shining stars

we used to. shine, yeah.
we had sparkling conversations in glitzy bars. brilliant ideas. dazzling friends...
on radiant summer days, yes.
we were building a bright future. we would show them.
glowing reviews.
incandescent.
somethings were glossed over. some things. dullness.
lost in the luminosity of our stories.
you were not even a glint in your mother's eye.
and we blazed away, particles out in all directions.
until all that was left was the shimmering embers of our golden past.

Shine

Una publicación compartida de Helena Suárez (@ladelentesuy) el 28 de Oct de 2017 a la(s) 12:36 PDT

the source of sadness

a love story. a love story is always a story of disappointment. a forever oncoming failure to meet universal expectations, to organise these fantasies suspended into molecular structures of being. gravity attached me to you, one day. I circled circled circled you and you stayed motionless in mid-air...lips parted, watching me fall, not catching the drift. love is motion, always: falling, grasping, touching, leaving. holding on. love is sadness, always.

not enough, it seems. 

my friend who's a dancer says: so, she disappointed you. 

I say.

the energy of thought

multiplied by distance, the energy of thought reaches peak intensity. it expands, grows off surrounding elements, attracts particles of memory, desire, loss. my thought extends towards you at increasing velocity, travelling space, philosophy and time. when it gets to you, it will stop, furiously beating its wings, suspended mid-air, right on the line of your horizon. perhaps you will recognise it, admire whatever colours it still has, let it linger. or maybe you will wave it off, gently with your hand, and disperse the energy all the way back into the past.

sometimes the desire is bigger than the possibility

there is a tiny light floating horizontally across the milky way. a satellite adoring the earth. watching over its every detail, recording each change of weather, each shift of the land...
away in Eurasia, a man sighs on arrival. a woman in California worries over a friend. a little blond girl wakes up in a tidy room. the beach opens up before another woman, as she walks into the sea. someone starts up their computer to look for news.
I sit, writing and reading, in a sunny room. happy to know they're all there, here, with me.

todo lo que está a mi lado

Todo lo que está a mi lado
Originally uploaded by ladelentes.

the sky is liquid, gray. close. tree branches move imperceptibly as we lie there, looking up. her eyes are liquid, green. she tells me things she knows, about me, that she doesn't know she knows. we share a bed, a complete universe of intimacy. sprinkled by the fountain, baptised.

nc-lines of flight: Yvonne Rainer in Peckham's street dance

my beautiful friend who is a dancer now has a blog
nc-lines of flight

influence

in all four corners of the earth there are people that remembered one word you said and made a fantastic, epic story out of it

the baby

my friend who's a dancer speaks softly on the phone, tired happy voice. in the background a little baby girl born just hours ago makes a little racket, wanting what? milk, warmth, voices, security, love.

of an evening

the currants in the tea loaf hold a secret and we don't know what it is. the telephone rings good news. cookies crumble into monster mugs of tea. music plays notes drifting towards the tower of chocolate, who sits quietly in a corner balancing ripe red raspberries. elephants and tigers raise their raisin eyes. women laugh. silver glitters. science holds court. we don't know that we don't know. doubts surround us. uncertainty reigns. life is good.

email messages with subject: hello

learn to be wary
learn to open with caution
learn to read twice, three times
learn to read again, between the lines
learn to fear the email messages with subject: hello

the shoes

the important thing is to concentrate on thinking not on WHAT you want to do, but on HOW you want to do it. then go out and get a new pair of shoes with your girlfriend the dancer. that should do it.

a-ha moment

one conversation and 14 years later i realise the pattern that was established and entrenched while carelessly giggling atop the shoulders of a swarthy, quite promising young would-be architect, taking pictures of a not particularly interesting house.

the girls

a long time ago a girl invited another girl out for a drink. the invitee, being young and shy was pretty worried about how the night would turn out...would the other girl get bored? would they have stuff in common? would it be ok? in the event, the night went really well and the girls became good friends. now they haven't seen each other for a long time, but another invitation, and another night, and the learned lessons are still there and a girl will not forget another girl.

it was an excellent idea

P9130014.JPG
Originally uploaded by ladelentes.

sturt's lock is just west of new north road. it's a landmark. you can meet there. and if you have time, you can go to the co-op up the road, and get some nibbles and a bottle of wine. and as the sun is shining in the west and reflecting on the clouds in the east, you can sit there with your friend and laze in the orange light. and smile at the people kayaking. and talk about how good it is. and how bad it is. and make it all go round and round til it makes sense. and you can look for a while as a crazed something draws frantic spirals in the water when all the light is coming from the stars and the lights of bicycles zooming past. and you can then decide it's just the right time to go home. and go home. swinging.

you look beautiful, and he's very tall

mid year's resolution:
- praise your friends
- love your friends
- listen to your friends
- call your friends

advice

so my friend from the land of nice tells me, c'mon, why don't you write about the one-footed balancing cyclists? or the aliens that have come to broadway market with a slightly skewed vision of what humans look like? or the couples that sat in the pub im'ing each other from their matching apple macs? or the fact that there's a man out there who's managed to make it past the age of 20 without learning the crucial difference between bees and wasps? or the girl that went up the stairs in her shorts and sort of hypnotized you for a split second with the swaying of her legs? or the baby that kept showing his brand new teeth to us knowing full well he'd exacerbate our broodiness? or the stalls full of left over designer food? or the... and i told him, even if he didn't really tell me all this, i can't write about any of that. of course i can't. so that's it.

kick up the ass

nothing like a simple statement of how the movie looks from the outside to make you realise you're a terrible film maker...

friend

brushes my fringe over, says let's see your pretty face, just like my mum.
no way to be lonely with friends like that...

elusive

my beautiful busy friend is the most generous person i know, but seeing her is harder than seeing the pope naked

magnetic fields

the funny thing about having a friend from over there over here or viceversa is that suddenly worlds collide, contexts become wobbly, and everything that was neatly separated is merged into who knows quite what.