".   we laugh at it.  shrug and say "fuck".

but there it is.    60.   a number.  my age.

turn, turn.  change change.  maybe... maybe not.  its still this strange thing called "life", till its not.

I remember when someone told me -- I was probably 5 years old -- and someone told me for the first time that no one knows what life is.  or where we go when we die.  I DIDN'T BELIEVE THEM!

Its a kind of trap, life.  It can feel that way... like we are in this thing, and there is really no way to change it.  "IT" changes, and it changes us, but we do not change it.  We cannot grab a new body, a new eyeball. 

There is an exit,  One of the most common forms of death is in fact suicide.  just not "start over" button.  no "switch sexes",  "switch parents" button.

I left the house, yesterday, April 8th, with 6 years and 8 hours,

and then there was a little flash of light and a floater in my right vision.

a "floater" is a little grey thing that floats around.  never had _this_ before.  never one as big as this.

not that its "big" exactly, just, _there_.  there it is.  something new.  it stays there.

i think they can lazer them away.  I read.  maybe its just there.  the eyeball is wearing out.  age.  age problems begin. 

"Problems?!?"  you whiner!  YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO COMPLAIN.  YOU'RE FIT.   YOUR YOUNG. 

you do not have a flabby stomach, or body.  you can do the splits, and things.  you can inspire people with your deep knowlege of body, of dance, and art and stuff.

you can.  you do.  you must.  its something.

and you have a project.

go to the gym tonight. and stop whining.

the bottom line of this, is this:

This "thing", it could be any "thing",

it could be the house burned down

or, I lost a finger, or a leg, or a kidney, or a friend...

a parent died.  a child.  a lover.

A thing changes, happens, and suddenly its psychology.

again, like when i had tinitus for 3 days.  or had my heart checked, its happened before,

it will again,

and then we have to get clear, we have to come clear somehow,

someone once said the quality of life is determined by how we deal with those times,

not the happy ones, but the hard ones, the weird ones.


So how do deal with them?  well, its a little hard to concentrate.  you feel it in your stomach sometimes,

you make sure to sit zen, twice a day,

you eat well, you do a little yoga, not necessarily pushing it, but doing it clearly and well.

you become stronger, not weaker,

its not fun, but you do it, and wait for another time.


The the philolsphical side, as well as this pep talk stuff, is that

it teaches to accept Vergänglichkeit -- the temporariness of things.

is that worth knowning?  is it worth going through such times?  being scared?   wishing things were different... 

accepting.  breathing.  talking to a friend.  crying.  moving on...







1.2.15    art, my art

there is the thing, and then there is the desire of the thing -- and the DESIRE is what counts most of all.  the fact of WANTING....   haha!!!

so you do some dumn thing -- the dummer the better! -- and it is all you need.  any stupid thing, like 1000 gestures, and the rest is just toil,

wonderful life-art toil.  and something comes out.  out of you. and this is the best art of all.


what is it?what is missing?  we do it without understanding it.  and this most essential question can either gnaw at us, or we have a big laugh!

have i done it well? am I now? there i have less doubt: hell yes!  few compromises.  I can look admiringly at clever gentle people perhaps... living on a commune somewhere, raising beautiful vegitables and children, but finally this is was my path:  teh new york city artist turned inventor.  and so on.

in my humble room and lack of security, surely this is trivia.  I wash my bowls: the real zen.

and no security?  haha!  that is part of the adventure!



27.12.14    dream of helena and the children


Helena was putting wooden trains, for children on the table, as decoration, and she felt it was nothing and I said, no, it was wonderful and why not do it and that the children would like it.

it was for a picnic outside.  there was a large sunny park nearby, and i was running around it, looking for the chance to ake flight by running with such large steps.

then i met a woman who was somehow in cahrge and she needed help translating a menu or something into good english, and I gave her my phone number, but i started out 019, instead of 0179, and she looked at me very suspiciously, the way the police had done last night (as they pulled me over for a breath test).

and the children were starting to come it.

what a  wonderful dream.

27.12.14      sinister shopping mall

la defense, is a bunch of glass office buildings near Paris.

But under it, and around it, are these shopping malls -- enormous halls of color and flashing ights, and smells and beeps and great LCD screens covered with whales and girls getting dressed and undressded.

and millions of people, mostly dressed in black, chinese-made clothes,


are moving about.  "shopping2.  eating.  shopping.  socializing.


but I see it as something sinister,

sad, dangerous, hurtful....

but they do it.  they have been taught to, and captured by millions of hours and precise techniques

its not just advertising, its an entire society, caught, like little fish in an incredible whirling machine,

and, as Plato said, they think they are free. There are, count them, a few artists struggling in their alternative nests, to see behind it and around it and through it, and trying to tell people about it.

and so its good for me to remind myself that I am not part of that.  I may be many things,

but to an extent, not that.

And so once each year I embrace it, with the loving if unwitting help of this family,

to remember again what IT is , and what I am not.


20.10.14      cold stone retreat

everyday,        e v e r y d a y 

time passes, and I see this, like a stone, like reality

as far as that goes,

and I yearn to sit zen.  but

in a typical day I often do not.

in this mileau  there is not that support from the outside, from the other monks,

who, like stones in a bag, polish one another over time.


cold stone


so the idea was to go on a retreat. find a place where people do these things, ie support, and yoga too...

didnt find it yet.   i will.  keep looking.  my only criteria is that i dont have to listen to lectures on love or religious stuff.


11.10.14      at my peak of my powers

this morning I am at the peak of my powers.  alone, and with some vision, some ability to see, the deeper meaning of things,

and the things I might do, do better, and do well.

to put aways some things, in their box, to be able to do that, that makes one stronger you know.  the humans who have to do that, who have done that, they breathe deeper.  they are the most awake.


well, like (and here is one for that famous List of things that make up who i am), a screaming child, jealous of his brother, and who now, with 60, dreams of his x-partner male friend, holding hands with his sometimes-girlfriend.  we were walking together though,

up a narrow street in Basel perhaps, and there was not quite room for me at her right.  you see?  I was a step behind, and failing.

and yet, I remember, I liked them.  they were the only friends I had.

so whether a dark and whipery shadow, behind me, over my shoulder, that is counted there.

but I see my liking them, I see that acceptance as a sign as well.  that I have learned to put it behind me. an unconfortable moment, nothing more.

delph is with patrick this weekend.  and the artist in me can say that there is something good in that.  for it bring up what is anyway there, for me to see.

and seeing things that are there, seeing things that we would sometimes rather not, pain and beauty both, well, what is the role of the artist if not that?


so I used to say, "bring it on!".  burn me, freeze me, smack me in my face -- it is my role, my codex, as an artist.  no compromise, no repose.

I can still say that.  (if perhaps not every day).


8.9.14      dicey times

continues to be a bit rocky for me this year -- since my birthday.

better, I think, than in the beautiful late Spring, when I was fearful and even had some hours of depression.  A few minutes, here and there.  Never a full day of it.

And my stomach is in its 7 year cycle year.  Thanks for my age, and knowlege, I know what to do. 

When I think sometimes that little gets better with age, this is one thing!

And now, these days, evenings are calm, and even happy most days.  most days.   Mornings can be rocky.  not sure why... coffee helps.  a LOT!  but those first hours can be very dicey.


So, InfoMus has frozen work, and IMM is threatening to pull the plug, if InfoMus does not release its "fixed" software.  Spannend!  like a bracing wet wind in your face, looking out sea...

I need a fucking holiday.

There was a meeting this week -- where every was yelling at me.  and marcello kept laughing afterwards:  "I told you so!".   but at least he was laughing.  he told me I was wrong to use the newest software.

But I actually stand by my decision.  it worked very well indeed.  even if the politics was spinning like crazy all around it.  you said, he said, they said...

Anyway, I said to both of them:

you will never straighten this out.  press reset.

see if they can do it.  I dont want to care too much...

if not...   I will take a few more walks or badminton games with frieder...

we took a walk yesterday!

I kind of believe in us for this actually.... strangely.  we know how to do it I think.  kind of a cool feeling.


2.9.14      Tell whom?

Everyday there is so much to tell! Well, ok, life :)

Yesterday while pedalling a bicycle hard and hard,
to techno music in the gym,
I began to cry. I let the tears flow.Among the sweat streaming from my face and head, who would notice?

I trained well, and when I was done with one exercise, I moved on the next,
into the night, without dinner. haha! like the old days!

now a slow morning, in a café, as is my style. Eager to do many things,
but take a few minutes to see the bigger picture.
getting up at dawn,
may be the way to run a business -- but it is not my way :)

And I will work hard enough, I think, in this life.

2.9.14       Other People

An very old woman approached me once in a park, where I was training.
I'm not sure why, but only small children and old people ever approach you when you train in public spaces...
Anyway, she said,
"That will make a big difference when you are old".

How kind, honest and helpful, to share such a thought with me! And to be so old -- one can only call it wisdom.

And in my gym, much more recently, I noticed an older man out of the corner of my eye,
watching me train. He was fascinated. As I left the room he seemed to want to talk so I said hello.
That is wonderful what you do, he said. and I thanked him and explained that I was a dancer.
Support! Isn't it great? that someone should notice the care and effort I put in to making this body do these things.

And finally, some days earlier, I saw another man. He was stretching. He was more flexible that I! I had to ask him what he did. It turns out he had been lame for many years, and now, after an operation, was regaining the use of his legs. So he trained a lot,
physio, and lacking muscle mass, was very flexible. Beautiful on different levels... and I told him so.

Inspiring us to move -- see how important the others are? We can train by ourselves, and do exactly what our muscles seem to need, and that is good, but there is so much to gain from others!" gain from others"... I hope I repay what I take!

Class, dance class, is only one example. the discipline -- fuck! no one can do that alone! When you're alone,
and you get very tired, you stop! who doesn't? the brain just says stop, and its so hard to think really straight when you are oxygen starved.

I make a list sometimes, of exercises, on a piece of paper. including, say, 15 minutes of choreography. and, if I have made the list right, it works. and I just keep following it to the end. "15 minutes", I know. dont laugh. but very people will understand this, how hard that is! even when it is never performed, how glorious! there is nothing like it in this life.

unless maybe I can really succeed to build this thing.

22.8.14    a typical morning

I may have lost my list. my little yellow list of Things.  I write incredibly tiny in my list... but EVERYTHING was there!   oh no!   so i feel confused and stuff. haha.
there was some ideal thoughts too, on the back of it.

it may have been the solution; the answer to all strife. the way to stay happy. the most important thing of all- the key.

but i lost it.

now i sit zen and think: the magic and beauty of this exact moment. wow.

30.7.14    a typical morning

How can anything be "typical"

in LIFE !?

So its time to change again, to go somewhere strange and discover something new, something I never even dreamed of.

And quick!  before this post-coffee optimism fades, when I still can sit and marvel and how many things are possible!

I know that only a small fraction of them come to be... or even turn out to be "good ideas", but, hey, ok, I don't always screen well, and there is a lot of junk in there.  I think a lot of people are like that.  You toss out a lot of ideas, with conviction, and somewhere there is a hit.

So back to "so much is possible" -- even now, sitting here, in this day, 30.7.14....



There were bombs going off, great flashes of light, and if you were near to one, as we were, it would burn you, like strong sunlight only faster, and we were getting all getting tans.

And then a thought came to me -- like an inspiration.  like a voice from above, and it said, "you do not need to end with a hydrogen bomb, you can turn what you are doing (motioncomposer) into a fine process -- the process itself can be beautiful and important.

And as I was saying or hearing this, I was extending my hand into the air, reaching into the light, and it was the hand of an old man.


That is a very positive dream.  It resolved something for me.


i had another DREAM

we were on a cliff above the sea, and there was snow everywhere. and even the ocean was largely frozen.  and there were beautiful penguins near me. the sky or the water or something was bright blue!

and I wanted to throw one of the penguins off the cliff for some reason... but when I did so the level of the water had risen so much that it was only a few feet down.

but the strongest part of the dream is that helena was there, and I woke up feeling entirely sad and missing her.   jealous of something...


9.7.14  In the air to Zürich- to Madrid

To suffer a sea change, into something rich and strange...

Thinking of activities which could consume me for a while
like doing my taxes, preparing my talk for tomorrow.
or writing like this.

Or body work, or even thinking about body work -- that process. Those details, how one thing leads so naturally to the next, and how when you are tired how you have to push a little and again and again. And how deep is the satisfaction.

How there are ways I know to do it that do not require energy -- and yet still lead to same truth -- the truth of the cycles of change.

The truth of the beauty of being.

A kind of pride, to be standing so tall and lifted in the gym, where others can see me, standing as an exercise, as a training, not stiff, but powerful, flexible, ready and alert, engaged and aware and calm.

To be special in this.  one of an elite -- those who know body work in a deep way.  Sometimes I meet others in the gym who look me in the eyes, like a greeting between members of a secret society. They get what I am doing.  And I get what they are doing -- pushing the limit, day after day.  With focus, dignity and grace.

It is frankly the only thing I have ever found in this life that is ALWAYS satisfying, always good, and for which there is no guilt, no subtle sense that I am wasting my time and actually should be doing else.

Which is of course ironic since... it is, of course, almost completely selfish and useless...  

I dreamt last night that there was a kind of amusement park, where you go to re-inact life in a nazi concentration camp. Where you go to assume the roles of the most suffering of people, in a re-creation setting, like those places where go to play cow boys and so on. And you do it as a cleansing, a kind of prayer. almost like a zen retreat. Like a zen retreat, I think you could pay, but you didnt have to. And I was talking with a friend, and decided to join. Thinking, they must have ways to keep it safe from disease and so on. To bring in the stench, without real health risks. Where they could starve you in a controlled environment.

And the dream was oddly beautiful, refreshing and hopeful.

I think it may have come from my sense of luck in my life. And my wondering if I may be missing some harder payment. Like zen is hard. or hard training, with sacrifice.

But to live simply, as a munch, and be happy. or at least calm. What a beauty and hope is there in this simple fact,
that relieves my fear of poverty.



whether eyes are opened or closed, or half closed;  whether speaking little words, or, silently, a montra; whether counting breaths, all little details.  important is to sit, 22 minutes.  there is a hand there, touching, ever-so-gently, reminding me, like thunder: I am. I am. I am.



A chicken is crowing, or whatever it is chickens do.

I am in the country, in Germany, near... well, near nowhere --  This must be good.  anonymous.  empty. alone.

If I can make it good. sit, twice a day, and do complete yoga, if in stages, parts...  these are the things a person needs.  well, this person.

I got some people yesterday...  in a  talk i gave. :)


Last night i dreamed

i was operating an airplane, it had two engines,

and you had to start each of them separately. I started them, and as we wheeled close to the edge, the drop-off -- you see we were parked, somehow somewhere in the clouds, and I was getting ready to take off again, to go back to earth, and it occured to me that I was not sure I knew really how to fly, certainly I was not licensed, or trained, but as we approached the edge of the cloudy launching place, I was not particularly worried. There was a woman with me, though no one i knew.

I felt happy, looking forward to the challenges, for example of a good landing, and I had a certain amount of confidence in spite of everything.



To continue like this, ,, seems

sad. the deep and lost kind.

almost horrible.

not to sit, every day. and do a complete yoga, "complete" decided by me, and of course is arbitrary, but this, i have learned, is hardly relevent. what exercises it contains, how many bows...

you just do it, like a sneaker, and according to a decision, and it makes all the difference.

hiking, or not. eating such meals, or traveling in the far off places of the world . looking out at the sea, or into the eyes of a strange beast, these nice things are not essential.

but the far simpler thing, the holding of ones life in ones hands, the seeing it, that is essential and necessary. not for me, but for the world!

that, i happen to know, is within reach.

society , this one, will not help with that. there are those that do! a collony here. a cloister there. ask renèe, the radical. she would know. or the monks.


to gain respect from mr. Lavau, you cut a celery well. (celery here, as in most places, is not the stalks, but the root of the plant. and the root has "eyes" which you have to cut away...).
but my point is, how different from Dad! <

Mr. Lavau proudly shows me his skill in making a "roti" (below) which took him about 3 minutes.
Its some kind of deer meat, wrapped up in some kind of fatty tissue...

A break from my normal rhythms. like backpacking, only much more comfortable. less physical, and less fresh air. but nice people, and amazing food.

I'm thinking of traveling ... Chile, Peru, Ecuador,,,, Patagonia.... i dont know. just hiking in a strange place, where you feel kind of helpless at first. then you slowly catch on to things. lots of walking. with my good legs. while i have them.

i remember a guy who was screwing together his bicycle at the camp site in Reykjavik - he had flown with it and was getting ready to ride.
i asked him which way and he said south around the big glacier. that's a pretty repetitive route. where for days the scenery does not seem to change. and he said that was the whole point. that nothing seems to change. like good meditation. he got me with that one. all by himself. i totally got it.

and later, as we spent a couple of days in Höfn, i walked a path along the sea, where summer homes with picture windows looked out over fjord, and I wanted to _have_ one of those little houses. and i pictured myself with some work, in my socks, sipping hot chocolate in the sun, looking out at this view.

but a moment later I thought: hey, but I have this view already. and I am overlooking the sea, and even better, I am in the fresh air.
and then suddenly this "to have" was gone, and i felt so complete just to be walking.

I (we) do go off 3 weeks a year. by American standards, not bad! Germans typically do 3 times that. paid leave. good social system.

on the other side, I know I am greatly gifted to have this project. the possibility to change something in the world, for a great many people. and brilliant creative team to lead. (no one is full time except me. 3 are half-time. and about 20 are on contract basis...) anyway, what a great thing that is -- wow. I feel so lucky. its never a chore. I simply love working on it.

but now its yoga time! that is a chore sometimes! but the good physical kind.


i found this on a scrap of paper:

there is power, life power in those old emotions.

there must be an art to using them, taming them. like a chemical, that in the right dose heals and gives you a gift in your heart, the ability to fly,
to lead others and inspire,

but otherwise will kill you. or at least make you sick.

taking drugs is an art.



Does it matter now? Is it überhollt perhaps, from ... age? some kind of fading? simple irrelevence?

does my Burning Flame have less heat? and the wind in heart a mere Summer breeze?

no, robert No! you have to fight. you always did. nothing, nothing essential has changed in this. To be an artist never did depend on how man yshows, newspaper reviews and so on. it never did.

i need to keep making these comments,
on what I see, and what I feel it means,
even now.

so, fine.

yesterday i met a black woman on the train. we spoke english and I asked her how her baby was doing. she said well, and then asked if I had babies. why not! she asked.

I thought at once about the abortions. and how much, now afterwards, they mean. there is almost nothing in my life... i cant think of a thing, that I regret more.

I had no answer for her, and so she asked again.

Its a good question. was all I could say.

"I dont have money, but I am as happy as I can be." and I believe her. i had heard her singing earlier as she was for a while alone in that train compartment.

"find a girl and have some babies," she advised. it the best thing you can do.



diana and i were the last two people alive on earth.  and we were thinking , or talking about what we should do...


yes, Im a good dreamer!


