It all began with a solo walk near jardin de plante meeting up with friends, dark as paris could be on a sunday around line 10 and cold - and never wanting to peer into homeless caves, due to my own sense of giving people their ‘privacy.’ The one time I do, and in the ‘shadows’ of cardboard i catch ‘him’ being one with body and hand - if you know what i mean. a very interesting study of urban - displacement, the body, public sex, body drama, and dare i say performance. needless to say that was the universes’ birthday gift to - m e.
right. *To get out of bed or not. S o r e throat. Fresh move : Lemon ginger parsely mint infusion with honey x agavé. practice. In ancient India, the Sanskrit word “akashic” or “cosmic sky” resembled the contemporary concept of “space.” But the term referred not only to intergalactic space but also to space (and time) in the loftier dimensions of life, the source from which creation flowed, the divine domain. Therefore, this ancient term signified a space-time continuum that is all pervasive. - The Akashic Field and Psychic Dreams / Stanley Krippne *a 11p conversation between a white girl from san jose / a brown boy from pakistan / and a black girl from california ( it was her birthday) and the drag queens ( yes: CABARêVE D’AMOUR with jean - biche was epic) / bananna chocolate crepes x bourbon (poured on top like feathering ketchup on french fries) made the cold mantras about tyler the creator x jj fad x and we’re glad the boat thing at concrete didn’t come through, because talks about ex-boyfriends and whether or not to press unfriend…speak without words …use that telepathy like a dog.
ok so i thought i was pregnant, i’m not. but that is some scary sh*t.
why do we do this to ourselves. notice i say 'we,' like you are joined in on my demise. it makes me feel better. it's just i always get exceptionally sensitive about going to bed with my man during my fleur week (ovulation). so i end up convincing myself that i'm with child. i even had pregnancy dreams! i started becoming sensitive to different smells, and every little pain or hint of nausea convinced me that it was time to go to the front door of God's crib.
i said to my friend, do i look different to you?
he says, yeah, now that you mention it, your energy is – different.
(what was i thinking - how can anyone look 5 days pregnant) ?
i might be pregnant.
an hour later, in rehearsal about to go on stage,
i'm screaming down the corridor to the same friend, hey !
i need a tampon!
he says, i don't have one.
i scream , go find one!
he says under his breath so the theater acoustics don't pick up on our
conversation before walking out -
sooooooo you're not pregnant?
i’m convinced that God and my uterus got a good giggle out of that.
why oh why.
did I do something to you kcrw ?
my favorite online radio station in l.a. - my go to for good music, culture and sometimes if I’m feeling really adult : the news. it seems i have been rather silent on this issue for months, but because i’m in a bad mood today, feeling broke, and well working my ass off trying to get a danse short – film produced, i’m gonna to let you have it kcrw. sweetly of course.
dear kcrw, 14:45/paris/listening to kcrw
what the hell did I do to you that you felt it necessary to remove my real-time play list that used to scroll so lovely on the right side of the media-player? to add insult to injury, i think you know which one i’m talking about. it used to play at the same-time as the current song that my favorite dj’s and selectors played their tunes throughout their weekly archived sets. it made my life, God i don’t know: tolerable. seeing those songs and their titles and album art and knowing i could look for them later on a rampant web-google search when sleep escaped me one night was like the best feeling in the world. it was like finding your keys in the bottom of your bag right before you pee on yourself standing outside your apartment door in the freezing cold, and rain type of feeling.
please, kcrw bring it back. for some reason you feel placing it on another page entitled "archive play list" on your crazy busy website, is a better place for it, sans real-time play back. i mean when i type 'archive' into the search box, you know i don’t get what i’m looking for. i get it, you don't love me anymore, instead i get archived food shows from 2006.
bring my f*ckn play list in real-time back or i'll bring selena gomez, justin beiber and miley cyrus to your studios and they will sing every song nina simone ever wrote in the wrong key twerkin all over your faces!
after my late night rant to God while lying on my back because sometimes i’m just too lazy to get on my knees to pray, i dosed off at some point between rambling about another miracle / money / healing my friend from breast cancer / bringing that love of my life who looks like sex but thinks like james baldwin / and getting that ex to call me back graveling for my hand in marriage - i was still able to get up at an adult hour today: 7 :30. i handled my detox breakfast like a champ (without honey or bread – no comment until later) and out the door by 10.
i’m broke today, so i had to go look for more clients, sell this yoga - ass like a prostitute. broke. i live in paris so how broke is that? well, france is in a recession right now, so even though most artists always live a recession lifestyle, now even buying a book is difficult. i have enough to eat and live - but rent is due baby! i have a money for the rent not all of it though and being the last week of the month – well let’s just say i’m praying for a miracle. again. i wonder sometimes if heaven gets tired of seeing my name come up in the inbox. like oh, it’s her again– maybe we should just humour her and make her loose her sh*it with the old lady who will push her down the stairs in the metro station.
i have stood in line for miracles before at the front door of God’s crib, i.e. note previous pregnancy scare, and believe me we're homies, he let's me in and gives me miracle after tasty miracle. and i have even settled for not so miraculous things to happen, like allowing my debit card to work at the market knowing i had 5.12€ in my account, or perhaps even getting that free download of frankly - anything.
so here i stand at your door - kcrw play listless, and no honey.
although i labeled my situation a semi-emergency seeing today is the 25th and the rent is due on the proverbial 1st, i ask - does God even care about our man-made days we call the first of the month? i mean, he is the universal cat that's running things, so if the rent is due the first - he moves when he's ready. right? *i'll let my proprietor know exactly that after telling her my thoughts on the akashic field and theories of relativity.
