i'm so
relieved.
thank
you.
~k.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
ambitions
this cabaret i'm designing with anya is...
lucid. biting. soft. bloody. masochistic. smashtastic. heartfelt. enigmatic. lustrous. alluring. a portrait of solitude in a crowded and limitless city.
it's the journey to new york and the story of pushing through. of accepting defeat and knowing it's beautiful, and how sometimes, it's the only way. it's about being alone outside of fleeting momentary embraces. about allowing the uncomfortable and knowing the sunset is just another lightbulb burning out.
actions, reactions, and mending the stitches we break. forgiving the dollar signs and relenting to the art that brought us here.
it is my story.
it is anya's story.
it is everyone's story and you all deserve to be a part of it.
opening night is thursday, 23rd of june. doors at 9, show at 10. 342 maujer st in brooklyn... you can walk from the grand street L train.
there is a 20-piece orchestra and a seven person cast. i am the choreographer and you all are dancers in the show, if you just show up. it will feed you, it will inspire you, and most of all, it will never leave you.
we are all new york.
~k.
lucid. biting. soft. bloody. masochistic. smashtastic. heartfelt. enigmatic. lustrous. alluring. a portrait of solitude in a crowded and limitless city.
it's the journey to new york and the story of pushing through. of accepting defeat and knowing it's beautiful, and how sometimes, it's the only way. it's about being alone outside of fleeting momentary embraces. about allowing the uncomfortable and knowing the sunset is just another lightbulb burning out.
actions, reactions, and mending the stitches we break. forgiving the dollar signs and relenting to the art that brought us here.
it is my story.
it is anya's story.
it is everyone's story and you all deserve to be a part of it.
opening night is thursday, 23rd of june. doors at 9, show at 10. 342 maujer st in brooklyn... you can walk from the grand street L train.
there is a 20-piece orchestra and a seven person cast. i am the choreographer and you all are dancers in the show, if you just show up. it will feed you, it will inspire you, and most of all, it will never leave you.
we are all new york.
~k.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
charlotte
sing, sing,
sing...
spotlight dwells on your
nose, your
little mole
perching on your lip;
sing, sing,
sing...
make yourself known,
cause the silence
leads to nothing,
and the solitude leads to
gold;
sing, sing,
sing...
don't forget the
tonka-tots
that pushed you
to the top,
the plastic faces
and boring spaces
made better by
a lop-sided
city view, sparkling
windows and
exposed brick walls
are better dreams than
none, i guess.
sing, sing,
sing,
cause the dance fell
short of the dress.
~k.
sing...
spotlight dwells on your
nose, your
little mole
perching on your lip;
sing, sing,
sing...
make yourself known,
cause the silence
leads to nothing,
and the solitude leads to
gold;
sing, sing,
sing...
don't forget the
tonka-tots
that pushed you
to the top,
the plastic faces
and boring spaces
made better by
a lop-sided
city view, sparkling
windows and
exposed brick walls
are better dreams than
none, i guess.
sing, sing,
sing,
cause the dance fell
short of the dress.
~k.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
the cork
dance and love and hot and friends... and all the while, you're still not here. push and pull and stretch and thin... even a two doesn't fit me anymore. these words and calls past sleeping walls... it's all a fake, a puppet trade; of yours to mine and to compare our share of "heartbreak".
i write about you when i'm drunk.
how does that make you feel?
cause if it's one-fifth of how you make me feel, then, well...
we'll be even on wednesday.
i, my friends, am an idiot.
~k.
i write about you when i'm drunk.
how does that make you feel?
cause if it's one-fifth of how you make me feel, then, well...
we'll be even on wednesday.
i, my friends, am an idiot.
~k.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
on hamsters and healing
i wish there were enough words in the english language to describe how i feel sometimes. like right now sometimes. this is why i make up words, and this is why those words make total and utter sense.
when i was a kid, i had two hamsters, hammy and ophelia. besides the ridiculous shakespeare reference, they were awesome. granted, i almost killed ophelia when i decided it would be a good idea to put her in a fedora and take her out to our pool so she could "lay out" (i was absolutely certain that hamsters led human lives as soon as we walked out of the room when i was young).
she "got out" of the hat and "almost drowned" in our neighbors' pool gutter. good thing a white hamster looks nothing like a rat, or i might have been arrested for accomplice to hamster murder.
so, my mom told me not to touch the 13 (!) babies she had when she gave birth to hammy's offspring. "but why?" i asked. "well, because they will get eaten by the mother," she said.
okay. i have heard ridiculous horror stories from new mothers, and the gross things that happen when kids get sick... but a mother eATiNG her kids? c'monnnnnn. get outtttt. that is totally made up, and i was too smart for her little "stories". and let's face it, there is something retardedly cute about a teeny blind rodent. they're so soft, and teeny...
she totally ate them. all 13. down the hatch, no sauces.
i.
was.
devastated.
of course, it was my own fault, as my mother reminded me at least once a month every year afterwards (i didn't like doing dishes). but i was so tempted by their amaurotic adorableness that i had to go there... and it ended in death.
and so, i wish that webster's had a fucking word for this story, cause it's exactly how i feel at this very moment, and i can't fucking describe it without writing a god. damn. essay.
meh.
~k.
when i was a kid, i had two hamsters, hammy and ophelia. besides the ridiculous shakespeare reference, they were awesome. granted, i almost killed ophelia when i decided it would be a good idea to put her in a fedora and take her out to our pool so she could "lay out" (i was absolutely certain that hamsters led human lives as soon as we walked out of the room when i was young).
she "got out" of the hat and "almost drowned" in our neighbors' pool gutter. good thing a white hamster looks nothing like a rat, or i might have been arrested for accomplice to hamster murder.
so, my mom told me not to touch the 13 (!) babies she had when she gave birth to hammy's offspring. "but why?" i asked. "well, because they will get eaten by the mother," she said.
okay. i have heard ridiculous horror stories from new mothers, and the gross things that happen when kids get sick... but a mother eATiNG her kids? c'monnnnnn. get outtttt. that is totally made up, and i was too smart for her little "stories". and let's face it, there is something retardedly cute about a teeny blind rodent. they're so soft, and teeny...
she totally ate them. all 13. down the hatch, no sauces.
i.
was.
devastated.
of course, it was my own fault, as my mother reminded me at least once a month every year afterwards (i didn't like doing dishes). but i was so tempted by their amaurotic adorableness that i had to go there... and it ended in death.
and so, i wish that webster's had a fucking word for this story, cause it's exactly how i feel at this very moment, and i can't fucking describe it without writing a god. damn. essay.
meh.
~k.
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