30.9.13   return of a dream

it came back to me, my lost dream:

I was at a high pass in the snowy mountains with strangers, deep snow. there was a cabin or hut sleep in.

they wanted to climb a mountain in the morning, a high peak, despite the bad weather. and I said, sure, I'll join you.

Helena, I think, had already climbed that same peak, so I knew it must be do-able.

and I had crampons (which I have never used in my life) and snow shoes.

I mean, I definitely was scared, and at first I said that I might not go all the way with them, but the more I thought about it, the more I had confidence to try.

There were places where it was a long way down, on both sides of the path.  (remember Iceland?)

8.9.13   too many feelings

early,much too early for me, I sit on the train to Berlin.
too emotional for a grown man, working his way through this real world.

what does this mean, these waves of doubt, and pure love, overlapping and twisted together in my mind? what did they ever mean?

and though I know that this is more a weakness than a strength, it is anyway there for me... to use. in my relationships, in my art... i would like to believe that anyway.

at 715, walking to the bus this morning, the line from shakespeare came into my mind: "to thine own self be true". I assume he meant dont kid yourself about who you are. dont try to be something youre not. but, is that not our daily Anstrebung - desire? what moves us forward?

anyway, its way too early for philosophy, and, not being the young man I once was -- no longer NEEDING to feel EVERYTHING I can, to see every sunrise, to jump into every river or ocean...

I wish more that I was under the influence of an anti-depressant, and have that feeling of man. everythings cool.

only instead of taking drugs, I practice zen.

DREAM:  I was in a room with tables and chairs on the walls, instead of on the fl

8.9.13   the rain has come

I am happy for the rain. The good weather was confusing me. It made me feel I was missing something: a trip to the lake, a canoe paddle down a stream, the smell of a girl's hair,...

If I had a shrink, I would question her on that point: why this fear of "missing out"?  where does it come from? how deep is it? 

And if I could free myself of it, would I then be more whole,

or less?

Maybe that is one of those "parts" of me, those "things about me" that go on my list.  

maybe it is also part of my drive, my joie de vivre, my love of rain.

1.9.13    rising

I got up early last week.  yes, me.

If there were a list of things that I could change in my life, after which I could say: "yes, there, I have it!  I have learned to live. This is how you do it."  that would go on it, I suppose.

And if I did arrive there. And did all the thigns "right", what then?  would I still have a reasons to keep doing things?

if I did have a list of things I wish I did, ways I wished I lived, what would it look like?

1 sit zen, twice a day
2 do yoga (essentially dance) every day
3 dont watch stupid things on screens at night
4 eat well, and not after 9.
5 work mindfully.
6 be nice to everyone

I usually do these things. most days. or many days. 
well, some days.

20.7.13    truck crash

dream: I was driving a truck, a big 16 wheeler, and while I did finally manage to find 1st gear, (there was no clutch), and it was indeed a very low gear, the breaks were either too weak, or i did not have the leg strength to stop on time. I crossed the intersection through the red light, and ran up into the grass and leaves on the other side. the two other trucks waiting at the light, one had a woman driver, they let me go first, to get back into traffic, but driving this thing was a bitch. I was not really ready, or properly trained.

there had been on "off" ramp to it, but no "on" ramp to get to it. so police or someone showed me on some kind of google maps thing how I could circle around, through the town to get to the weighing station, which was, technically, required. how impractical, I remember thinking. This truck was very difficult to drive. (though there was one in front of me that was being driven even worse than mine!)

haha. pretty funny.  all pretty fitting for my life right now!

20.7.13    difficulties

It happens, from time to time, that I feel ,,, unfairly treated.  Remember staying up all night,pissed that bill young had taken over some aspect of the tour?

That feeling that another strong willed person has taken over some question that I thought was in my control?

A powerful psychological trap for me. Like steve jobs when he would cry in the office about some power play he had to deal with... how he would fight tooth and nail for something

that often was not even that important.

I can see that in myself - like now, or lets say last week,

when someone (i still dont know who) ran roughshod over me to kick out the design firm I wanted to work with. 

Im not even sure that it was the wrong decision, though my instincts tell me it was

but how it was made, needs to be prevented in the future, somehow, with an Abmachung with Kai-uwe,

I want to prevent this kind of thing in the future.

But those feelings of resentment,how powerful they can be in me.  I have a lot of power in this venture.  I want to use them judiciously.

with patience, dignity and grace,

as opposed to childishly.

3.6.13      another coffee break

quick, qhick!  before the great instpiration has passed!   I dreamed of astronauts, that we were -- not dancers exactly, but for that astronauts!

and a cat that could swim.

filled with inspiration.

31.5.13      coffee hour :)

I once had the idea to make a list of the things that define me,
things that seem , well, not radical perhaps, but a little odd or different about me.

and that added together, that would be me.

I started it i think. somewhere. I think there must be 87 things in all.

that things gives me pleasure is surely not one of those things.
but i was thinking this morning how
like late at night sometimes, when I am hungry and I can hardly wait for the next
day when I can eat something salty !
crazy things like that,
it is not the thing,

but the _fact_ that things give pleasure,

the fact that there is a greater ,,, karma flow, at work.

and i remember you , reading die Zeit, one Sunday morning, and saying how great it was to
read and learn things. its like that. the _fact_ of enjoying somehow meaning more than what is actually being enjoyed.

not the pleasure itself.
if you see what I mean. kind of a larger philosophical view.

and I see some of the sacrifices that you make for your children,
which are so amazingly great to me, and I am sure that only know about a tiny part,
and of course they may not always seem to appreciate it.
but the world does. karma does.

Douglas Dunn, a new york choreographer I used to know
used to say, it doesn't matter to the dancer how a certain movement is done, but it matters to the world.

its like caring about the world, from an artist's point of view...

apropos artists,

I think I should get back into a big city. where such people hang out
and inspire us.

a second apartment in Berlin. share it with delphine. and probably some others.

I feel ready for that. again, after all these years ;)




28.4.13     Extraction

happy its almost over.  one more phase of this adventure.  

I definitely have a bad feeling about that dentist - the one that caused this problem, but its not anger exactly. 

somehow i take this philosphically. it is the only way that makes sense to me. and, of course, whats done is done.


(which may be a weakness of mine as much as anything haha)

so, as i said in my last entry, to learn from this

exquisite pain.  Pain, pure, without real meaning -- for one does not need wisdom teeth.

It is, in the tradition of Oklo, a shoving from the outside.  it almost has to be for it is almost impossible to shove oneself!

Already, for example, I have been able to cry.  not for pain, but for -- love and loss, the usual reasons perhaps, but in the most primitive primal sense,

of mother and brother. as intensely dark,

and yet

the source of all real power that I have had in this life.

and i wanted to call my brother again , and maybe I will, because he is involved,

as is the death of my mother,

who I would call if I could.

and so I cried today as I bicycled my training machine at the gym.  It came up from somewhere deep inside me,

like my mother, who, represented in the loving form of Ingrid, also made me cry, last Friday.


So it is perhaps strange to say it, but I am happy for this.  the chance it gives me, to feel so deeply again,

triggered by a tooth.



25.4.13       Pain

tooth pain. wow. intense.

learning from it..  pain management

like counting the time to when I can take another ibuprofen. or

breathing out, and with with each breath I measure carefully the pain, and find its easing.  "the breath out releases.." I say, each time I breathe.  focus.

studying its ... truth. its message.  like zen.

it comes and goes... that is the good part.
so im in pain, have pain, embrace pain, ride pain
for 5-10 minutes, and then something in my head,
in my jaw, reverses and the pain re-arranges itself.
like it fractures and moves around.  thats the part i love.

at times it is intense and while I know it could be worse -- Im sure! -- I am almost doubled over to endure it. and I pray it passes soon!

which so far it has, though I must admit the bouts
have somewhat intensified over the days.

then sometimes a part of it hangs on, dull and there,
and I count breaths, as I do in zen.

and after counting to 10 maybe 5 times, I am still with the pain, but now without the fear. and I say to myself, this is not rocket science and it is not deadly. my dentist can handle this. he will know what to do. he is that good at least...

and I am calmer.

but here's the thing: sometimes the pain is gone entirely. and I feel so elated. and free. and almost silly and friendly with strangers and full of life and joy.

and at those times I am thinking: it is almost worth the pain, to have these moments. and the pain is also life. life plus. it is, in jack's words, "so real". so accute, so etched into being. into this existence.  

22.4.13    Celle Ligur, where else?

where else would i be but in a random Italian town

by the Sea?

saw helena and her kids and her semi-transparent man last 2 days. kids sparkling with light! they are discovering life and the world. remember? The Big Adventure?

They and that could have been mine,

in that moment in frieders garden, could not all things have been different, if I had only said, "this matters most of all..."  (when she told me she was pregnant).

but that was not my choice.

all of it. 

now, if now was then, it would be. but now is not then...

back to that summer when the clearest thing in the world to me was that I would always be a step behind that I was destined to lose in that game of love.

that I was the one apart. the one made to be the poet (as I think Virginia Wolfe once said).  (of course, not with words, in my case. and anyway, it is the power I speak of and not is use).

This dawned on me when i was 17. that this is how it would be for me.   again and again. how did i know?

and every time i thought i found it, as with helena, i secretly knew that it was a dream, a myth.

How did i know all this? 

and do i really prefer to have those kids?  and all that.


18.3.13    real

i have to write.  its late, but i have to.  its life. its passing. im in it, and its moving, but its also passing by.

blink. im young.  

watching nolan movies, about memory, and reality. how to keep it i guess.  find it and keep it.  like if you are busy seeing the faces of your kids, you will not notice or care if the top falls over or not.  if things really do count for something,

so does writing them down make them more real, or less?

i want to open the window wide tonight, to smell the blowing snow with all its memories of Iowa, and,,,  mystery. 

and how as a teenager, I would repeatedly write that life was so strange and beautiful.

and that it seemed to almost burn with desire.

blink, im old.  or almost.

this week and the last and the last have been fast.  helena, said "good"! I'm not sure why she said that. fast time is good time?  i wanted  to cry out, hey wait.  wait!

and write the things that make up me, the specialness of me.  like how after my right hamstrings are just a little too much stretched, a little more than usual,  twice one day, instead of once.

Or how i get herpes on the back of my right leg. and i have for 30 years.   no one knows that! haha. 

or how i get up in the night to write things sometimes.  because i want time to stand still for a moment.


I did not sit zen today.  can you tell?

i am hungry for

something i never quite found, but art , making it, came about as close as anything could.  its just that art, is itself so nebulous.  i choreograph, for example, what?  phrases?  for whom??

or, what?  technology art?

i spent 8 hours today, sunday, building a simulator for the motioncomposer.   interesting,, that i did that.  that i wanted to.  was drawn to.  i did it like art. i knew it would be tedious and not particularly useful.

the engineers told  me it is a waste of time.  and i partly believe them.   but i wanted to anyway.  see? to do something really well, even while knowing that is useless.   see, its like art.

useless is good! see? it emphasizes the making, the caring. the doing.  the value in that.  hahaha!


27.2.13    not bad

talking at breakfast, I told about how it was, how it can be, being in a dance company -- rehearsing together, traveling, performing, and my friend was envious.

He is young, and still could, haha. but my point here is how wonderful some of those things were!  I can hardly believe how lucky I have been, to be able to have had that life.  seeing it objectively I mean, who wouldn't admire it?

And now to have this one, this exciting challenge. There have been some pretty stupid years in there I must admit. its been very up and down.  But the ups...

for that alone, one has to feel pretty damn impressed and satisfied.

22.2.13      severed heads

i had a dream that i needed the severed heads of my parents for my project, for the device.  so i had them in these polyurethane bags, kind of zip-lock, and I was thinking, well, its good plastic, should keep all the gook insdie.  The I remember wondering why it wasn't grossing me out, even the neck part...

29.12.12    that time of year

again, thoughts of starting to sit every day, getting up at ... well, earlier.  fear of the coming year. the enormity of the challenge.

to build something new for the world.

many with more smarts than me have had such ideas...  well, few with my knowledge and sense of the meaning of the human body in movement.

i'm reading biography of steve jobs. 

I am thiniking of what it will take.

a thousand times I have had the idea to sit zen, and stretch, regularly. I do stretch regularly. most days. I probably sit 3x a week.

but I mean something else.  more.

and mornings.  its not my natural rhythm. 

but now its about this job, and the vision it will take... the new vision and power.  I know of no other way to derive such power.    as I have been?  no. that is not enough.

my intuition tells me that.  steve talks about that.  I cannot prove it, but I can know that I believe it.

so now, how to get there from here?  the zen monks say, put stones in a bag and one will polish the other.

so I need to find a few stones. in weimar...

start with google.  try the yoga houses...

I can do it alone - but it will take a LOT of focus.  I have time for it now, but later I will not.

I can start on the 1st.  or I can start right now.

15.11.12    what do you think about when you do it?

a woman came up to me in the studio while i was stretching and asked, aparently dumbfounded,

"What do you think about when you do that?"

I wanted to say something profound, but I could only laugh. 

15.11.12    fear of happiness

It scares me to feel happy.

I heard recently someone else say the same thing.

probably a lot of people feel that.  its an existential thing.

13.11.12    Dreams of Cunningham

I wonder what he dreampt.

I dreamed that the bit of choreography I have been working on _meant_ something.  That it had some real value

for something.

interesting dream. funnyvtool.

a little choreography every day. thats the rule!

3.11.12    Malo, Italy

not yet.  and, by the way, I am a dancer after all.

this morning, for a few moments at least, I knew what art is.  with all its mystery and confusion, , i can see so clearly the poetrification of life -

not as a comodity, but as a neccessary release, like steam that has to blow out of a pipe in an old factory. too much energy, too much life, but not too much of course, because its great. like the energy of a drunk, when they are brilliant and have done their homework (that stuff will kill you though).

whereas art will keep you alive!

(i can hardly wait to work on my choreography).
hammer hammer, tinker tinker though it may be... something always leaks through...

a twisted kind of genious.  its not enough to be clever haha (that works to my advantage) and

it has to do with the song "they didnt have to love me"  "fly" from joshua the film

6.10.12    strange dream


The cat kept brining in dead mice, you know the way cats do that.  But these bloody mice were everywhere, and while appreciated the good intentions of the cat,,,

what do you think this dream means?

30.9.12    Bye Palindrome!

I decided today to close Palindrome.

I'm not a dancer anymore!  Not that I can't, or won't -- I will --  but just because I do not need that identity anymore.  and moreover, the codec that has been my truest companion through this journey.

<<more on that elsewhere>>


And Palindrome, the official side of it anyway closes. . and I was surprised that it affected me emotionally. A little sad i guess, but not only. Like Cunningham's end, it is pride too. But mostly a kind of zen … peace. You do the thing with discipline and without compromise -- a set of ethics, arbitrary as they may be. and yet they are … there is a tradition there. I read the biographies of some of the great artists and said Yes! That is partly where I found my Codec - my code to live by. a set of principles. something to believe in.

Closing it means accepting a new set of principles. I do not have to dance everyday. I have to build my product. In a few days we are supposed to find out if we have a business partner in a company called IMM. even if we do not, I will go forward. I believe in it,and i am not without allies!


27.9.12  Notes and dreams off my other puter

Beautiful Fall morning. Im sitting in the garden under an apple tree. Good day to go climbing, or canoeing or to have sex all morning with a beautiful young woman… but I will not. I could, but I was thinking this morning what a lazy bum I am. a happy bum, but a lazy one. Oops. Whatever happened to carpe diem?

Ahh delicious coffee, and even though every day is like Sunday for me, Sunday can still be special, can still go slow and luxuriously. haha!

and isnt this carpe diem too? Not to stress and rush and pack and plan and _think_?!



hhhhhrunning adn running.
a few minuts ago i was in a marathon, i was urnning through buildings like a university campus or something. i had stopped to get a badly needed snack - a big piece of licorice in the shape of an hourglass or a spindle, it was cheweey and sweet and grey,
but i had a long way to go. where were the others i was wondering. i cant be the only one so far back from the lead pack…### yesterday i was running too. only then in the rain, uphill, to catch a train or a plane.

i woke up breathing fast. hm... WAS HEART BEATING STRANGELY IN MY SLEEP?##i did not bicycle, i mean at the gym either yesterday, or the day before.
are these dreams telling me that i need to.++obviously
they speak about the fear
i am having these days about time, ad my strangely advanced age.
advancing. young guy, they call me. but my face… my face gives me away, like those children with that disease where they they age too rapidly.

in my dreams, i am a good runner. i have a chance to win, or to catch the plane.
i just need to do it. and i am… admittedly a little late. dr dr what does this mean`? i would so like ot know what it all means.

the circadian rhythms, like a drum, bang bang bang, faster and faster. i get into bed, i get up. like my heartbeat dance. the rhythm of our lives. big dance.

maybe it is because i am choreographing <a little) again… a phrase. i want to video it. i want to reconstruct the one i lost too! oof. much to do you see. much that matters. i think of how cunninghams felt when he was dying . i heard someone say, he was filled with ideas for his next dance, which amazed even him…

just that there are these drives.



life is, you know, so fucking strange. we go along, 99.9% of the time pretending that its fixed, that it is solid, and somehow known. as we understood anything at all! when i get into bed alone, every night now how impossible it is, this farce.

nothing negative, just kind of square in the face. i sat zen today deep in the forest. no one saw me come or go. no one heard my chanting. i come and go, unseen.
this is the way of zen. to whisper. to be so light that we are one with the air and nothing can hurt us. like those fluffy seeds that travel in the air this time of year, neither sinking nor floating higher. just perfectly there.

and i know that it means to work again, and as well as i can. to choreograph a little more (i am working on a little something), and to be kind to others. i know what the message is: carpe diem! carpe every diem. but at the end of the day, the day is done, just like the one before it. flip, flip, flip the pages are turning awfully quickly now.

get up early, drink strong coffee, and sit zen again. then call the tax office. haha! might as well laugh at myself. merrily merrily.

every evening i think, there are a couple of projects i need to do. useless things. things i cant even call art, but things that must be done,
before i die. not sure why,,, but like it matters. strange.
like, making a list of the things that are me. those little quirky things that are just me. like my dreams of flight. or to get in touch with all the people ive ever known, and say, here i am! here we are! we touched each other once! like gail stepanek. write her and say, dont panic, call stepanek.

a dancer i met maybe once in my life. i rented her studio and made up that ad for her. repeat it , like a a little joke no one knows but me. there are a lot of those.

i guess thats ok. i have friends. whom i love.




dear diary,
its a been a while, years probably.

remember lying in bed at purchase so full of hope and vision. and happy in my heart, for i was reaching out. i was dancing. and it had nothing to do with reality, but haha, who cares? it is the same today!

the end of summer is always a sad time.

but ok, what i wanted to say is that i can hardly wait to dance tomorrow - to work on my gesture dance again.
and to train! yey dance!
training, which I did today, makes us feel like doing it again! and that is

life. it keeps itself going.

my dancing life

has been a mixture of
great frustration in its lack of popularity,
respect and money,
and deeply-felt joy and release in its practice.
and the odd successful show and applause, but mostly just rehearsing and training.

and dreaming

the choreography, the actual making of it,
nothing beat that

so i will do it in the morning,
for its own sake,
and that is enough, and even good.

i know there are others out there
with the same ,,, strange life.
lisa for example,
or helena,

and that is some confort. i can tell them they are not crazy. and they me.




i said,, i heard myself say, "i'm practicing being me".



way to live.

is life going in circles?
hm. i am older again its true, but have I been here before?
and while I am asking questions, what happens when we die?
does the world continue, or does it stop as well?


my idea is to never do anything longer than an hour. that is a good time to work on something.
after an hour, switch to something else.
some films, most films are 2 hours long, so i guess that is an exception.
but like today, i was working on something, and after an hour became two,
and then my yoga was 9pm in the office, and i lay on the floor exhausted
and did not have the energy to pedal up the hill.

or sit. or i forgot to.
but i think i would have remembered if I had only stopped
the thing i was doing. taken a break. break it. keep breaking it.
hm. i have the feeling that this represents a more efficient
way to live.


efficient? at what? at sitting. i sit for the world.
i did used to understand this, and i thought it was for myself.
but to interact with people in a good way,
means that i have i clear sense of myself. and this comes from sitting.

you spread it out. you leave it behind.

a good day. i felt good.
i worked in my office from 9 to 8. um, 11 hours.

i took an hour and a half for lunch. though i spent most of it sewing.

and buying things for the office. we had some budget money left over
which can only be spent on office supplies.
boy it sure is hard to spend 200 euros on stationary.

eating sushi took maybe 15 minutes. bento box, 3 nigiris, 1 maki, a little sea weed, a miso soup.

anyway, my day, yes. and yet i did no training, well, 3 minutes of bicycling.
no yoga, no climbing, no dance or choreography, no sitting either.
just office work.

and not even interesting office work. but i was alive
through all of it.

not hurting. and not afraid.

i ate strawberry sorbet with absolut vodka over it.
i took a bath reading murakami.

full full belly. marc made rinder braten. wow. i was impressed.
then i got out of there when they started to smoke :)
and ate a pint of cherry yogurt
rich, and natural...

then bath, and some murakami...

happy me.

illusion happy ... illusion sad

hey, ill take what i can get.

my first and only attempt at poetry.

i was 10. i remember showing it to my mother
who was an accomplished writer.

she thought for a few seconds and then said,
"im not sure what it means, but it has a nice quality".

i took the paper and left.

good answer.

not that it was a good poem, im sure it wasnt,
but she might have helped me to re-write it
or discussed its meaning with me
what do you think it means?

the FACT that i wrote the damn thing at all.
not its literary value. the fact...

the filter
what one might fail to see
is that the dirt and water are both still there

the dirt was evil i think. and the water goodness. thats all i remember.

well, its better than what she said about my dancing or choreography.