as i stand in line, perhaps refugees, convicts on deathrow and the starving may win this one out. i’m pathetic, and being a dancer, choreographer, poet, and sometime photographer with yoga –healing skills doesn’t necessarily scream millionaire. but really i have to thank my friend david, because he connected me with a great theater which has kept me alive for the past few months. modeling has paid the bills too, but in the meantime you'll find me standing on the corner of heaven avenue and rue des Jesus boulevard until the 1st.
on top of all this, i must say i have been detoxing for about 9 days now. it’s a parasite cleanse. it’s an amazing departure from green juice fasts, because this detox involves healing herbs that cleanse parasites from the body. now, i’m not one to think i carry parasites or any other living thing in me / except for those silent moments at home /on the bus / at work when i have that inner dialogue and i think i’m pregnant. but it is my healing duty as a citizen of the naturopath community to remain – clean. i have always researched natural ways to heal the body / so when i discovered these herbs i decided – why not, let’s get these f*ckn parasites out !
the cleanse was rough the first few days, where delicious french bread was removed from my diet, along with agave nectar and honey. those items make my life worth living - they make breakfast with warm porridge and fresh fruit like morning sex.
i’m done. i sound like a 1st world complainer.
"oh i couldn’t eat bread because i’m detoxing as i send another text on my blackberry to my friend to confirm our lunch date."
"oh, i can’t have my fresh honey on fruit for 35 days!" oh God !
YOU, yes you the one living in paris with clean running water, a roof over your head, and wait are those shoes on your feet ? your tenth pair ?
there are many out there in this world, who would kill not to suffer from hunger and poverty on the level that i’ve never seen in my life. yes, i live like a gypsy artist, but there is nothing that compares to the real poverty that i personally fight to dispel in my art and work.
it is actually very enlightening, the detox that is. while cleansing physical parasites, the mind and soul also somehow rid themselves of metaphorical parasites too. the first person that arose in my soul, arose – well past thoughts, unforgiveness, old relationships all come up while you’re cleansing the body. it’s great ! i love dealing with the exact things i put deep down inside my soul to never see the light of day again. really. it’s tons of fun.
the old friend/lover who will remain nameless – we’ll call him « where are you when i needed you » that’ll do. well it was a long arduous correspondence between the two of us, we have written many letters and such and finally after many years of silence because our own lives took different paths, where are you when i needed you and i began speaking again last year and at some point i was under him, in paris. naked.
now i know what you're thinking - was she able to pray that day would never end? and the answer is yes, but also two - sided, because the day did indeed - end. in my humble theory of relativity opinion though, the day is in a circle and never ending - so we're still there in the akashic field bound to cross paths again. right.
but in true heavenly fashion and not without God’s dark humorous wit, we went our separate ways. his loss, i dusted my soul off and carried on. i traveled and worked in africa and returned to paris with a new attitude on life -'let’s kick some ass !' and boom, autumn detox – i discovered i’m not over him as i thought my clever ass was.
well as any good detoxer does, i prayed, wrote, dansed, did yoga, called all my wise friends on what to do and realized i was having a common emotional detox. great.
which really means, you got to get through the first 15 days or so, before you begin making any serious moves. no judgements about the feelings and thoughts, because all these things come and go, fast and fleeting. contacting old lovers, unfinished projects, reaching for the bread, butter and honey, old lazy ways – are going to do more harm than help. well seeing i’m only on day 9 / it's almost the first of the month / and i still don't have my real-time play list /things could get really ugly.
aside from that emotional failure assisted by my sweet innocent heart remembering what once was - all in all it has been an amazing birthday month. i had a crazy - beautiful birthday / i’ve performed the 'big' project on stage / went to tons of galleries and saw beautiful new work by contemporary photographers / modeled for an amazing look-book /got really inspired to choreograph my own danse short-film /connected with several curators and taste makers and working on getting more work to keep the roof over this pretty little head.
considering you’re still reading at this point i assume you aren’t in line in front of God’s door right now or are you ? well, if you see me – no cuts, but i will be sure to get answers from HIM/HER about why dogs use telepathy better than humans, why there are such places like zanzibar /and why we don’t live x reign there.
1. conversation was all done in a cafe under those really dope heaters and sitting lotus style- smoking a j.
2. thanks L for the universal birthday gift quote. the white girl from san jose.
In her own words:
Weléla mar kindred is a dancer whose love for language and movement took her from los angeles, chicago, new york, ghana and paris. originally from los angeles she has published a collection of poemes entitled: salt and a play entitled feliz desafarado / violently happy (which was work- shopped in brooklyn, new york / 2008). while at university weléla studied film x performance at the school of the art institute of chicago. meanwhile her poetry was published by writer/professor michael datcher. weléla was the recipient of the tides foundation arts and culture grant, new york / 2011. she currently resides in paris, and is the founding - director of the artist collective: lamb imaginarium.
the americanization of ancestral-soil gumbo
-1 cup of Ella Fitzgerald
-2tbl of Mr. Bojangles sung by Nina Simone
-1 cup stripped layers of Saturn
2/3 cup exotic turtle eggs
a dozen bahian children deep rich simmer
a sprinkle of indigo peacock feathers
chants by pharoah saunders
3 spoons of cherry liquor
few drops hot chili sauce to taste
sit pot in rain for atleast 2 moons
serve with laughter x copper-dusted flower / weléla mar kindred birth: november 10