22.9.12    On a ferry to Konstanz

quick quick before the inspiration is gone!

thoreau said there is an hour in the morning when some part of you is awake that sleeps the rest of the day.  he meant after coffee of course. but an hour is short.  i have to type fast!

greatness. the things one _can_ accomplish. i can see it sometimes so clearly.  and then there is me.

and at first i want to say "pathetically outgunned", but then correct myself, "finding my way...". 

thinking for example of my "mistake" in revealing business dealings to an employee (adrien).  suddenly he is asking for more money!

the important psychology of such things is so far from me.  me as outsider.  as counter culture artist.

but, this venture needs the other thing.

so ok, other me. other hat.  here we go...

9.9.12    On a ferry to Konstanz

I'm a little on edge these days. I'm blaming it on the business decisions coming up -- things that people call "important". Well, I call them that too, only for me it means something a little different. A business is a model so firm in this culture and I question all such models. The way the modern world works...

This doubt, you understand, is not just based on something I philosphize about, it is not only a part of a credo that I cooked up (during another phase of my life, the artist's one), but it is, and always was,

essential to my nature. It is not a concept of me, it is me.
But OK, business it is . It is my desire to try to make this thing. It gives a purpose, a sense, a rationale to my interests and existence. 


Larry reminded me on the telephone yesterday how we, we older guys, know how to climb over our emotions. uh... sometimes. That a heavy mood can come over us and we can do sports and make it go away. Just like that. well, sometimes it is really is that simple.

Such clarity. Thats admirable! And I was thinking after meditating today how the dances we took could be perfect. not that we moved perfectly of course, but how perfectly we worked. How hard we worked with every ounce of our body and soul. Wow! And that is something we did day after day.

Of course it brought us nowhere. well, no where in this society. But it was worth it anyway. how strange is that?

But back to my edge-ness.  So I took a day off. I had the great idea to climb some mountain but

somehow trashed my knees.  shit.  this is depressing. no knees no climbing.  no dancing!

i have to learn _not_ to do ,,, whatever the fuck I did!



Rich people piss me off. I dont even need to meet them. Just to hear about them. the richer, the more so. Its nothing personal. They makes me feel loss. a feeling i am prone to , and hate. and it is probably unhealthy for me.
I heard a story in the news about suits. why 5000$ suits cost so much. at the end I only wanted one, and knew I would never have one.


1.9.12    On the dance world

Through most of my dance training, and career, if I may say that,

I remember thinking,

"how old-fashioned!" that we should go onto a stage, under the lights.  how stiff.  how 19th century.

while I liked the discipline and the training, I thought we need a whole new model of dance.

This was so clear to me.

and now when I see what is happening in the some of the european dance scene today, what little I know of it, I think:

You see!

1.9.12    Hybrid

am I too personal?  too solipcistic?  probably.but im not sure that this is art anyway.  the rules are different. Its a hybrid.  like me.

anyway, she was there again.  The Girl/Woman that has always been

nearby.  and in my dreams.  whom I loved. 
and she left.

as powerful as ever?  maybe not.  but high, lofty, like rainy wind and tears,

and I woke up wanting ot ask helena why she left me.  after I gave her all of me, all my kindness and humor and warmth.  was it not enough?  I am really that flawed?

probably. but anyway, its nt ethe right question.   love happened.  bad luck is all.  ive had good luck too.  like to have found her at all.

but sometimes i wish she would not visit me in my dreams quite so often.  I always wake up crying.


I also dreamed last night that my father had had my mother "reconstructed" -- like brought back to life as a kind of robot to keep him company.  it looked like her, or somewhat, only much younger, and she walked around and talked, but had no soul.


31.8.12    Tuesday morning

I picked up 3 apples in the garden and started to juggle them.   when I stopped, a bee crawled out of one of them and stung me.

15.8.12    Sunny morning

I dreampt:

I was running, fast, in two poorly matched shoes.  they were hardly shoes actually, taped together out of pieces of found things, but anyway my speed was incredible and inspiring.  as only running youth can be.

(i saw a music video recently in which all that happens is guys run through an abandoned city.  brilliant!  though i doubt it had anything to do with my dream. )

my parents and I were leaving a hall where we had just heard a speech by president bush (though his face was more like...  not sure, wire rimmed glasses... daddy maybe).  I remember a little of that feeling that used to go along with dancing for me, a kind of anger:   "Ill show them!"

And I ran on ahead, like flying I was strong.  and then up an incredibly steep hill, where I had to use my hands on the corners of the road, only the road was no long pavement, but more like particles of light, packed tightly together.

by the way, the president finished his speech by singing "when you wish upon a star...".

and earlier I was tightening a bright red clothes line.  by pulling the slack back and forth through the rack.  it was complicated.

what does it mean?

14.8.12    On being me

I was meditating in the park and words came into my head, like someone was talking to me. They said:

"I'm practicing being me."

its funny, but it really does take practice.

12.8.12    Weimar

can't sleep.  it doesn't happen often, so I can't really complain...

but here I am in my little dining room, eating yogurt, reading my book on human evolution, and waiting for sleepiness...

I was nervous today, though I do not know why.  Nervous a lot these days...

Yesterday my "employer" at the fitness studio where I teach yoga told me she wanted to talk to me on Monday.  She represents my parent, of course, in my freudian mind.  and so it sent me into a strange state of ... cowardess?

Certainly self-doubt, which perhaps is another word for fear.  And I am planing a company these days, and it seems so BIG sometimes, like now, much to big for little me. Tinker Bell found a way never to grow up.  Did she succeed?  I do not remember how that story ends.  one thing is sure:  she managed it for a time.

I want to run to my parents for help.  for a cry and a hug. I can almost remember that instinct!  like the smell you get on the wind sometimes when the rain is coming, of something distant and very powerful.

To the artist, with his credo, such things always mattered, but I do not know what I am exactly now.  So I do not ... know what to do with all this...  I do not know what it is for. 

Like the feeling I often have after training now: good, but the yet guilty because I have warmed up and not rehearsed.  That I sherked the truly important part, the art part, the creation.   I used to always fear that part, and without Helena I _would_ have sherked it.

And now there is no Helena anymore,
and no parents either...

Perhaps this means I need to choreograph again, as therapy.


8.5.12    San Fernando, Spain (near Cádiz)

quiet morning.  an hour to think, in this cool conference room alone.  what a pleasure!

reminds me of mornings in the church in new york.   when I felt I could make things happen, just by thinking them through carefully enough, and then in a sense I proved my own theory by organizing my first performing tour to Norway.

Its what I thought it meant to be a Wechsler: clear-thinking, emotionless, but eminently powerful.  haha!

the work is ... work.  ok, good work.  with 18 motivted students, psychologists, care givers -- people who work with people with disabilities.

Busy week of workshop.  Josepha is leading things more and more.  excellent.

3.5.12    Valladolid, Spain

People with disabilties...

20.4.12    Trondheim, Norway

Conference + working with andreas.   great week!

15.03.12    Berlin, ministry of ... something

my mother died today. 

tomorrow Im flying to north carolina to ... remind me what ...  this is all pretty strange.

12.03.12    Berlin, ministry of something

SPEAKER is speaking ,,, innovation, investment, yada yada ya.....

lots of suits. black, black, black, black, gray. Mine is gray.

I wonder if I could find a place to do yoga here?

we had to go through metal detectors to get in. I guess that means people with money are here.

my badge is green. that means "looking for money". some people have red badges. those are the ones with the money. haha. quite funny scene.

I got up at 5:30 to get here for this wonderful inspiring speech.... yaaaawwwwn.

There is a poster outside this lecture hall about motioncomposer. among others. lets see... I am supposed to stand next to it and give out cards and talk.  then there are these little rooms, where you go for tete à tete's.   its called "partnering". (Germans love using English words, somewhat wrongly).  ok, partnering. fine. whatever.

it makes me feel very empty to be here......

 * * *

I was standing there 2 minutes and a man came up to me and offered me 200,000 euros. well,,,,, sort of. we talked for 10 minutes. maybe we'll sit together later in one of those little rooms. haha. like the little rooms prostitutes have in Amsterdam.  He was cute.  Very macho.

Hey, in the Münich airport there are these booth-like rooms, like little houses, _in_ the airport waiting areas.  they have four doors on them, one on each side. and when you swipe your credit card, you can go in and there is a bed inside. cute. I think it was 30 euros an hour. tempting.  To bad there's no prostitutes.


scroll down...





we were in the water, the ocean, at the beach swimming
it was wild, the surf i mean.
but the scene too: thousands of crazy young people
some with surf boards - i mean skaee boards
because the dream was also in the streets
doing tricks, showing off
taking drugs, very californi everything.

and my father was there younger than he is now

and we were going around shaking people down, like cops

we had said freeze EVERYONE, or eberything, so like the surf too had frozen
so powerful we were, wechslers

and i had the power to say, "you, come with us". or he*s ok, let him go
before we turned the surf machine back on

only he had disappeared, dad.
and we were looking for him
but a moment ago, he was looking for... or worried about
one of us

and I had just spoken with him, conspiratorially... or at least
going along with his "serious" tone (realistic)
like this was all very serious to him

what a wild crazy beach party was to the rest of the world

so when i woke up, i immediately made a speech
for his funeral, which of course there will never be
(he would not have one - his is an atheist)

dear parents

(rememeber my dear family speech
modeled after alan goods, dear class speech in acting class
how he made everyone cry
and how i did

dear dead parents

you may not have believed in god, and maybe i dont either
but i allow it. believe. spirits -- like how i saw mom in that cardinals eyes

so many great storires... no one told, because they were simply irrational!
great fucking stories, like my dream. like so many of my dances.

and what it means to be artist, what i am.
in my heart.

the turning yourself inside out story
from school

and munch, my secret brother. or spirit-buddy.

my brother, to have one at all
or sister, lost , through so many years of battle

so much, in fact, lost
your, moms too,
steadfast denial
of the irrational
acceptance of my art, or even me
the artist in my brother
the one in my sister
or her religion -- yes, God, hey you can be there too, in my heart
hell, love itself,

he learned, more lately to say i love you

is this a critic on him?
so much anger i have lived
for so long

woody allan said only after his fathers death did he finally
stop many of his anxieties.





im happy. i want to start by saying that.

this is one of the best times of my life. this job is EXACTLY what I would want. i am being supported to chase down a dream. and its interesting and fun work. i built something today, out of wires and soldering and little light bulbs. a testing device. and it worked!! of course the engineers did the real work -- the fancy stuff, but i contributed! something real.

and of course i am the director. the leader. the one with the vision. which has its own good feeling.

so im good.


... maybe its the colder weather,, and the end of summer...


i keep feeling like talking to you. i dont know. about meditation, about dance , about life, about death.
about kids, and cycles and all that bigstuff.

maybe thats it.. the bigness. we have both always understood that. how good it is to be humble and simple,,,

and then we want to go on stage. or we did.

anyway, my mom is of course getting worse. slowly, that parkinsons is making her life hard. and weird i guess.
my father went to a neighbors to get something, and when he came back there was an abulence there. she had called them because she said she could not wake him up -- but he wasnt even in the house to wake up. shes done the same thing twice. and other weird things. passing on takes a while. when is the right time to go? when indeed.

love love love to you

i had a happy day today. :) i sat. i worked hard at the office, and i climbed in the gym. then went back to the office for an hour,,, then cooked couscous for me poured melted cholcolate over a banana. then i talked on the phone with larry and delphine... i still miss you ... i know you so well, even that you have changed, i know that too...


That people walk these rainy pre-dawn streets as if nothing were wrong. As if the world were not dying. As if this were susanable -- to use the parlance or our times.

But this does seem strange,, this passivity. This acceptance. They bought it. We all did,,, most of us. We move exactly as if it always was like this, and always will be.

Its like a mold, a people mold. cars, always cars speeding all around, who made it? who chose it? it is so organized, decided upon.

one theory is that it was a collective decision. as if commitees of wise men had sat in a circle and thought this up. others, the ones i listen to, say that the second group of people, the ones we do not see, the much smaller and isolated ones from the ones i am looking at now. they live in mansions overlooking the sea and fly around in private jets.


springtime! o, springtime. new life, new love.
i am young again. a yellow spinkler held up high so the water dances in amazing spirals in the sun. and now a bird. A bird!

on my way to work in istanbul i used to go past a little boy every morning who had a scale and for ten cents he would sell you your weight. is it only pitty now that makes me wish I had paid him for my weight every day? what is "pitty" anyway, and is it good or bad?

like the businessman in westchester who buys a coffee from a similarly disparate figure every morning from behind a cart on wheels at the communter train station. they smile to one another, bonding in a particular ritual that is part love, but mostly commerce. a few kind words, and while it seems so easy relaxed, in fact it is guided by stict ritual. it looks free, like love, but they both embrace the rules.

my father and his father were like that, structuring their days around such things. They paid not just for coffee of course, but for the ritual. The rich man uses it as a way to feel like a chum, an "ordinary guy". Every morning for twenty years the says, "keep the change".

People like those things of course, even though the whole system actually sucks a big one. it is so pathetic and unfair and wrong. the coffee seller should be, i dont know, maybe painting murals. certainly the boy with the scale should be in school and the school should be excellent!


what is important? what is really important, to do in this life,
before im gone. …? haha, if anything!
diana would know. and she would laugh i am sure (and hide her tears)
but the only thing i can think of
is my list of the dumb things
that i have noticed
that make up me. the little things, that seem, since there is nothing else i can think of, that make up what i am. the special thing that i am. or was.

so, someone will read it, i hope, and think. like i did when i met a person or two
near their end, and i took that with me.




remember? writing, at night, in the cool fall, when the sky was colored and then dark.., remember feeling inspired? #
not that i knew what , or how i could say anything about anything

but i did see my life arching across the world, and i loved it and it seemed important.
and even if i could not do great things, well, i would try, and i would see

something new. for new is the essence. change. and keep changing, and never stop.

that was my motto then, part of my credo, and it is my motto still.

there is a model there, a kind of man
worth being. one that stays innocent somehow, even as he knows,
one that still seduces pretty girls, even as he knows that he does not really
need to care
that the game, the energy is more important than the words one takes on.
all the words.

anyway, change things. again and again robert. go to france. begin anew.
and anew.
meet people, strangers and be yourself to them. practice it. practice being me.
in different situations.

i talked to a strange woman in a bar yesterday. and she say,
how can you do that? talk to strangers like that. haha! if she only knew
how unsure i am of myself most of the time. but still, i had to take the compliment and smile. i really did impress her.



I'm a little on edge these days. I'm blaming it on the business decisions coming up -- things that people call "important". Well, I call them that too, only for me it means something a little different. A business is a model so firm in this culture and I question all such models. The way the modern world works...

This doubt, you understand, is not just based on something I philosphize about, it is not only a part of a credo that I cooked up (during another phase of my life, the artist's one), but it is, and always was,

essential to my nature. It is not a concept of me, it is me.
But OK, business it is . It is my desire to try to make this thing. It gives a purpose, a sense, a rationale to my interests and indeed

Larry reminded me on the telephone yesterday how we, we older guys, know how to climb over our emotions. uh... sometimes. That a heavy mood can come over us and we can do sports and make it go away. Just like that. well, sometimes it is really is that simple.

Such clarity. Thats admirable! And I was thinking after meditating today how the dances we took could be perfect. not that we moved perfectly of course, but how perfectly we worked. How hard we worked with every ounce of our body and soul. Wow! And that is something we did day after day.

Of course it brought us nowhere. well, no where in this society. But it was worth it anyway. how strange is that?

Rich people piss me off. I dont even need to meet them. Just to hear about them. the richer, the more so. Its nothing personal. They makes me feel loss. a feeling i am prone to , and hate. and it is probably unhealthy for me.
I heard a story in the news about suits. why 5000$ suits cost so much. at the end I only wanted one, and knew I would never have one.













































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































12.03.12    waiting to see a lawyer

Im wearing my best clothes











































I have to give back the money
that I got a couple of years ago from the german hartz IV -- its kind of an unemployment money

and now Im going to be asked to give it back

and i tell myself everyday, a few times a day, that it is fine to do so, and only fair and right.

Why the doubts?  Simply the years of living outside of the Law?   and that is changing. so its like I have to get used to a new set of clothes.

07.03.12  Hanover.  (CeBit)

still dazed and profoundly confused
by my own mortality

I climb into bed
still hungry for art

23.2.12  Montreal.   Pikolo Café

advantage of being jet-lagged: you get up at 7 and beat the crowd for the best tables at the tiny but phenomenal Pikolo Café.  Great Capuccinos.

Portugese music playing.  whack whack whack of the coffee thing in the hand of the coffee maker. snowing like crazy outside.

My workshop here is of less fun and interest than I expected.  I even felt a bit bored when I got up this morning, but maybe that was just the normal let down after the show(ing), along with any pre-coffee depression.  hahaha.

but it does seem like i need to bring this motioncomposer thing to the next level...   kick some ass. 

my mother's last words to me were
you go finish that thing you're building
make it for the old people who can be helped by it

she really meant it.  wow.
a nd her eyes they were wet
but crystal clear.

23.2.12    Davy Jones is dead.

remember the Monkees?  my generation is dropping away.  and then?  When I visit my mommy and daddy I always forget to ask them what happens to us when we die...   Nagging question.

Time to sit zen.

oh yes.

I remember a woman at dinner in the old people place who was frozen. Her fork was in mid air on its way to some target on the table in front of her.

but on its way she forgot where she was going. I mean, she was frozen solid. as in

n o t  m o v i n g.

And then later,
as I was leaving I said good bye to her, and she said "I wish...".   A then she was looking at me. frozen again like she was trying to call up the words.  Finally I said, "communicate?"  And then she snapped out of it , and said, "yes, that we could talk".

I did not know what to say, so I smiled and nodded.  And said, "its OK. maybe tomorrow", but we both knew that that was a lie. 

Inside that frozen woman, there was probably trapped a brilliant mind, rich and full of stories and compassion. 

The things I experienced at that place
still kind of ... eat at me.  I wonder how the workers can handle it.  all that ... existential ... stuff! 


So you get it,

visit to my parents left a heavy feeling in my heart.  Not sure what I expected -- how else would we die?


20.2.12  Chapel Hill, North Carolina

no amount of warnings, or mental preparation,
could have prepared me for the sight of my mother
shriveled up and twisted in her wheel chair
complaining and confused.

you get used to it. you smile and look for the person you knew
inside there.
and she is there,
some of the time,
so its ok.

but its not ok.
and she is probably addicted to morphine.

After I did my yoga in their little health center, 4 little old ladies came up to me with sparkles in their eyes and compliments and said how I had inspired them.
  : )

a friend of mom's, 10 seconds after we met, said, "show me some dancing".  So i did the first 100 gestures of my dance and she laughed out loud and clapped (as did the small crowd that had gathered). My parents missed it. Though they caught the applause and laughter perhaps wondering what they had missed. They never ask me to dance.

"Am I difficult?", I asked Delphine on the phone. "Will I be difficult when I am old?".  She said no. and no. 
But anyway I had to cry.


21.1.12  Weimar.   creation.

hungry feeling -- but not the belly.  its that old burning.  the wind in my heart.  the creative power-thing that comes up inside me -- i wish i had a name for it.   or a place for it.  A simple art form to put it into.

but my art was never simple.

'Art' ... is the word I learned for it. though the connection is almost always vague.  I know I have written about this many times.

I use the word only because edvard munch did, and he described in his diaries so many things I understand, about having the same feelings.
He called it "Nature".  at least when love and sex were inolved.

what ever its name, it comes.  as it always has. 
and on a good day it brings with it ideas for movement.

or it comes _from_ movement, visions of movement, working towards a particular effect -- one that i can glimpse, in like a dream, and i strategize how to make it real.

show on the 12th of feb.

31.12.11  Paris.   the master's passing.

it ends tonight. many will be there, some i loved, as artists, but hey, with passion nevertheless! ok, many not... i wonder if susan emery will be there, to cry perhaps, with the others. in the amoury in new york city will be the last cunningham performance. ever.

i checked into flights. 663.-   too much?    :(

to say good bye to something so great. something i appeciated to the fullest-- the beauty i saw in his work, in their work, has been unmatched in this life.

well, i saw a couple of shows in paris last week. that was my goodbye i guess.

oof, but that is a show i REALLY regret missing. one I would have carried with me my whole life. i got to see the excerpts list - in the events - great shit. best of.... everyone will cry, everyone who knows what it means that is.

delph says its a good thing i miss it. things move on and i should be seeing other things. she says i would just have gotten so nastalgic that it would not be healthy.

but i dont agree. it is about choreography and dance. not just sentiment. it is about inspiration. not just in the general sense, but i get IDEAS watching that stuff.

maybe the question is: what is choreography to me, in my life now. i can do it. and i am good, but

actually i have gone another path... i will be doing it next week. but, only next week. its not my life anymore. hm. imagine that.

but to understand what that aesthetic and way of working - so much like zen actually - to have lived through those times, was something life-changing for me. like merce always said, it is so fleeting. even for us who followed him.


call me old fashioned, call me, sentimental, but i believe those movements, designed as they are, communicate. and sealed up within that box of a theater, now, right now, and now again, they mean Something.

you know, i used to feel like I was in a church when I watched that stuff.

i feel stranded and yearning. It will never again be seen. I did not expect to miss it this much. Merce, my zen father, my master, I miss you.

17.12.11  Weimar

i finally reached my ailing mother.  she asked,"do you really like working with persons with disabilties?"  I said I like working with people, and they are people.

I would have liked to tell her more about it.


on choreography as an identity. remember!?   what I am, was, am, was, am? a movement organizer - remember, it is not something I do.  but rather am. this was so clear to me, as strange as it is,  many years ago.  it was really that way,  and on some level I think it doesnt change.  once a person has come to a point like that...  and so , when the body feels capable, its as if I MUST do it.  its me. and not to do it denies me my true nature.   the "what" -- what to choreograph -- is not the point.  it hardly matters.  like merce, you put it together, carefully, and it will have needs of its own.  you listen ot _its_ needs. it serves an art.  

I choreographed today.  even though my calf is still injured...  so it was a sloppy half-way rehearsal.. but hey... immerhin!

17.12.11  Weimar

what ever it is, it must be OK.  it is, after all, natural -- it is part of Nature.  it is not something generated by our little minds.  it belongs more to the core of things, heart of what we are .

the "i dont want!" reaction, is that of a child. it is a reaction of the surface.  instinctive, pure , full of sparkling life, but it is a perception that comes out of the dancing play, the illusion of the world.  remember what budha said, to take for real, that which we know to be illusion, is the thinking of a mad man."

Looked at like this , in the context of meditation and zen , one knows what one needs to know ot make this strange journey. .

Once I had the idea to make a list of all the "things" about myself.  on that list would go, the feeling that I am being watched.  or at least wondering what I would look like if I _were_ being watched.  I feel this as I move through this life.

another thing, is a strange desire Ive had since ... 20 years, to get in touch with all the people that I have met and tell them all, "you meant something to me. i have carried something of you with me through my whole life...".   something like that.

i do have a list of these people.  I hope i do that someday.


14.12.11     good news

Doctor said today that it was not dangerous.  hm. on the one side one has to wonder why he did not tell me this earlier.  on the other side, would i have wanted him to?  the not knowing has brought me closer to knowing in another sense.

19.11.11  Dresden

Ever since I found out that I both do, and don't have a heart condition,

my life has changed in ways that are both good and bad.  Mostly I can say that suddenly -- SUDDENLY -- i am older.  I always want to say "old", but stop myself.  its not exactly that.

But it something.  and it has to do with moving on in life.  something Im not wild about.

I worked today with severly handicapped kids.  The man said he wanted us to hurry up and get the motioncomposer ready because some of the kids were going to die.  that they regulary did.  wow.

we worked with a guy, for example, who could somehow only move his left foot.  so we gave him music to play with it.  he seemed to like this and the man seemed very happy about it as well.


14.11.11  coming back from Cardiff, England

It has taken me an unusually long time to grow up.  Its like its something that I forgot to do it when I was young, so I had to catch up later.  Which I have done now.  just about.

I did not, for example, learn how to live -- responsibly, in this world --until very recently.   It occurred to me that I should wear clothes with no holes in them about a month ago (I bought 1000 euros worth of clothes in Paris on one day).

I never learned or cared to be the things that most of the other kids sought to become.  Things like making money, or having a profession or a family.   I dont know, I never seemed to care about those things.

but then, many things have been out of reach for me.

freedom not. 

anyway, now I feel can do those things - playing catch-up.  I am ready now to do the things that others began in their 20s. Haha! its about time!  well, its me.

and its ok. There is a lot in this lifestyle to admire and be proud of.

Like what?   ... um... give me a minute...

Well, it is, for example, good for art work; appreciating its values when i see it. and also making it. also, I have a lot more childish joy than most.  giggling at the way the sun sparkles between the trees.

yellow leaves fall around me like rain in the wind.

good things are in me because of this.  an extra dose of sympathy or love?  When I have my director's hat on, I can still remember to hug people and remind them that we have hearts, too.

And for teachers of dance it is an excellent thing as well.  I can give people vision.  they treated me like a celebrity in cardiff :) 

and i train myself, with passion and concentration lost on people half my age.  and how many people meditate and do yoga every day?  on their own.  there are some of course.  hmm.   I do not know any.  Id love to meet them!

anyway, these relatively few and simple things, I can do.  even if it took 56 fucking years.  and a sort of heart attack.


7.11.11   Flying to Cardiff, England

funny thing is, ever since the operation..  or whatever it was, I have been sitting zen twice a day, and training every day,

and sewing, and just generally doing many things each day.  getting all kinds of things done.

not "funny", exhausting is the word.  well, sometimes, like yesterday and today, but usually its ok.

here's the thing, Steve Jobs (and many other people) said "Live each day like your last".  But I sort of feel like I was doing that anyway.  There is so little that i would do differently.

Maybe sit zen every day.  and do yoga every single day.  But exactly that is what I am doing now.

and I started aerobics training.  daily.

actually, i have a kind of plan, which i have actually had for many years.   to do 2 trainings, and kinds of training every day.  is the 2-of-7 rule.  i have 7 kinds of training, and each day i do -- or want to do, or plan to do -- 2 of them.

I hope I can remember that this is my life, and the way I want to live it. Standing up, even when I am tired, training.  loving people even when they are not nice.

(those things seem like opposites, but strangely are not.   when I do one, i do the other.)

my heart still beats a little funny sometimes.  I would not say it ever exactly hurts though.

Maybe some kind of electrical disturbance...?


1.11.11  Weimar 

and time did indeed pass. and i am sitting in a hospital room.
my heart arteries were good. lots of flow. thats good. we still do not know why my ST is high, and why my heart beats funny when I train, but at least it is not stuffed arteries. which is good. healthy arteries are good.

so, yey! celebrate.  with zen. and yoga. and friends.

that i did it.  good for me.

do you want to know how it was?

well, it was pretty easy. it took about 6 minutes. after all that stress. haha. I mean I am still in hospital, for overnight. for... just in case I guess.

they wheeled me in to a big clean room. my doctor was not there, someone else. I asked the nurse, "has he done this before?".   he never even smiled, but he did a good job. he knew exactly what he was doing, he was well-trained and experienced. I asked the nurse if he was an "ober" arzt, a full- or senior doctor. "yes", she said. "Fine", i said.

he asked me questions about my life as I lay on the operating table, as a dentist might do. to relax me. nice, if a bit obvious. i played along. happy for the distraction.  um....  i tried to concentrate.  yes, I moved to germany....  hows the wife and kids?

and asked him questions too. a little novocain in the wrist, a little tickle in my arm muscle as it slid it in and ... nothing. I ... kept thinking that I was feeling things in my heart. a strange beat here and there. in my head? or maybe i was feeling the dye? im pretty sensitive. mostly what I felt was just anxious.

"Your heart beat is a little fast" he said. "Well, I'm a little nervous" i said. "I can understand that", he said.

he said towards the end that I would feel hot from my toes to my ears, which i did not. but more interesting, he said before we started that he didnt expect to see anything, and he was right. ok, my doctor was being careful in ordering this test perhaps. fine. now know we know a little more. careful is good.

i will gather the results and send them to my friend of a friend cardiologists. see what they say. maybe i just train a littler lower key, as I have been anyway this week. maybe a mild beta-blocker, whatever that is. more to learn.

no immanent operation. no special risk -- or at least not THAT one. life is still limited though. and still has risks. one less maybe. thats nice.

do i have less fear now? um, sure. more committment to life and love and my work? yes. that was a fucking hard week though.


26.10.11  Weimar 

and now it is tomorrow, the angio i mean. each day, each day, each day moves closer. its so strange even though it is so normal of course. i have felt this before, this not-knowing-what-is-coming. its awful. but in another way, wonderful. I have to say it. its like, every day should be like this: not knowing. feeling openness and love. and on the edge.

even if singed with darkness.  maybe that is how life should be.

theres 2 things i guess: finding out, perhaps what I have. and then theres the test itself. which should be the lesser I know... haha. well, thats me. the little things sometimes matter more than the big things.

so i am looking forward to knowing. it might something pretty easy to fix. or difficult to fix. it might be very important. or not very important. toss a coin. make a wish.

i feel good. that is nice at least. and if I have to live more gently, as I have the last week, well, I am ok with that. it was a good week. focussed even while scattered in another way. I will continue that.

and the yoga, and I want to keep doing that too. I actually did many things that I had been putting off. my taxes, I sewed pants and a bag. I even put a headlight on my bicycle (I built it myself out of LEDs and a tennis ball). and work on the project of course. I did not waste time. I moved with diginity and grace and did what I was supposed to. it made me feel good. kind of proud.

I face my fears. learn from this.

21.10.11  Weimar 

4 days ago, a doctor told me I had an elevated ST. this is code for something with my heart. funny, as in strange, as in dangerous.

the last 4 days have been interesting... and not easy. not at all. in fact scary. the beginning of something. maybe not today, maybe not this year, but we do all die you know. including me. including you. and this obvious fact has been staring in the face, the way the cows stare at you from the side of the road when you walk past.

i taught dance tonight. what a pleasure, what a release. to move, but also the joy to see others moving. i told them how beautiful they looked as they lept and twisted and turned in all directions. and they knew I meant it - and they knew I was right! dance is beautiful. It was a big class. I hope they come back for more.

and in the grocery store, a stranger came up to me to help when she heard how the woman who worked in the store did not have Tahini. we laughed as we discussed directions to the only arabic store in town, "..oh you mean next to the porno store" yes, thats it.

my point is life, _life_ is real these days. i move a little slower and more carefully. I plan my movements more deliberately. I see my fears, and I fight them in the ways that I know -- I sit zen meditation twice a day and do yoga every day now. this does not erase them, but it helps. It reminds me that I am me. and that my fears are my fears. Each thing, a place. I eat meals. I breathe air. I drink water.

i have an angiogram in 3 days. then we will know more...

summer, 2011  Toronto, Montreal

With Larry.  :)


6.4.11  Weimar   on dying

I remember being told that no one knows where we go when we die,

and I didn't believe them.

I thought they just didn't want to tell me.

1.4.11  Weimar   geared up

tomorrow, or later today i mean, we start.

Ha.  one of those moments. We start tomorrow....   exist excites extra. man with a dream.

March went slowly -- it seemed to go on and on.  the days, alone, mosying into the office at 1130, poking till 9 or 10 at night, gettin ready.

not bad.  almost as good as working on a show hey... remember? with helena?  the days before -- the months, the weeks.  best fucking days I ever knew.

wonder where this will lead. 
and who i can be.

30.1.11  Weimar    cruisin

starting to work on the exist thing.  they say


so now the work.  which i am really looking forward to, even if I know the job most probably will explode before my eyes (in size).

switzerland first.  leave on thursday.  coool.

21.1.11  Weimar    wow

could it really all be this simple.  You train, 3 hours one day (including rock climbing, er, wall climbing).

you get up sore, and do it all again. 

and you feel fucking amazing.  like ... everything is possible!

its not just the sport...its the... creating that goes with it, when you do it right. 

when you choreograph.

Wow.  i had almost forgotten this....  wow.

19.1.11  Weimar     ocean dream

I dreamt we were by the sea, in the grassy dunes.  Me and...  I dont know exactly.  someone important to me. and the water was wild and windy and blue, and

we _thought_ that a certain body of water was the ocean but I called to her, shouting to be heard in the wind, "no, that is not the ocean." "How do you know?", she called back. "Because with oceans you can't see the hills at the other side of them!"

the _real_ ocean, you see, was where I was taking her, beyond those grassy hills. 

so I was leading us there.

so, what does it mean dude?

13.1.11  Weimar     checking in with a cold

still cold.  oof.

Dream again:  I went out with Meredith Monk and Björk.  The latter was Really nice and I totally enjoyed talking to her. 

Today i was interviewed for a student film about aging.   actually about being "grown up".  I said it was overrated.

my advice for young people would be, don't bother.


11.1.11  Weimar

Cold.  oof.


I was throwing frisbee back and forth with a monkey.

i wonder what it means?

the frisbees were strange.  The monkey was very normal though. 

Just a typical game of monkey frisbee.

I have enjoyed my chirstmas break VERY much.

but now i am eager to get back to work!


7.1.11  Basel   - visiting helena and her family


we were in a spaceship.  it was a bit flimsy perhaps, but it was roomy and comfortable.  there were about 10 of us, i didnt know everyone yet.  our mission was not so much to go somewhere as to escape something.

the ship was built out of 2 levels - both were round and had "areas", i.e. not really separate rooms. there were 4 control centers_ telemetry, life support, power supply and communication. each had the essentials of all 4 so tht the ship could be controlled by any of them, but the central control for each focus provided additional services. there was an expert on board for each of the four but everyone knew all the basics.

we picked up an alien by mistake.  there was blood and a search underway...

there were twins from Persia.  I accused them, of ... that one of them was an imposter.  and was really the alien. 

there were some nice people on board.  some I trusted.  of course we would never see earth again, but neither I nor anyone else seemed to mind. we were all a bunch of losers.  or winners?

once the ship started to roll.  you could tell mostly by the view -- how the planet under us was moving in circles around the ship.   i closed my eyes till the nausea abated.  i hoped everything was alright with the ship, but i trusted my shipmates.

it occurred to me to wonder why we had gravity and someone told me that it would take another 2 weeks before it was gone completely.


23.12.10 - 6.1.11  Paris   

christmas in paris.  2 weeks of foods and people and wine.  conversation en francais.  other things i shouldnt mention here...

12.12.10   Weimar

my hearing came back  :)  relief.  O, but what does it mean?  what does aging mean?  death?


8.12.10   Weimar

I lost half of the hearing in my right ear the day before the day before yesterday.  how strange. 

doctor said.... well nothing really.  only that i dont have a cold. 

i hope i get my hearing back. the only good thing about it ... is that it makes me realize how fucking wonderful it is to be alive.

I feel inspired. 

Just have a headache non-stop, and a ringing in my ear.  but ok. wtf.

25.11.10   Weimar

i did a half a dance class.

my own, sure, but it counts.  i feel it.  oh yeh.

my studio is a big gym.  linoleum floor with all those colored lines making unaesthetic patterns, and shouts of gym teachers and kids in the other cloth-walled-off section.  I liked it.  Ive had class in stranger places than this...

Doing Cunningham's sixes, on the damp sand, alone one windy day in Denmark.  It was kind of dark in my memory -- dawn or dusk -- a beach on the east coast, i must have been with manu then...

But today I danced, and so have to have that feeling that goes with it.  like an alcoholic that has had a drink -- the feeling that i have to have more.   And all the other things we do -- see how they pale in comparison.

And normal life feels like hangin out -- waiting for the hour tomorrow when I will do it all again.

11.11.10   Weimar

its the Grant.  the big one.  EXIST.

pretty funny name, right?  existential.

no pun intended.

but i just want to take a minute to notice the suspense. to work hard on something, a vision.  not knowing if we are going to win it.

its a little like before the performance, remembe!? the quickening?    how we would marvel at the not knowing, the tension and the faith.

how REAL it felt.  sometimes and night my lover and I would just stop and notice --  just that -- especially helena  or Larry.  or Alex Koziara.   A soul mate. 

it is possible, you see, to see it as something separate from the thing you are making.  like a dream within a dream -- a show within a show.  do you see what i mean?  the working on the thing -- the breaths you take as you do it, all of it becomes like a performance -- heightened.

11.10.10   things!

i think i missed my mothers birthday. oops.

there is always so much to say.  so much that NEEDS to be said.   helena knows what i am talking about:

its THINGS!    things.

all those things of life.  the morning, the way the sun squints off the orange trees, just once, before you get busy with another day and all the leaves fall off.

and tree skypes me, and d. calls.  and i call larry.  and then helena sms's back that I am doing great.

and I smile about that, as I change my shoes in morning, to ones that hurt my feet, but look better for my meeting out in the styx, at the handicapped place. 

to which I carry all this equipment, and it seems strange and remote.  and the handicapped people always make me feel things that i cannot explain.  but the staff likes me and my vision and say they will write me a letter.


9.11.10   clap clap

I taught one of my best classes.  ever.  i dont know if the students noticed... but i think so.  a couple even began to applaud.  which for a university class, is pretty good.  i think.  i dont remember clapping after classes when I was a student.  except of course dance classes.


1.11.10   back in Weimar

now i am prof. again.  i, prof.

started teaching at the university.   its fun and exhausting and .... unsettling, for reasons I cannot see.   im trying to envision what makes a clear and concise course.  what gives a course purpose and vision, that is, what can inspire?  and do i care?

people come up to me afterwards and smile and thank me, and say how they feel inspired.  so i know I am doing something right. still, nothing is self-evident.  and i feel unsatisfied so far. 

i remember taking a course at nyu on post modern dance and Deborah Jowitt was the teacher.  she was brilliant, trully brilliant for the first three or four classes.  then it was a little as if she ran out of steam. or original ideas.  maybe she was "turning the class over to us" more, but it felt more like she ran out of things to say.  or stopped going through the arduous task of preparing her talks.

Both helena and larry told me recently that they admire me for "still doing it".  not giving up, or in.  they meant being an artist and dancing and motion tracking...  and they meant, being independent and doing what I "believe in".  still their comments surprised me. 

I was not aware that I had not given up.


23.10.10   bergamo, italy

"sleep it off" he said, as if it were a hang-over. 

or maybe all things are fine and as they should be.  maybe the story will even have a happy ending.

though i doubt it. you know, the thing about this blog is,,, someone may actually read it!   I just hope I dont get in trouble.

in their ten commandments, the Norwegian bohemians of the 1890s proclaimed, "thou shalt write thy life!".  they meant expose yourself,  turn yourself inside out! 

which has always been my motto.  and I was thinking this morning, at 5:30, on my way to the bus to the plane to the train to the taxi, how my artist's credo has held true.  and fuck, at least I _have_a credo!   a.k.a. shoot the piano player by Trufault.

and Im walking talking to the chill air in a pitch dark of that hour, and it occurred to me that the love thing, that which I believed in most, and for so long, has turned out to be something of a ruse. barely more than a red herring.  Im not talking about myself and my feelings, but of what it has meant to the world. 

When I first felt love in my heart, I thought, having no religion, that it was the essence of art.  I thought it that I would _use_ it somehow, those feelings.

Young actors sometimes say that.  Oh that pain, you can put it to use.

But honestly, now? I don't see it.  the whole thing cost so much more than it ever gave back. other things turned out to be much more important.

21.10.10   bergamo, italy

glorious life...  you think?  you look at the beaches, the sunny skies.  I like these people,,, and this work it keeps me,, what?,  busy? hopeful?  fed?  i dont know how to say this.  it is the middle of the night. and all seems empty and lost.

do i travel too much?  too little?  i have little choice anyway.  i dont plan these things.

there is so much suburbia stretching before me, so much endless mediocrity.   and work.  only work. well, not a happy time I guess.  not anymore. 

16.9.10   back in Weimar

busy day. did zen, yoga, danced in the park, studied french,  called people in canada.  cooked a fish in butter with onions, basel and hazel nuts.

5.9.10    Laredo, Spain  Thoughts on Sound

3 days with pablo by the sea :).

I am on top of a little mountain now overlooking the sea between escalante and laredo. i see a blue ocean sparkling in the sun.  no people.

I was thinking on my way up about sound bubbles, or the chewy kind of particles that Takehisa Kosugi seems favour (a la soundance). They have that biological sound (as pablo's filmmaker friend would say), and yet are not necessarily like something one could identfy as "natural".

I want to wade through such sounds, disturbing them as I go. Waking them up.  exciting them, maybe making them more chaotic. 

Multi-dimensional transformations of particle arrays mapped in some intuitive way to tactile (haptic) and body (kinesthetic) experiences.

In simpler words, ways to make things that could make it fun to move, to move sound, to be sound.

more thoughts on sound - here.

2.9.10   escalante, Spain

4-day workshop with Germàn and Icha.

Great.  Super nice duo:


5.8.10    weimar

choreographed today again in the cemetary.  near the grave of Goethe.

Manu said I should figure out a way to get a grant out of this fact.... 

Ill get a picture next time.

I registered today.  In germany you have to register where you live.  So I am here now.

now I make hamburgers for my roommies.


31.7.10    weimar

woosh. another bunch of days here. 

interesting projects, its just going awfully slow.

i guess it is August in germany.


11.7.10    weimar

i moved in.   Karl-haussknechtstr.

its very nice.  quiet.  and cool.  

2.7.10    weimar

looking for an apartment in hot weimar.  a room actually. start small.  work up.

13.6.10    iceland, into the wild

click here -- pictures of iceland   :) )

6.6.10    paris

2 days here.  back in the land of good food -- really good food  (at the moment i smell a duck browning on the stove.

I drank something called wine today with delph and her friends in the la villette park.   half-drunk, i trained in the grass by the water side, as she and her pic nic birthday party spoke something called french. 

I made this page with my mother in mind.  but today, as I finally got around to inviting her to read it,  well, I expect that the lettering is too small for her eyes.   it is almost too small for mine.

and of course, im doubt her interest.

30.5.10    hohenstadt

I have 4 days to pack up everything I own.  


25.5.10    romainmôtier, switzerland

This place is spectularly beautiful.  I walk around the town at 7, but otherwise I am preparing my talk and dance performance.   I want them to be good.

I am artist-in-residence here.  I have this mansion to myself these days; before the others arrive. 

Its a thousand years old, this house, and perfectly renovated -- as only the swiss might do it.

23.5.10     flof ?

every few minutes another petal falls from the big red flower in the vase under the window.  "plop", they would say, if they could.  they look damp as they fall.  they whisper, and the word comes out "flof".

20.5.10     valladolid, spain

The sun is setting very slowly tonight.  fine.

i can see it, the color of honey, out the window of this prematurely air conditioned train car.  Im heading up from Madrid.  its a good train.  just too cold.   the air outside is PERFECT.   I felt it at the station.

perfect air, warm, off the Spanish plains.  


18.5.10     porto, portugal

Ahhh,  to see the sea at last. 

its been a fucking long time.  I didn't jump in, like I used to -- but then, my hosts were waiting for me back at the restaurant (I ran off after ordering).  To have come back dripping wet would have been ... odd.

The beach in Porto by the Catolica Universitada is clean and the grains of the sand are large and couples moan and grope behind the rocks.

All of Porto is great -- urban and rural both. Relaxed and stressed.  At first it reminded me of New York.  but then I saw that the river side.  It was clean and there were no advertisements.  none.  This is not New York.

A dynamic arts community -- with dance!  How long has it been since I have seen real dance!  Jeepers.  Those girls were good.  I saw some great pique turns with dips and swoops.   I saw a perfect grand plié.

I will propose to work with nubile creatures in the Fall.


11.5.10    weimar, germany

La ville est très vieille et charmante, pas seulement au cause du batiments de 19. et 18. siècle, mais donc c'est un pays oublier -- pour 50 ans la communisme empechent leur commercialism et développement.  cool.  vive la communisme!   Vive Palindrome!

the really strange thing is that I am going to move here. Try a new ,,,, life.    This feels very strange.


26.4.10     Romainmotier, switzerland

I get a couple of days in a paradise.,., a place called Romainmotier,

which is in French Switzerland. I got them to pay my train down here to check out the possible venues for my performance next month.
and once here, well, I managed to charm a couple nights in the medieval hotel (well, it never hurts to ask).

But partly, you know, its just Europe. These things happen here. There are places like this -- impeccably renovated, and dedicated to serving Culture. No signs "please give generously", in fact no ads of any kind. The people here focus on , yes, serving Culture. you know, art, things like that. Jeepers. And its gorgeous.

I happen to know that Migros (grocery store) money is behind it, or at least , are behind the organizers who are renting this place out for the last week of May.

But you still get my point. Even Canada does not see this sort of support for Colloquiua -- about art!  Its called Europe. There are actually quite a lot of things -institutions, events and so on - like this.

And walking in the forest nearby this morning, as the Springtime sun was rising, in the hills, to the music of swiss cow bells, I had to think of you,,,, and all my ami friends, wishing they could be here. You would love this.

Now excuse me, but I think I have to go back outside in the garden and take another nap.

26.4.10     picture this

Three-dimensional forms, like architecture, only in gentle motion, rising, shifting, rolling, in all directions at once.  The colors -- if color is the right word -- are all different shades of white and grey in crystal clear relief against a sky blue sky.  Clouds.

Now zoom back and pan to the front car of a german train.  At th e front of the car is a large bicycle compartment, empty and carpetted, and in it, a crazy middle-aged dancer is holding a yoga pose. 

I don't know what it is called, but i am standing with my legs wide apart, arms open wide and twisted over so that one hand is on the floor and one is pointing straight up.   Breathing five times, I am concentrating that my knee caps are lifted, all the while gazing out from my down-hanging position out the window, AMAZED at these upside clouds.

Meanwhile, all around it is green with springtime and yellow with flowers, all moving at 300 miles per hour.

jesus -- so much complexity!  How can I -- this one little being -- possibly contain all that.

I'm in a good phase. happy about my upcoming move -- my new life -- even though I know I will surely find living conditions far simpler and less beautiful than those I have known.  You would think i would care,,, do I?  Not much, if at all.  Is it penance, or am I simply "above all that"?

Or just naïveté.

Naïve or not, I feel ok in this train, and with this life.


23.4.10     dreams of flight

I dream of flying.  I always have, though less often now.  Less often when im not dancing.

Flying machines, birds, clouds, but especially I dream that I myself can fly just by moving arms up and down in the right way. This is a symbol of course. A metaphor in the truest sense, that is, not in the sense of something we _conceive_ but something that arises in and of itself.  Like an image in a mirror.

It stands for creativty -- my creativity -- which, I have a feeling, has little to do with what it may mean for someone else.  I wouldn't know.

What i do know, is that all my life Ihave felt Something inside me.  At a certain point I can remember, i was around 19, I discovered there might be a word for it that thing.  I remember wondering if I might one day understand it,,,, as a Thing.,,, or Concept but I was skeptical. , I had heard about something called "art", but what had this to do with that?  And can a person be "an artist" without actually making art? It is strange because of course I knew the word, and yet, ,,, I guess I sensed it meant more than the things people were telling me about.

It was in that same year that I decided to try to become one -- still not knowing what it was!  Munch helped me to finally understand, reading biographies of him and looking at his paintings.  Once I went all the way to Washington DC to see the originals.  I flew to Norway for the same reason.  Hey, remember, I hitchhiked to Aasgardstrand (Munch's summer home near the water) like a pilgrim.  There was not much there.

But I was talking about dreams of flying and this idea of a Thing within me.  In my dream, there is never anyone else that can do it (except once Jan Vomacka, or his angel).  It is my special gift.  And if you asked me what it meant, for example, am an artist? well, in a way I would have to say yes, but it is not as if this "thing" has anything to do with anything that I have ever created.   or not directly.

And yet the connection,  on a very deep level , is there.   And the feeling I am calling creativity is special. It does not mean anything you understand -- nothing that you read in a dictionary.


22.4.10      in love with a machine

I dreamt i fell in love with ... a girl but then she turned out to be a remote-controlled helicopter. 


20.4.10      starting a new piece

I have an idea of something.

so i started something new today.  in the garden, after yoga.   a solo, or the beginning of one , ,maybe,,, something I have thinking about a first few gestures, thrusts and pops.  its interactive, or will be....  it has to do with sound.... and power.  its an opening

but you know what is the STRANGEST THING OF ALL??? 

I made maybe 40 seconds of material,

and yet

i feel so good --  Like I DID something.  and i can go to sleep happy.  Just for that.  haha.  do you realize how little sense this makes?

its just a few seconds of movement.  right? - its not even paid work.

but it has nothing to do with work, or play,  or anything
of this world...

and yet

there it is.  I know im not saying this very well, but

it has always been there. you could look through thirty fucking years of diaries, and you will find this again and again,

this being-astounded

and happy by the power this has in me, over me,

a few movements, which i made, for a purpose
(not that it is one i understand)

it is nothing -- or   next  to nothing.  a ghost, a dream. 

and yet

to be in the middle of something like this...   is as strange as life gets.  not the idea of the thing , but the thing itself! 

anyway, I can hardly wait to get to the studio tomorrow.

not that it will be easy.  it won'T!  i know this.  but that is part of it.  the struggle, the unknown.  that something may be at stake!


16.4.10     a sad memory

sleeping under my sleeping bag, reminds me of that place in San Francisco where i lived many years ago, with a budhist friend.  I remember having only a sleeping bag and a slab of foam (though the house was impeccable).  Few thing and yet it seemed like enough!  I was so young, and often confused, but i was beautiful and my heart was in the right place.

I liked it. The simplicity, just a sleeping bag and a matress.    i still feel that way sometimes.  Like its all I need, that and a place to dance.

Anyway, remember that night in berkeley when my family was supposed to pick me up on a street corner to take me to dinner. i was late, and they had not waited?  remember walking back home crying?

14.4.10  Schwäbisch Gmünd

i rode to town today. i participated in society -- or pretended to.

at least i watched it; a set of mores, niceties that actually seem like anything but. but ok, its the way, their way, the people in a town in central germany. i play along, trying not to stand out too much. though i probably do anyway.

i am in a shop now. waiting. around me i see ... more than commerce.   and so much less than warmth or friendliness. its called marketing, it is a sales person, a greeting smile, halogen lights, body language, racks of products, cards and money, people are coming and going. its all correct. but i hate it, all of it, for reasons that i cannot explain.

sometimes these things seem quaint to me, and with the right other person, like delph, i can even enjoy it. if vicariously.

8.4.10 train to regensburg

happy birthday me. hm..better not think about it.

been on the road now for 6 weeks.  cool.   i would do it forever if i could.  before that another bunch of weeks. it makes me think of frey or erich. whom i just wrote.

it occurs to me that the reason I write this is so that when I die there will be something left. some record of my existence. something one or two people will remember. for a while. which is plenty, actually.

pathetic, right?  6,000,000 people have written these exact same words. 


7.4.10 Basque country

my walking ended. and now it is raining.  good timing. 

I met up with pablo in madrid.  stayed at his place in spain.  with muriel too. what nice people.

7.4.10 Basque, somewhere

i dreampt i was with the actress, angelina lily, if that is really her name, and she was showing us, and then me alone, her first tatoo, which she was very proud of.
but it was still on paper, not yet on her skin, on a kind of shiney green paper and i must say, it was not very good art. it was too busy with lots of little figures, but I said i liked it anyway, to support her in her excitement.

but what AMAZED me was ,,, her. to be in her presence. and she had taken her shirt off, to show me exactly where the tatoo was to go, and while i could not see her breasts, I could see freckles on her chest, and the intimacy of what was going on completely derailed me.
the only other thing i remember is saying something to the effect that the tatoo might hurt her acting career.

but the point is that the dream left me, and leaves me, feeling full of love, deep and true. like god. like Her. the same feeling i got from the dark-haired girl whom i passed on the path.

so what is this supposed to be? what is that mystery? what is it for? I like it , but see it more as an addiction, than anything that might be in some way healthy. beauty too rich for use, for earth, too dear.

let it be. it goes by, as itself, like those little flashes i get sometimes while sitting zen.

like that transparent curl in the ocean waves just before they break.

6.4.10   vino tinto

they served me a bottle of vino tinto last night. "no! i said, only a glass!"  its ok,she said, just drink what you want.

it was cold, and i was thirsty.

so i woke up in the night with a big fucking headache.

which i sweated out, climbing the first hill of the day.
as sweeny would say.

6.4.10   somewhere between Mutriku and Markina-Xemein (pronounced "Chemin")

Springtime perfection! Quiet and solitude. I look for, what? a way to hold it. something substantial. something I can take home. IT IS A FANTASTIC DAY, its just another day. either way it ends tonight.

I walk and walk, almost in a trance. thoughts coming and going. samo samo. happy, sad. whatever.

planning my talk for Switzerland next month, speaking it over and over in german as i walk.

When I was the village in southern france with tree, in love, I could not believe my luck, remember? so I sat zen in the park while she walked on, remember? it didn't do much.

we cried together anyway.  and shared our deepest secrets.

But you know, for me to walk this path, with my staff, and "pilgrim pass" (a kind of identity card they give you when you start out), for me to become a "pilgrim" is ... I mean it occurred to me that I was already one. 

I am often on the road, looking for truth and beauty, trying to find value in things.... to make sense out of things. not really being a part of society.... a little dependent on charity, when there is some to be had.... otherwise roughing it. hell, pilgrim is just normal life for me.

I haven't had a conversation with a friend for many weeks. and face-to-face, not for months. not to anyone with whom I can share things really on mind. I mean, I can _tell_ other people these things, but they usually look at me the way a dog looks at you when you've just told it you're thinking about a career change.

I miss you-

I sit Zen overlooking the sea, but I still miss you.


5.4.10  unknown village on the coast of Spain

Dear L, what I would give to share a cold one with you. 

This beauty, and solitude it is both light and heavy.

mostly alone.

4.4.10   6-second lovers

A girl passed me going the other way. She looked in my eyes and smiled and laughed and spoke to me in Spanish (which of course I did not understand). She talked to me as if we were old friends, looking right in my eyes and smiling. She was so cute I almost fell over. short black hair and a good nose. And then she was gone and that was that. still, and, stupidly perhaps, she left me full of hope.

3.4.10  camino de santiago

Jeepers creepers.,, I dont think my legs have EVER been this sore. I can hardly move. Wow! Haha!
Tomorrow I am going to walk on my hands. I need to balance out my body.

Yesterday I rehearsed my piece, high up on a hill side. The sheep watched.

And when I got to the sleeping place, one guy asks "what can I do to help me with .....?" I can't remember, some body thing.
So i started giving him some exercises, and before I knew it I was teaching my class on the patio, way out in the country, and more and more people joined in. The owner lady, her daughters, all the german tourists, till finally I was teaching a big class. it was a bit surreal. but made me feel useful.

2.4.10  Octopus hamburger, San Sebastian, Spain

Dear P, Have you HAD this thing?

WOW. nouvelle cuisine, i.e. a little precious perhaps, but hey, why not? art food. food as art. anyway, its fucking delicious!
it looks completely strange. even the salt on it has strange forms. little crystal pyramids which crunch apart softly as you chew.

I am sitting in the Zeruko restaurant, working on a talk I have to give in Switzerland next month -- somewhere near Lausanne I think -- at a conference called

"The Future of Digital Performance, or The Persistence of the Analogue"

its all in German

I want to do a really good talk, and performance. I think I will show the Chinese piece. Since I am doing it a lot.
But also, as a part of the talk, I want to demonstrate what I think "works" in video interactive mappings.

Might be a time to bring in some SC?  we have a Little bit of time: Its May 28. We could make a really good show+demo.
Do you want me to ask if you can come?
Even if you can't, I would love to work with you on a few simple things. It seems like a good way to start the SuperColider direction....

1.4.10  crowded train. Northern Spain.

I remember teaching once, in Erlangen, 20 years ago, and there was a girl in the class, who wanted to be one of us -- to show us that she could dance, but it was hard for her since it was her first time (and since she wasn't a dancer). frustrated she went to the corner to drink her water in the middle of class and i could see the shyness in her face, as she drank her water. Shy, to be in a class, with others, with her body, and drinking water.
I felt something similar once, eating, in an airplane. Food was being passed out, and we were to eat, in this strange setting -- flying, turning, lifting in a fusiloge of metal -- and we had our food and our drinks and were to consume them.
I did what I was supposed to, stiffly, shy among others.

And now here I am, with my picnic, in this crowded train, not speaking the language and trying to negotiate a place where I can use my knife on my crusty bread and hard salty sheep's milk cheese.

Finally I give up, and look out the window,  Feeling the part; a stranger in a strange land.

30.3.10  valladoid, Spain

walking around the streets of valladolid. they are filled with people of all ages, strolling, talking, kissing, laughing. I mean _filled_. Holidays are coming, and the community socializing. The atmosphere is festive, and a friendly sharing is going on. not something you would see in America. or not normally,

america is more "every man for himself". or, every man for himself and his family, as my sister would say.

Despite the joy and life all around me, I am apart. Its a language thing (I dont speak Spanish). i.e. i feel their warmth extends to me.

And anyway i am down.

I go into a restaurant and sample the wine before ordering dinner. a few big swallows and my mood has completely changed.

24.3.10  madrid

a few minutes ago, coming into this Madrid metro, i discoved that they do not take credit cards and i have no cash at all (oops). I begged the 2 euros 50 from a stranger.  Politely, I asked, "i wonder if you could help me with a problem?"

"If I can", said the beautiful young frenchman with a gotee. "I don't have any euros and they don't take credit cards". I said, in French. "No problem", he said, handing me the coins, and we smiled good bye.

next I asked for directions. people helped me.  I could see it made them happy to do so -- to be part of this world of simple gestures and kindness.

and I am reminded of hitchhiking, which I have taken to doing pretty regularly to get to my studio in the country.  Espeically when it is cold and I have my motion tracking gear.  I climbed down out of the high cab of a HUGE snow plow truck, smiling at the fun of it all, me and backpack and the salt-of-the-earth beauty of a man, to whom no one would dare say so to his face.  He probably broke his company's rules to help me out.

23.3.10   Springfield, MO  les parents

visited my parents last week. good that i had a show on my mind and rehearsed every day. otherwise... the surreality of the visit would have been a bit much. aucun de tendresse. it seems so strange now, vacuus. I mean, I know it is absent in many families, but having experienced the other kind, I am now struck by its absence. and the sense of tragedy that goes along with that.  spock here, captain.

the relationship of spock to capt. kirk is like that of frieder to me. or was.  clever vs. passionate.  See?  it is a competition you know well -- a dielectic, an enigma:  a mother and a father.

and i fantasize discussing it with them, or him, one day.   and recounting the story of the time when skiing and helping my father after he crashed on the ski lift at Les Gets.  i called back over my shoulder, "are you ok?". and he answered "no!". so I skied back to him. i remember untangling his expensive watch band which had somehow gotten caught in his pole staps and the ski lift.

and afterwards, he was quiet, and spooked, which he tried to hide from us kids. his fear though was palpable. there is an irrational in him, in his life -- for him to hide, everyday, in every way, for it is ... what? pathetic? too personal?

anyway, that is one conversation I will probably never.


24.3.10   bus, germany, crack of dawn

I told larry on the phone last night that watching tv conflicts with the artist's credo and he burst out laughing.

my back hurt, hurts this morning. its because you did not eat a good breakfast, because you did not go to the neighbors for your oats, and you did not take the time this morning to roll and cook some into porrage.

live and learn. plan meals. its the one thing a partner, a woman, would do for me. fer sure. meal planing.

1 its going to tighten up today, and cause pain. accept it.

2 body is basically ok. think how minor this is! breathe with it. go slow.

3 maybe take an ibu.

4 carb up when you get a chance.

5 youve got your bouncing balls.


23.3.10   keeping vision

i used to think that i should not vegitate on planes. that my "artist's creed" included rules on the ethics of transatlatic flying. that you live deeply, fully, you interact, you feel, and that you never normalize. That you make plans, you go down lists, you feel things, you write your life. like the bohemians in berlin 1890's: "Thou shalt write thy life".

but now as i try to watch another stupid movie, 6 hours in... and write, and remember what that ... meant. and wonder if it still applies to me. 

and if not that, then what?  what am i then if I do not have artists' principles.

and i think of the love, or loves that I do not have beside me.... and the vague desire and willingness to change all things.

2.2.10  savannah georgia, usa

the plane has landed in fog. and i am foggy too and sleepy.  In the plane I dreampt of a wonderful future world. 
beyond the one i know, where everything is wonderful and new.

1.2.10   that of an artist

my new years resolution is to keep a diary.

of course, i do it anyway -- I have since i was 14.

so it should be an easy resolution to keep.

short entries. that will be my resolution. and somewhat more frequent.

I packed well, I think. I am in the air to Savannah Geo, one of many trippy trips.

I could have left my room and kitchen clearer.,, I could have done the cloning earlier (I actually did the shuttle through the night in the other room. which worked fine, i think, only that I had extra to do in the morning. Lieber the day before. Really important new files can be backed in a variety of ways.)

I want to call Gabi and beg her forgiveness that I disturbed her so early.

* * * * * *

I can not know for sure, but I could imagine that there are a lot of people who once dreamed of something -- a career, an adventure, something other than what they are now doing. Like Tony, my neighbor, who is a screen actor but 99% of his life he does other things. Its not that he is not good, but the level of commitment, the agents and push he would have to put into it is not really there.

He does other nice things of course, and has a family and a house. But neither are they his dream. It must occur to him, and all of them, all those ex-artists or sometimes artists, that their dream has sort of slipped away. Or turned into something else. Not a compromise exactly, but... the years are passing.

So when I doubt myself and doubt what I am doing. Or when I wish I was somewhere else, or more focused, or better managed. Or like him, or her, well, I should remember these other guys. I may have to do a side job sometimes, but basically, I live pretty damn close to my dream. And have done so for a pretty damn long time. I create. I perform. I dance.

hell, how many can say that?

And although I feel like a freak most of the time, and a misfit of society, I really should remember that the fact is actually quite the opposite. It is the many that admire the few, and this life is really nothing more or less than that of an artist.

11.17.09   in the air

"....and entered, by degrees, a new and somber life... probably he should have regretted his decision. He had not. That life had been one without excitement, with no adventure. It had been too safe. All the elements that made it up were right there before his eyes, and nothing new could ever be expected. It was like a little plastic boat, that could sail on without incident, until it finally sank.

But in this dark world where he now dwelt, ugly things and surprising things, and once in a long while a tiny wondrous thing spilled out at him constantly.  He could count on nothing... Not much in this life was truly rational, at least not in the strict sense."
    -- Philip K. Dick (Through a Scanner Darkly)

You know those shiney tall hats you rarely see, except perhaps in movies.  I saw a man in one this morning.  Standing outside the blah blah hotel in Nashville.  It was his job to stand there.  All day. His job was to open the door for people.  Or at least I assume that was his job. Standing there all day.  And at the end of the day, he would go home and feel he had done his work for that day.

Does it matter what they do?  Those with jobs.  It gives them all the same feeling at the end of the day.  the day is done and they are home.  They kiss their wife, or their dog.  They drink a beer and get sleepy for bed.

I had a job once.  By the second year I was taking anti-depressants.  It was either that, or kill myself.  Now I drift, dissatisfied with many things, but alive and clean.  It may be a desolate landscape, but i walk it true to my nature.

11.17.09   nashville

You know what?

I'm happy to be leaving this world of non-stop television screens and advertising. America has become a strange place to me,
I read in the paper this morning that 1 in 6 Americans were hungry at some point in the last year. And yet the people exchange "great's" and "wonderful's", and the staff at this fancy hotel always ask if they can get me anything. I want to say, yes, fairness and socialism.   But I am in capitalist mecca. surrounded by its artifacts and servants.  My words would only confuse.

11.16.09   Nashville, USA

Each meal results in a pile of trash larger than the meal itself.  Plastic boxes, paper cups, lids for the paper cups.  Tiny glass jars for the fruit preserves for my toast...  and so on.

Its breakfast in America.

38% of this population think Sarah Paliln is competent to be president.  Heaven help these guys.  I mean it.

11.15.09  Nashville

my room is filled with stand up cards telling me "We are Proud to Serve you Starbucks Coffee" and "A 250$ Cleaning Fee will be added to your room bill if we find evidence that you have been smoking". Or "Experience the Difference. Membership designed with you in mind".

I call the front desk, to try to get online and am immediately connected to a non-stop stream of advertising. Crass and nonsensical. Television, even worse. So I take a walk among the blaring shop windows and neon offers. I can hardly think. I can hardly feel.  My feet are leaden. I feel like Rimbaud.

But - you know - I am smashed. I performed yesterday, had breakfast with wonderful friends, and took two flights. Zoom zoom. Had a meeting with a corned beef sandwich and the lighting design company guy.  One of those big production types.  He told me he lit the president once.

What he wants is the video stuff frieder does. Figures.  reiterates what i was writing about earlier.  that which sells.  its in demand. its what you can make money with. Its what i do not like.

I'd like to feel ... I don't know, maybe proud. The people who saw me perform were enthusiastic and warm.  its like they were proud of me. why can`t I feel that way about myself?  I always felt like turning around to see who they were really talking to.

10.20.09    Columbus Ohio

The sponsor here, for my show , is called "Fuse Factory".  Such nice people.  I love them all, and it makes me sad how they have to struggle, just to exist.  What an impoverished land.

The teaching and the students were great though. They give me hope!  So much they praised me with the words that are in fashion -- awsome!  And they danced their hearts out.  As dancers do.


10.25.09   Hohenstadt

I'm back.  China -- or Taiwan actually -- was great.  I uplodaded a little video and some photos here.


10.20.09  Taipei

Wonderful. I enjoyed my first performance very much!

Alone, I could concentrate on performing. This is very different from directing, or directing and performing. I rehearsed carefully, as my training has taught me; did my barre backstage while the other performers (all musicians) were taking their turns on the stage.

The technology I used, which was pretty complicated, worked perfectly. I tested it three times, and then left it running. Things I've learned along the way. Now, the next day, I have people coming up to me with ideas for collaboration or touring in Asia.

I'll try to get a video up soon.

There is not much I would change in the piece -- except that I still think its not a "piece". I heard that the variety made it interesting, but I still feel that I would prefer to have only one composer. Obviously it can and must be expanded if I really want to make a show, but it was a strong step in that direction. I think my goal would be to travel with a company of, say, two, picking up dancers and creating additional quasi improvised group sections, new for each place we go. I like using the local language and local references -- as I did last night. I manipulated a sample of Chinese text (specific to this location) with my movements. I also spoke some Chinese in the piece. As flawed as my accent must be, these things endear you to your audience.

Now I 'm backstage on the next afternoon, sitting in a open doorway with a warm summery breeze, looking out on the botanical garden and drinking my Vitalon Salty Sarsaprilla (sic), which, despite its name, is sweet. As I expected. I'm actually performing something different tonight. I'm dancing in a piece by my host. It is romantic, odd and, to me at least, satirical -- good genre for me. Mihow!



I am going to speak a little Chinese in the piece I am presenting.. I just asked the man next to me on the plane if he could understand me as I practiced the lines. He said: "A little hard to understand". Wow- what a fking language. I thought I sounded perfect! Haha.

So, yes, I have 3 gigs on Taiwan this week!  Its a new solo "thing" -- I can't really call it a piece. "7 Memories". Because its really 7 piece-lets. Its an experimetnal music conference WOCMAT. Im also giving the keynote address.

I enjoyed the last 2-3 weeks of creation VERY much. The work with technology presents interesting challenges, as ever. I actually make a point of setting the equipment only every second day. That way it doesn't "take over" what Im doing.

I worked with two excellent composers on this project: Dan Hosken and Pablo Palacio. I draw on borrowed material as well.

I will show a similar piece in Columbus, Ohio on the 14th of November. Students from OSU (an excellent dance school) will be joining that production.

And I've started teaching again! I set up 2 little courses at the local community center and they seem to enjoy it. As do I. I also enjoy having money for groceries. Financially, this year has been a struggle!

Next year, starting in May, I want to try something new. Well, old is new. You can read hier.


Began counting out the 1000 yesterday. m=127.

Setting it to a rhythm will take a while... I am only up to count 24 and it took me an hour!  But ok.  Its a life project.

The HARD PART  now... i mean, what I still worry about is FINDING fucking 400 more fucking gestures.


Couting beats is much more intricate than counting gestures. The reason is simple: every gesture does not take one beat.  Some do, but some do not.  and there are pauses. This is all very important for choreographic reasons, and f it is going to be a duet or larger,, which is my intent, then it is critical.  No cheating!

I added 16 more gestures today. Sometimes I think I have run out.  But,

that cannot be.

Patience, Neo, the answers are coming.



PS.  I showed some people the gestures in Madrid.  fine. see I was rehearsing in the corner and they asked to see it. My rehearsal, is to run through the whole thing of course.

Ok, Never combine showings and rehearsals.  A wizard should know better.  Next time: show people lways only a tiny sample.  never the whole thing.  it was not satisfying.



1. sophisticated and complex timing (work wi metronome, video, and then count it out - probably in 8s, but not necessarily.  it could be meterless with simply arbitrary phrasings.

2. analyse it.  score it.

3. generate a click track with accents to rehearse.

4. teach s.o. else

5. composer synchs up by:
  A. click track (i.e. traditional)
  B. haptic cuer to come out of breaks
  C. haptic cuer to freeze out of chaos
  D. re-synchs by button press















Once in Basel


Directions to Remote Place

Once in Basel, I was walking past of group of maybe 20 people who were hanging out on the Rhine river. There was beer, picnic, kids and dogs -- it was a bit of a hippy scene as I recall. In any case, a thing happened that only I was a party to and now, many years later, I think of it. It was something where someone called out to someone, but the wrong person turns around and in doing so, they knock over a bottle of beer. A third person reaches for it, but in so-doing, dislodge a ball which, in bouncing down the steps, attracts a dog who gives chase and whose leash gets caught on a baby carriage... I really do not remember it now, except that someone ended up in the water. My point here, though, is to say that it was a series of things, so perfectly connected, so choreographed, that to this day I am sad that I did not write it down. Not because I am a good enough writer to do it justice, but just because it seems sad that such a great thing should be lost to eternity. Anyway, this is the background for telling you now about something that happened to me yesterday:

I had just gotten off the subway train in the Neukölln Station in Berlin. A man was talking to himself in Turkish. OK, you see that a lot in big cities, but this guy struck me because he seemed so involved. He had the look people get when they are listening intently. So it was as if part of him was fascinated with what the other part of him was saying.

OK, sad, but no big deal. Only, as I turn my head, I see a man and sense at once that something is not right. First of all, he is huge. He is so big that he can grab onto parts of the tiled ceiling as he walks by, as if to somehow swing on them. Also he is laughing and saying things to ... well, no one in particular. Remember the villain in the movie Highlander? I just googled him. His name is the Kurgan. Well, this guy had both the hair cut (super-short), voice and temperament of the Kurgan. He was only missing the safety pins holding his head on. So he is holding his arms out wide, as if he needs to make himself even larger, and walking directly towards the Muslim beggar woman who is always there and growls, "I'm going to kill you." Not surprisingly, the woman springs to her feet and starts to scream. The Kurgan laughs and bounds off for his next victim. "See what car he gets in," I say to my friend. "Let's avoid that one".

Next, and I swear it could not have been 2 minutes later, we are sitting on the bench waiting for the S-bahn when I am woken from my this-world-is-nuts reverie by a strange request made to me by the woman sitting next to me: "Feel how heavy this book is." OK, yes that certainly is heavy, I say in German and return her book to her. It has yellow post-its sticking out in all directions. Then I see the title: "Psychology". I am trying to think of what to say, but she has already turned away. Just then, another woman walks up and politely asks the first woman if she could ask her a question. "No!" shouts the student of psychology. "You can't just walk up to me and do that! I do not talk to people who talk to me!" (Or words to that effect) My eyebrows, for the third time in 5 minutes, are raised as high as they will go. And, of course, the little old lady is beside herself. "I talk to strangers", I assure her, though secretly I am wondering if she too might be part of the conspiracy. No, though. She is only wanting directions to a remote train station.



Dharma talks

I talk to myself when I meditate sometimes,
like the Zen master used to do, in Schönböcken

and then sometimes I write it down.



I am able to freak myself out over just about anything.

(Today it's my tooth). (Which doesn't even hurt. I can just feel it for some reason.)

all so normal. Normal Life.

So, obviously it's not the thing really, but my lability. My own mind.

And that is something I have learned to control. I have learned how to gain a sense of self, that this me chooses. To sit. To eat. To train. ...
And through this simple act of choosing, I take back a sense of control.

Step by step, I will find my way back.


You know the sound that pebbles make when the waves come and go?
flat ones that kind of flip over and flip over again
That is how I feel

Sitting is deliberate.
It's not random thing
or done on a whim.

This simple truth gives it its puissance:
We choose to do it
We choose to be still
We could wiggle and adjust, but we choose not to
we could grab a beer and watch tv...

this quality of deliberateness
Is reflected in the posture.
We embody calm and resignation
But also strength and courage
and humility,
It may be cool, _I_ may be cool,
but so is everyone else.

So the form reflects, these qualities
but it also reinforces them..
In expressing them, we become them.

This may seem backwards, but a lot of things in life kind of work that way.

(by pretending s.t., it becomes. Like if you act like s.t. doesn't bother you, it won't so much. Or think of the miracle of dance and art and creation. You make these things _as if_ they mattered, and then you know what? They do!

The Dalai Lama said:
Live like you'll never die.
Die like you never lived.

Sit perfectly still.
Of course, we are always in motion,
so when we speak of the perfect stillness of zazen
it is the potential of action
but without the act.
it's the recognition of the potential of all actions
and yet the doing of none

This choice
to non-do, is a confirmation of the true self,
The Buddha Nature.

In Zen,
means leaving thoughts unthought.
Calm means leaving feelings left unfelt

It's us, _before_ the thought happens, before the feeling arises

the sun comes and goes behind clouds
Hope springs eternal!
hang on snoop

I'm in a bit of a quandary
but I believe there is a way out
my shrink, now 25 weeks in,
said she thought she could help me...

and I believe her

look at a random point
back straight
don't move
1,2,3, that is zazen

sometimes you feel like fiddling or scratching an itch,
but you don't. that is the work of zazen.

we can think of those itches
and distractions as representions of
all the things, big and small,
That we take as substantial
and real
each day
like sensations, fears, and other emotions

They are, of course, illusions

In zen we practice being calm
And we get better at it
over time

Pain / pleasure
Doubt and confidence
Sorrow and joy
Fear and toughness

Today, at this moment

These things don't matter.
they are transient, and relative

What's behind them? What is the screen made of
on which they are projected?
Not what is the feeling, but what is the feeler

Invisible, word-less, but so fucking real!

That place is like a dance.
For even if there were words for it,
you wouldn't want to use them.



Here's the thing. I know that value judgements and relativistic thinking is simply misguided,
I can see that,
but still these doubts
still these fears

This is not an answer dharma talk.
Sorry. More Verzweiflung.

Ok here's my best answer:
Sesshin time.


Urgently I seek it
Where is it?
Hiding between my breaths
between my tears

I can hardly wait to sit again this evening.

It is at once desperate and burning,
and the most normal thing in the world.

When the bell rings,
let go. drop what you are doing.
remember, when you took mushrooms on the beach, and realized how you did not actually need thoughts?
It's like that.

Open your hands
This is like your mind
Not giving, but receiving.

You did not need to know then

and you do not need to know now


Arbitrary rule:
After coffee
Before you do ANYTHING
you do 10 minutes of yoga and sit

There is no logic to this
but I like it very much all the same :)

Today after I sat I thought about this:
I let go of rational
and I cried for
The Irrational -- the dance of the OA --
or whatever
That can be truth enough!
For me, for this moment
for this life.
This was a joyous conclusion.

Today walking in the sunny woods
I remembered what a queer notion:
That our purpose is maximum joy
Maximum Euphoria
in her wet pussy, in the bright sun
Under a blue sky,
overlooking the sea.

Haha! That is not it. Add up all that ecstasy and orgasms and you get... what exactly??

We can separate ourselves from
From sensations and thoughts
for indeed, we are certainly not those things.

Sitting is like a journey. It's defined. A start. A certain time. and yet we really have no idea where we are going. If we will ever arrive. 'Moment by moment' is actually wrong. Life does not work like that.
It is a flow. In that flow of the journey, we move towards an unknown destination.

Zazen is not a nap. We are aware - moment by moment . So while we may drift off a bit, and it may feel good (it may be what the mind in that moment needs),

but at the same time, be strong when you practice, as strong as you are. this is who you are, this Buddha.

"I am not what you think I am. You are what you think I am."

walking in the woods
alone, the weather grey as grey
I sensed, as I have many times, the need and possibility
that with enough focus
I could distill out what is truly essential and important in life
and know how to live

With dignity and grace
kindness and bravery and love

And as I walked slowly home, I could feel the answer walking behind me

flash! suddenly a sense of urgency!
at the zen monastery they do not want to waste even a second - time is considered precious. there is none to lose on the path of enlightenment.

And then I could hardly wait to get home to do THINGS!

With the joy and curiosity of a child (forgetting in that moment how much actual work is involved)

But, ok, so back to that sense that I can find something essential along that hushed path.

see, I do indeed have a way there (and for that I am so lucky). It is not to be found in words or ideas, but in silent meditation.

Breath is always changing
heart beat beat beat too.
So much changes around me- is there anything that is not changing? Something behind it, as it were. Behind even my thoughts and my personality. Not an attribute of existence, but existence ITSELF.

I think I know what the Zen master would say. He would hit me with a stick!

But there is something there.
It's not a vacuum.



"Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind".
-George Harrison

It's like those little unexpected emotional impulses. sparks. I e heard then called. They represent something

The fact that they arise, that life is accompanied by innate joys and sorrows
this means more than the impulses themselves.
Do you see what I mean?

The place they come from, their source
- my heart, my soul, whatever - this is what actually matters
and sitting brings me closer to that

So to see _past_ joys and sorrows
to see them as equals
means there is no competition between them
and the striving is gone

to be free of attachment means to walk on the earth with a wink, watching the game, as it plays itself out

to take an action.
You decide to do something , and then do it.
It's so simple. It proves me.

There's moments when I'm kind of gone. Like asleep, but not asleep.
calm and gone. It's nice.

It's not the body
with it's sometimes nagging sensations
that are the problem. not really.
But rather the weight I give it.

This much seems pretty clear

And this dark weight, it comes from inside, from psychology - the old shit, the family and so on - it gets attached.

So I sit to de-attach the self from - all that stuff that seems in its way to want to come out). It's an exercise in freeing the self so it can be just what it is
What it was meant to be. I.e. true to its essential nature.

calm and life-affirmed.

And when you act, go down your list, _in spite of sensations, _as if_ they were irrelevant ( just light dancing on a screen),

well this is also an exercise. it also affirms my Nature, hard as it may sometimes be.


Starting today, I will sit twice each day
if it doesn't make my pains less,
at least it will make them less depressing

Sleepiness in sitting can be nice
you drop away sometimes
and in that sweet darkness, there is a respite, a break from
all the weird annoying shit I'm feeling this year.

Summer is ebbing.

but I can make time stand still!


the very act of sitting
deciding to, and then doing it
is life affirming.
It is mind over matter. It means that I guide my own destiny.

I was tired after yoga3. But I did yoga4 anyway...


different than at the start...
I am more relaxed

wind in trees, perfect temperature
it's ok to float, but _after_ you sit

there are dreams of setting up a show
hmm... funny that that can still support me after all these years

there is also a dream of living again with Helena
just to sit, and train, and maybe create a little thing or two
for our community

dreams are good.


Different than at the start,
at the end of sitting
I can look at one point
easy as pie
and my mind is calm and feels open
and there is a subtle vibration
running through things
It's joy.

for the things
the things that make up my life
the things I want to do

and I know that all those things are
transient and irrelevant

But ahh, what they represent! the fact that me+thing can = joy

is itself the wonder


# ^
Remind me why I sit...

To clear my mind.

To clear away the junk, a bit. the small stuff. the distractions. the illusions.

# •+•
sit well. The way you know to train, or rehearse, with your full mind; mind-fully. With focus and concentration. Mit Leib und Seele...

Everything else is little. Only Life matters. (5th element)

# {••
I can see it so clearly
But I can't break through.

It shouldn't make you depressed
(IT doesn't !!!! confusion does)
It could be your ....
it's not the sensation, but your attachment to it
All that you attach to it.

I don't even know WHAT I'm feeling sometimes, it's all so minor and diffuse.
I'm thinking "oh, it's your teeth!"
but it was confused with my ball,
Which is the center these days,
Since its new. It was lungs for months...
Eye before that. etc. see my point?!

How do I break through. I want my shrink!!

# •£•
I've lost my toughness. I will get it back. With a little help from friends and professionals. There's a path. back to me, back home.

I want to be happy again.

Main thing to remember: you think it's your body. it's not. Body is fine. Those are normal things. Teeth are great. So are my knees. And my back is strong and incredibly flexible - I'm actually super fit! I've been training hard and well. It's something I know how to do; a good mix of my own 'classes' and those of others. Even a little choreography, what is good for my whole being!

So it is only your mind. You worry way too much, especially since your dad died. Zen teaches that you can gain control over your mind. By sitting.

Like tonight. I didn't feel like it. I wasn't even sure that I could do it. But I did it, and, almost surprisingly, I can become calm.

This calm mind is the way of zen. It is valued above all else.

Retreat sounds good.

You practice disconnecting yourself from ... well there is a lot - I almost said 'these days', but you know what? it's always been 'these days'. Fear is nearby and possible. That loss of self to stuff - things possessions desires people sensations of the body, sadness itself. What happens if ... ? What will I do without ...?

So I practice having it, without being it. Without it consuming you. disconnect from it. I can do this. what remains is warm and quiet and smiling.

all those autistic records you keep... burn them up! Burn everything!

See how you mistaken your hunger, or stomach for your ball. See how connected it all is? It's a big fat pattern my friend. My bro has it s little bit. But me worse.
After I talked to him, I felt worse. afraid. And competitive during the call. my body's better.

See these patterns! See the original source of my fear, as the psychoanalysis would say.

The reason it takes me so long to count ten breaths is that I am not focussed, present. Rather, I am planning, remembering, worrying, attaching... all that thinking I don't need it!
Let it go.

Take yourself out of the equation,
or, better, make yourself the only thing in the equation:

Self = ?

It's part mystery, and part the only thing I really DO know.

#98 some easy difficult times

my life
up to now has been pretty good
Ive done it pretty good.
learned how to come clear with my
world, my body, my heart...

ive stressed the system, gone out dancing till dawn
taken some drugs and woken up smashed
good so.
Ive take some trips, that is also stress.

Ive also learned how to find calm within
so that I can go through life, without being too much of a
scaredy cat. training hard helps with that,

and of course sitting. practicing
to feel things without having to be them
without losing yourself to them

its something you can practice
you practice detaching yourself
(from so many things)
arriving at what is essential, real, calm, and beautiful

This morning I thought about
a notion planted in my mind, as a teenager - my formative years.
A teacher said. Alternate active and rest.
TM. engage fully , then disengage.
Its a really good way to live. Balanced.

Both full and empty
Cognitive and vague, floaty and irrational

This eve:
How confident and so fully fucking good we felt, coming home from rock climbing! With scratches, and magnesium on our hands.
And then you could camp in a weird place without fear - or r do fucking anything

And sitting on the floor leaning against the wall resting from some training thing... Has that too

How dance (sport , whatever) is a metaphor for life. It's more than a metaphor, it embodies it, it contains it.

We _are_ our bodies.

You can use them to fight! and I don't mean each other...

Helena baby and tears and nuts
metaphors like circles and cycles s s breath - are powerful because they embody mind. They are abstract and real at the same time.
And the intangibles of existence
Like the still point
Reveals a way of calm
where fear and doubt resolve
In peace

If were to lose all these notes,
like rainman's notebooks,
it would be ok.

nothing essential is lost.

I think i get it: practice sadness, so you can feel it without being it. And so with all those perception things. Practice climbing under it. Practice sitting. Work at it.

Next phase for me: practicing early.

Wow. wouldn't that be something?

I heard today, zen monks wake up at 3:45!!!

Why punish myself (get up early) ? Like the movie says, it's what you are! Your undoing is your doing too. Having shit to deal with, defines us, lets -- nay forces -- us to define ourselves. Like the thing about practice. It may crash us down for awhile, but it's also our "doing". It gives something hard as nuts to crack, with sweet meat.

# 22
Hard times
Your mood, and sensations
Like your dry nose, stiff neck, acne...
fuck Robert, get real. These are not the problem. None of it.

Don't be stupid. You know it's perception. You know it changes, all by itself.
But you can also put it in its place. You just did. -_You did that_. You have some power over these things.

Sit twice a day, not once.
And do it early - don't fuck up your mornings....

Find peace within.
Find calm within.
There is a Stillpoint
at the center of things and it is waiting for you. (it may surprise you: joy!)

How? You know how!
sit twice a day. It lets you detach yourself from sooo much baggage that you don't need. So much pondering, sensations, fears
you can let it go
Let it go robert.


By sitting perfectly still
and doing absolutely nothing,
you can accomplish everything.

Not logic, but truth!

Sit perfectly still.

What a great use of spend 22 minutes!

Culturing the ability to see what is true, as opposed to that what is illusion – those psychological game things - this is something valuable. It's the reason we sit twice a day.

The fray

Imagine being able to separate real from illusion, substantial from insubstantial. No duality. How free I would feel. How light.

To be able to separate the thing from my evaluation ... valuations of the thing. All those doubts and fears, those endless scenarios, would be de-fused. rendered impotent.

To know what is truly essential- of essence- das wesentliche... my self... is unchanged. rides along above the fray.


Ist das nicht der Hammer? A moment can hold joy and promise. I have a presentation today! I need to pack!
Spring is here!
and I mean the same fucking moment can be a total drag. The same conditions, the same hand of cards...
We know this, don't we? We know what is real and what is illusion, and yet we mix them up every day. Day after day.

My coffee is wearing off.
I sit zen.

Bro is here.

Imagine being able to experience physical reality
separate from any evaluation, judgement, or comment.

the body, the sensations good ones, pain too, all that as
Separate from interpretation, comments
scenarios, fears, shadows and coloration.

Just the thing. The physical life thing itself.

My lungs feel a little tight.

This is the promise of Zen.

First day of spring. feeling. Of childhood.... powerful and made of, what? Magic? Heaven? God?
And then it's gone. but to have touched those forces , the fact that they are! In this or any life,
offers a reason
Of sorts
un raison d'être. and a reason to sit still
to perceive It.

Take control of my self.
Practice zazen.

Collapse duality, multiplicity.

Sometimes I am confused in the morning, after my coffee, as to whether I am happy or sad, coming or going, losing or acquiring, living or dying.

These waves, or cycles, accompanying us - we must separate ourselves from them. They are illusions. They are real perhaps, in that we feel them, but see how they are not substantial. Or essential to us.

Rausklippen. I want a zen master to tell me this. To beat it out of me! To beat some sense into me.
I want to have my dick inside her. Now THAT is something real.

Zen, what has always been for me the closest thing to a guiding principle - a guiding light in this life, teaches
Bravery. To face life head on. To look it in the eyes. And this fit very well with the artists' credo from my youth which said get up early and run to the beach watch the sunrise! Jump into the water even if it's cold as hell! get mixed up in every passion, see every beauty, feel every heartbreak. All of it. Feel all of it. Embrace all of it. Like the good Zen bonfire that is supposed to burn brightly, and with nothing left over.

It's easy to find things to freak out about. Fuck, anything can be anything in the world of fears. So, one can concentrate, instead, and slough off so many illusions and distractions, for a time at least. And in so doing, strengthen the base - the guy who is underneath it all, smiling.

I tried to think about incomprehensible things - death - and I felt fear. Then after I sat, i had this momentary sense that ALL was ok.

So, like I said below, these little things, moments of ease and joy and calm, can mean a lot.

Can we culture such a mind, with practice.? Well, that is certainly the idea.

To have a method, a way (a path)
and to do it twice a day, makes a difference. I become a little calmer. I've seen it. I belong in a little bit more myself and I have a little more control of my mind/body/self.

A little; but you know, with these kinds of things, a little, can actually make a big difference.

Discipline. We decide to sit, and we sit. This is how we take control of our lives. One decision at a time.

Sitting is a little scary at first. Facing oneself, existence, head on. It can be a little intimidating.

but after a bit, it's actually more calming and reassuring than anything else. What's essential - our essence - is actually calm and rides Independently of so much whirling around it.
I'm hungry.

Simplify, simplify, simplify.

I do train a lot. But that is mostly out of existential philosophy/fear reasons. Life has always scared me. But I noticed as a teenager that I could run -- from it? to it? It is both I suppose. But it helps balance me. It's half the reason I became a dancer: the daily grind of it is something that I could embrace on that good-for-me level. It's like 'no regrets' because I am stretching it, doing it fully (my life) exploring it. expanding it. becoming. so even if I am not really well-integrated into society or much of a 'success' (by most standards) I can feel good.

focus and sit as well as we can. , it applies to life: by doing it here, it reinforces it there. Doing nothing well, is doing something well. That's why it's called practice. By practicing focussing, and by doing it as well as you can, you build the _ability_ to focus and so are able to do life as well as possible.

By sitting, we slough off - shake ourselves free from - all kinds of sticky, tangley, confusing mental (and probably also physical/physiological) stuff.

Stuff we may think we need, but we don't.

It's not a mental process. More the opposite. It comes through a stillness-posture (called zazen). It happens. We only need to allow it.

The doing of that, taking this action, is by itself confirming. for it is a taking of control.

Breath: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

All these perceptions of self- in joy and fear and excitement and love
depression and so many more - all 140 of my moods melt into obscurity and irrelevance and ... wind.
What remains then , in the moments when IT happens, there between the seconds, within the tears,

That is hard to put into words.

Don't need to have anything to say.
Or do.
Just to sit here. its enough.

That simplicity is really an art!

Typically I do diddly things in the morning and feel frustrated coming to work. Late. And ineffectual.

It's possible to go through a whole life like that! catch as catch can. It happens all the time!

But it's also possible to live differently. stronger, with clarity, and calm inside.

and kind to people. Not fleeting but kind of solid.

This seems worth pursuing. So I vow to redouble my efforts - practice in the morning. For example, 9 to 10. it wouldn't kill me.

I like the wind. I always have, always will I love it how it pushes you. It controls you. forces you. To give in, to let go.

I feel like most of my life has been a chase, a game of catch-up. To train enough before the sun goes down. To sit, and again. But sitting now, also, like the girl in the movie day in the life, one has arrived. I succeed.

Only sit. Back straight. And focus on something so close to nothing that it might as well disappear.

I sit zazen twice a day. I do it by holding very still for an allotted time. I notice the patterns and behaviors that make up "me", my days and it's cycles. And in that noticing there comes very often a feeling of letting go. A relinquishing of a lot of things that are taken for granted, and, instead, and a perception arises, subtle though it may be, of a self that is free and unchanging.

Think of small children and how little things are enough to make them happy. :-) A smile, hugs and kisses, colors, sunshine. a pigeon. Curious, and open -hearted. As we teach them so much complexity, let's learn simplicity from them.


I choose.
Beginning with this simple act of sitting (zazen).

Focusing as well as I can
onto this exact nothing,
and in so acting, I choose to act,

based upon all that I know
and feel, and can surmise,

and so I define myself..

Not just to society, but to me. I become self-defined, i.e. fixed at this time and this place.

This is the definition of me -- of my existence (yes, the same one that I can so easily fear..).

So THIS is what it is. (the purpose of life). strong action.

Act with enormous strength and courage, and existence will have its meaning.


It is possible to see all things as

perfectly OK and as they should be.

You sit and it happens. _it_ happens, you don't have to _do_ it. .

required is only the gentlest possible gesture (with no hand)
the guiding of the mind in meditation. The mind _wants_ to be free.
the ring, frodo, it wants to be found.

and to free our perception of coloration or flavoring, that almost-invisible transformation
It seems, all by itself to go towards become nothing other than ITSELF. wow.

This or that reality, all that you think you may have, IT IS NOT THE TRUTH.
and that is sooooo hard to remember.


this is why I like body work so much -- it is such a great metaphor, so great in fact that it becomes the thing itself. training, hard, furiously, and as if it accomplished anything at all ! See? And yet it really does have value. It shouldn't but it does.

it shouldn't because it does not directly help anyone.

So I do my movements in public and carefully, as only a dancer can, with dignity and grace and it is not uncommon that someone comes to me after and says that they found my movements inspiring. Or indeed, I see others stretching, inspired by the sensibleness of my example.

But even if no one were there to see me, like a tree falling in the forest, we budhists believe that our actions mean something to this universe. It matters how we live. how we train, even how we eat and drink. how we deal with our fellow creatures...

This matters and not my temporary perceptions and opinions.


to sit is something very very special, and yet its purpose is make one so completely ordinary -- just an ordinary guy. Nothing more nothing less.

so I look around me in this airport waiting room, and I see people Wasting time.
See how special I am! Now I can stand up and board the plane
exactly like everyone else.

I feel exactly like the little white duck in the song. Doing exactly what I oughta.

dharma talk #114

sitting is abstract. beforehand, before you actually do it, or are doing it,
it is awkward, irrelevent... but to do it then anyway finally afirms our sense of our life being ours, our confidence, our sense of command

dharma talk #202

astounding! how we are tricked into thinking that things are a certain way. a cup of coffee and all is upended! the world smiles again, just like that. what a little boat, what a big sea! beneath there is a deeper truth...

dharma talk #306

the woman in the song, with the tiny little sparks, i think she meant sparks of joy. we live on the edge between joy and sorrow, between all the world's beauty and pain... love and fear. turn around! zen teaches to step back, to retreat within, to come home and see all these sparks things from a step away. like a dance, a play, a movie. a true experience is one at the still point - the simplest and most true thing of all.

dharma talk #37

sitting serves as a reminder. that we choose how to live, what to do with this life's energy and time.

as opposed to it pulling and pushing , adrift, whims of others, of marketing executives... concious choices

Dharma talk #47

sometimes we expect a lotus, and get rocks. expect hope, desire sometimse we get neither.

Dharma Talk # 45
I choose. Beginning with this simple act of reducing and focusing
onto this next to nothing,
and in acting, in chosing to do, based upon all that I know
and feel, and can surmise, I define my self.

not just to society, but to myself. And this self definition
is a kind of meaning of here and now, of the existence that I otherwise
can fear.

Act with emense strenth and courage, and existencew ill find its meaning.


a fly in the oinment. a pimple. a floater. a bug, bugging you.
this one's easy:
there is no fly -- there is not even ointment.
neither pain nor pleasure are substantial.
there is a deeper truth. a deeper reality. a stronger
person within me.

A deeper truth, a clearer sense of self, a stronger way forward.


Spring -  oh!  no Summer.  Changes changes changes !!!



at my parents last house, dividing up their stuff:

haha!  I like this picture!   Its exactly how I feel.


dharma talk # 45

I choose.
Beginning with this simple act of sitting (zazen).

Focusing as well as I can
onto this exact nothing,
and in so acting, I choose to act,

based upon all that I know
and feel, and can surmise,

and so I define myself..

Not just to society, but to me.  I become self-defined, i.e. fixed at this time and this place. 

This is the definition of me -- of my existence (yes, the same one that I can so easily fear..).


So THIS is what it is.  (the purpose of life).  strong action.

Act with enormous strength and courage, and existence will have its meaning.




2 days off in Oslo::::::


I recognize that sweater.  I lost it by leaving it in the Frankfurt airport.  Shhh.... I think it was a gift.


"You have been telling the people that this is the eleventh hour, now you must go back and tell the people that this is the hour. And there are things to be considered:

Where are you living?
What are you doing?
What are your relationships?
Are you in the right relation?
Where is your water?
Know your garden.
It is time to speak your Truth.
Create your community.
Be good to each other.
And do not look outside yourself for the leader."

Then he clasped his hands together, smiled, and said,

"This could be a good time!

There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are torn apart and will suffer greatly.

Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above water. And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate. At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves. For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to an end.

The time for the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves! Banish the word struggle from you attitude and your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

We are the ones we have been waiting for."

-- attributed to an unnamed Hopi elder
Hopi Nation




d.t. 3

It is possible to see all things as

perfectly OK and they should be. 

You sit and it happens.  _it_ happens, you don't have to _do_ it. . 

required is only with the gentlest possible gesture (with no hand)
the guiding of the mind in meditation.  The mind _wants_ to be free.
the ring, frodo, it wants to be found.

and to free our perception of coloration or flavoring, that almost-invisible transformation
It seems, all by itself to go towards become nothing other than ITSELF. wow.

This or that reality, all that you think you may have, IT IS NOT THE TRUTH. 
and that is sooooo hard to remember.



this is why I like body work so much -- it is such a great metaphor, so great in fact that it becomes the thing itself.  training, hard, furiously, and as if it accomplished anything at all !  See?  And yet it really does have value.  It shouldn't but it does. 

it shouldn't because it does not directly help anyone.

So I do my movements in public and carefully, as only a dancer can, with dignity and grace and it is not uncommon that someone comes to me after and says that they found my movements inspiring.  Or indeed, I see others stretching, inspired by the sensibleness of my example.

But even if no one were there to see me,  like a tree falling in the forest, we budhists believe that our actions mean something to this universe.  It matters how we live.  how we train, even how we eat and drink.  how we deal with our fellow creatures...

This matters and not my temporary perceptions and opinions.



d.t. #98

to sit is something very very special, and yet its purpose is make one so completely ordinary -- just an ordinary guy.  Nothing more nothing less.

so I look around me in this airport waiting room, and I see people Wasting time. 
See how special I am!  Now I can stand up and board the plane
exactly like everyone else.  

I feel exactly like the little white duck in the song.  Doing exactly what I oughta.



dharma talk #114

sitting is abstract. beforehand, before you actually do it, or are doing it,
it is awkward, irrelevent... but to do it then anyway finally afirms our sense of our life being ours, our confidence, our sense of command


dharma talk #202

astounding! how we are tricked into thinking that things are a certain way. a cup of coffee and all is upended! the world smiles again, just like that.  what a little boat, what a big sea! beneath there is a deeper truth...



dharma talk #306

the woman in the song, with the tiny little sparks, i think she meant sparks of joy. we live on the edge between joy and sorrow, between all the world's beauty and pain... love and fear.  turn around! zen teaches to step back, to retreat within, to come home and see all these sparks things from a step away. like a dance, a play, a movie. a true experience is one at the still point - the simplest and most true thing of all.


dharma talk #37

sitting serves as a reminder.  that we choose how to live, what to do with this life's energy and time.

as opposed to it pulling and pushing , adrift, whims of others, of marketing executives...   concious choices


Dharma talk #47

sometimes we expect a lotus, and get rocks.

expect hope, desire joy, sometimes we get neither.









i kind of look pathetic.  oh well.  i know Im not.

Also old.  thats my face.  its still me...


this ones better.   less detail:


Mark Twain — 'The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.'



By the way, what does a decent chap talk about with the greatest possible pleasure?
Answer: Himself.
— Dostoevsky, Notes From The Underground







Wild and beautiful Iceland


Grass growing underwater.




Stones so shiney they reflect the sky:



Look at this advertisement in the window of a fitness studio near
the madrid central train station (its actually in the same
building).  the layers of irony...  everyone exercising together,
lined up like robots, and then text, which tells people

they are free to choose.  great, no?  Its in English -- bad an mispelled
English.  Be like the Americans!  Be like everyone else!  Be free!!!


Los Plaza . public squares are great in spain...


where I stayed in Valladolid.

It takes me 6 minutes to get a beautiful home to look like this.

Where we ate



Who served us:

what we ate (I dont eat pig).  The ice cream looking thing is

potatoe octopus salad..





Restaurant.  looks like a private home in Maine somewhere...


I think I took this same picture last time I was in Trondheim...   store window with nothing but ...  key holes?

Good Graffitti in Trondheim.  Sign of a good city...




axel tidemann

held the Norwegian holding still competition.  measured with motion tacking.

actually an excellent talk on the subject...


long shadows...  magical light.

the green glass building, an old pump house, is where the first day of sessions was.

the buildings you see on the left are where we once...., remember?

nice hotel.   thats the breakfast room.





this is where i learned the parts of the face.  in French.


nice graffitti...

alexander.  one of the other presenters.  not-moving piece.






CeBit.  worlds biggest trade fair.,., or something like that.  oof. 

the whole thing sucked a pretty big one (as Trish would say).

not to mention, making me quite crazy. 









hotel room in Montreal




mark heffernan.   cool guy.

first thing he said to me when we met was, "so what do you think of the
contemporary german philosophers?"    uhhhhh.......




outside the yoga studio. 




I walked up _the_ mont real, with eric lewis.  another philosopher.


near Cardiff, England

Showing off my new hat.  (and pants)  (i made them)

Alexandros ... no one can say his last name (can you?):



side street, bergamo, italy

so much depends on a forgotten volleyball
that rolled to a stop beside a scooter in the sun



the bergamo 7


lisa came for a visit.  here she is upside down. 

i helped her make her website.



near Laredo, Spain

morning yoga by the sea

Pablos Mother.  perfect hostess.

13Dias.  Germàn and Icha:





Yes, thats my laptop.    don't laugh.
I love working.






ICELAND we love you:




farm in Iceland.   Hitchhiking was easy... that is, whenever a car would finally come.

there is more from iceland here.



Switzerland.  Romainmotier in the morning.

in the morning i took walks


from backyard of L'Arc

L'Arc - behind the trees



In Spain,

I walked on the Camino de Santiago.

4 days along the sea. 

Sound romantic?    it was. i guess.

nap time




on the train in Taiwan


They say its where the heart is.  Well, I carry mine with me. 

The road feels like my home these days and my heart feels safe.

It has been a time of travel.  I can hardly keep track.  I find myself in strange cultures and,
though not my own,
I can sense their richness and subtlety
and how they connect the people to one another and to the land. 

I do not feel Fränkisch or Schwäbisch; also not American.  I suppose I do not have a culture.  Instead I have generic hotel rooms, train cars...  When I step outside there are strange and delicious foods and different ways to cross the street and ask the time.


Hohenstadt.  Backyard.  this is the spot under the tree where

I sit zen in the mornings.  Alpaca sweater.

Saying good bye to Hohenstadt.  Three years. ..

were they wasted?  were any?

were any not?



Springfield, MO.  Premiere of "Flower.Wine.Moon.Me".




This is how I feel most of the time:

on a train near Tainan. on the Island of Taiwan. on tour.


Magic trick:


j'existe plus. 


Ohio Show.  "7 strange dreams" and untitled group work (OSU students).  Photos by Debbie Rosenfeld -- thank you!








dont think ive given up or something.  not a bit.  i just need to do a show in budapest.  and this... doesnt fit.

but one quick comment:
ive started doing it wi a completely irregular rhythm, so its like thinking or talking.  in spurts like content flow, or hovering sometimes in suspension, like planing the next thing to say.

not long pauses you understand, but enough to make following a pulse impossible.

and i wonder if that should  or needs to be fixed. ....  even if it is a duet.


what a weird , full, scary
merce died.
and i ... dive into my art, with renewed focus and commitment.



565.  not much further, i know.  OK, tomorrow. 

I discovered something about dancing today.  i know its not rocket science, but its real.  and it is also really important.

It makes a difference how you do it. 

Maybe it matters _what_ you do, but _how_ you do it matters too!   i just spent a couple of days _really_ concentrating on my dancing, doing each thing with the highest level of control and concentration I could find.   Also, trying to relax, so it looks effortless.  like it just happens.

and suddenly i was sore!   i mean i feel my body, and i feel the intensity of what I do and

feel excited about it.  I'm doing the exact same movements I did before, just now I am trying to be FULLY there when i do them.

I am also reahearsing Virus Dance these days for my show in Budapest next week.   so i am only doing 1000 gestures once a day or so.

btw. I am also making progress on the class piece for 8 or 16 dancers.  I need 4 x 4 x 8.  not a lot i know -- but i want it to be VERY cool.   so they fit together well. and,,,  are completely fun to watch.  every second.

novel idea.

i have 3.  i think.   i made the 3rd today... i think.  Im so curious how it will read.  hardly wait for studio tomorrow!


560.  i spent a few days at 540, to let it settle in.  now its time to more forward again.

it only takes 9 minutes now.   i can do it faster, or slower, like you want. 

i think the mix is the best.  no rhythm. i stopped counting out loud.  or at all i guess.  it just kind of flows.  i mean, i _can_ count it, but i dont need to.

i also think the gestures should sometimes be almost understated and sometimes almost overstated.

im still imagining a conversation going on between two people.  the conversation is sometimes in unison -like the movts-,  sometimes abstract (non-literal, like just words, or poetry) and sometimes literal like a real conversation.

parts maybe so loose that it can involve audience.  a bit of straight man , like i do sometimes.

also, music s.t. very weird.  rhythmic maybe, but bulding VERY slowly.

and something interactive.



i have to admit, it is slowing down a little, but I am up 540.

The difficulty is not in finding new gestures -- at least not so far. Rather it is simply running it enough that it goes without black-outs. Every run through takes 15 minutes. so it takes patience.

so what? i am thinking about perfromance situations of course. text i think is good (also, it helps). and a partner. so sometimes we are conversing and sometimes speaking in unison -- but always moving in unison. 

music that sloooowly builds.  visuals the same.



we probably spend more time expressing than doing. or some of us. i could imagine... speaking in tongues during this thing.  part of the time.  see, i want to say, "look at us", this is what we do!  express.  we push air out of ourselves, form it into vibrations which contain the code.  language. like hacking. like sitting at terminals.

vocabulary.  syntax.  prosody.  synesthesia.

human being.


420.  Now listen: i want to think about raison d'etre. ou bien, raison à faire.  ou bien encore...
maybe , better, i _don't_ want to think about the reason.  because if i do... i get nowhere.  i just spent 5 min sitting here with my mouth open. better is i just to keep going.

i will say though, i like being here on sunday morning, and knowing that this is neither my pasttime, nor my profession, but my passion.  and that there is not a soul around me that can make the slightest sense out what I am doing.

even i explained it.

which i can't.



back to work. 

see the 1000 log.  it inserts above this date


today i began my day with choreography.  in the garden. no reason.

or is that reason enough?

i woke up with the idea in my head to make 1000 gestures for the upper body, and 1000 for the lower.

Then to ... well im not that far yet, but obviously combining them in some way would seem ... logical.

i came up with 28 upper, and 32 lower.


what is interesting, and really quite tricky in this, is discerning WHAT A GESTURE IS.  when, for example does it become a movement?   some ambiguity is good. keeps it alive.  but then i have to ask

what are the rules?  what defines the dance?  something has to.

a gesture _means_ something. its like you speak a word, you say, "coffee". your energy takes this form for a moment.  you send something out from yourself.   whether you end up drinking , is not the point.  maybe the phone rings and you never get back to drinking anything at all. 

The act itself. The fact of human action is what this is about.  not was is being done, or accomplished, but its expression.  not the time, but the record of the time. like laurie anderson says there is the time, and there is the record of the time.   there is the thing or action -- in this case "coffee" -- and the expression of the thing -- pushing air out of yourself and shaping it with your mouth so that it sounds like a word: "coffee".  

pure, without value or judgement.  without accomplishment. 









11.16.09   nashville

USA=Verpackung ohne Ende.  Eine Haufen liegt aufm Tisch nach jede Malzeit.

11.15.09   ohio

Super Show.  nette leute.  Habe ich aber die Leute wirklich inspiriert, oder ist es nur die Amerikaner-art enthusiastisch vor zu kommen?


10.25.09  Hohenstadt

Taiwan Reise super!   Bilder und Video hier


10.20.09 Taipei

Show ist sehr gut gelaufen. Ahhh -- Erleichterung. Auch das der Technik prima funktioniert hat.

Es war eine echte Vergnügung für mich "nur" Performer zu sein -- nur auf diesen Aufgabe zu Konzentrien, ohne Regisseur zu sein. Nach drei technische Durchlaufe, Rechnersystem an lassen, und tanzen! Ballett und modern Training, Kostüme, letzte warm-up mit Sprünge.. ab ins Licht.

Jetzt, am nächsten Tag, mehrmals Gespräche mit Professoren usw. über mögliche weitere Jobs in Asien. Also, meine konzentrierte Vorbereitung -- auch in die 2 1/2 Woche vor der Show in Deutschland -- scheint sich gelohnt zu haben.

Noch ein Show heute Abend hier, und dann ein Show irgendwo an der Küste.... dann 2 Tage frei!

PS. s.Englisch oben für andere Details..



Ich weiss eigentlich nicht ob man Taiwan "China" nennen darf. Keine Ahnung! Auf jeden Fall, landen wir in 2 Stunden.
Oof, lange Flug! der Job ist bei einen experimentellen Musikfestival (WOCMAT) wo ich eingeladen bin zu tanzen mit interaktive Musik, und Vortrag zu halten. Mein erste Solokonzert ... na ja 14 Min. Stk. Sowie erstes "Keynote Address" (Grundsatzreferat).

Das Stk. war nicht ganz allein gemacht. Zwei Komponisten haben mir geholfen. Und Freunde haben mein video clips angesehen und Kommentare gegeben. Aber, ja, bin ich allein auf der Bühne -- d.h. ich und meine Rechner. A man, a machine.

Die letzte zwei und halb Wochen waren gut. Proben, Kreieren!!! Mein Arbeitssystem war ein Tag mit Technologie, ein Tag ohne. Denn man kann nicht wirklich beide Hut gleichzeitig an haben. Und die Abwechselung gefällt mir.
Insgesamt aber, arbeite ich, und fliege ich, gerner mit andere Künstler.

Ich unterrichte wieder! Ich habe zwei kleine Kurse in eine Gemeindehalle organisiert. Die Leute scheinen es zu genießen. (Ich auch). Und ich habe endlich bisschen Geld für Lebensmittel. Ja, es war eine schwierige Jahr finanzielle. So viele Absagen! Kein Preise o. Zuschüsse : (.

Ich habe auch ein Auftritt in Ohio in November (diese Mal mit 3 Studenten), und Workshops bei zwei Unis.

In Frühjahr habe ich vor in einem Büro zu sitzen... ab Mai. Mehr darüber hier.

Thats it for now. Herzlichen dank für Ihre Untersützung. Es bedeu