Friday, September 26, 2008


Zab Maboungou says, if you don't dance, how can you properly think?
I say, if you don't love, how can you properly make art?

Thursday, September 25, 2008

fish-bird man

An offering from Jason. A story from Chuangzi.

In the Northern Ocean there is a fish called Kun which is many thousand li in size. It changes into a bird named Peng whose back is many thousand li in breadth. When it rises and flies, its wings are like clouds filling the sky.

It is said “When Peng is heading toward the Southern Ocean it splashes along the water for three thousand li. It rises with the wind and wings its way up to ninety thousand li; it flies for six months, and then it rests.”

Heat shimmers in the air like galloping horses,
dust floats like the morning mist,
and living creatures are blown about in the sky.


Sometimes you use a word, and even as you say it, you know it is inadequate, imprecise. But you say it anyway because the word is a valve to release the pressure of an alchemical reaction in your body that is like a great big river, running from your perineum to the crown of your head, that dissolves your eyeballs and threatens to blow out your heart.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008


Among many gifts from Jason, here is one of the great Canadian wilderness. Traces of bear and deer, going in opposite directions, to be appreciated from the warm comfort of your computer screen.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008


Recently it occurred to me that in the past, when I have fallen in love with young men, I have actually fallen in love with their potential. Hence, I have fallen in love with what I project onto them. This can never be lived up to of course, and inevitably, I am disappointed.

ML has just offered a story of falling in love with a very very old man - a man whose eyelids are "so ancient they are translucent and veined and dusty. His gait is lopped and slow like a sloth. His voice almost a wisp". But she sees the young man within him flitting in and out, and wants to go home with him to his apartment in the butte chaumont, where it is very agréable.

When you are young, your age is a thought, sometimes held in fear, sometimes awaited for with taut anticipation and excitement.
When you are older, your youth lives within you - held by the fine lines in the skin, shining out of your, maybe rheumy, eyes.
Nothing is lost, unless you want to lose it.

a manly menu

Ron and Jason (they are not a couple) are coming over for dinner tonight. I asked Junhong what I should cook and he said, "Something manly".

So tonight the menu will be

Baked mushrooms
Braised beef shortribs on mashed potatoes
Steamed broccolini
Rhubarb and strawberry crumble.

Monday, September 22, 2008

gazing upon the homeland #2 - food and drink

char kway teow

chicken rice

ais kacang

wonton mee, siew yook

air limau in a plastic bag

air kelapa in a kelapa

how to give without asking for anything in return #5

Here is a recipe for giving without asking for anything in return:

1. Give to someone who can receive without suspicion
2. Give from a place of structural integrity: your throat soft, the crown of your head open to the sky, your heart chakra open, your perineum connected to your heart, your feet connecting you to the earth, your orifices open.
3. The receiver receives from a place of structural integrity. Ditto ditto, ditto, ditto.
4. Let go once you have given so that tension does not mask sensation, so that your body can find the earth, so that energy fills you up again and there is more to give. You are rich! No need to hang on!
5. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

Friday, September 19, 2008

gazing upon the homeland - juxtapositions

my young man and me

Last weekend, I came home in the morning with a new acquisition on my skin. A brand. Scarification to seal in a moment that counts.

I showed it to Junhong.
He was not impressed. He went into the bathroom and talked to himself for an hour before coming out with his water uzi and pointed it at me. He said it was ugly and stupid. Would it come off with soap? With bleach? With scrubbing? There were tears. Despite his announcement that he would not leave the house until the brand was healed, and only after he had made me change my clothes, we went out and bonded over junk food, ice-cream and the ogling of ipods. Afterwards, he conceded that it would have been better if the arrow had been neater and I should take more time next time.

Today I walked Junhong to school. I forgot to leave him at the corner two blocks away and walked with him all the way to school, closer to the possible gaze of his peers. Instead of a kiss, we high-fived each other.

And so, we each take a step towards our own autonomous bodies.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

la vie est belle #2

It is the last few days of summer. I walk fast, with a bounce in my step, a silly grin on my face. I am so happy that I listen to Mr Tambourine Man on repeat and think it is a happy song. David and Adrienne assure me that it is not.

A few days ago, I dropped by Mandula's to leave a stack of postcards for my show and to say hi to Ziyian. She got me drunk with wine from Jules next door and proceeded to sell me a very expensive turtle neck.

Today the turtle neck is imbued with the scent of the beloved.
I shall wear it to rehearsal this afternoon and dance like a motherfucker.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

la rentrée

At the beginning of the week, Junhong, all excited about being in Grade 5 and having the teacher he wished for, said, as we were walking down the street, "I am a man!". Last night, overwhelmed by his own expectations of himself, he lay in a fetal position in my lap, crying repeatedly, "I can't do it, I can't do it, I can't do it!"

Today, faced with an impending deadline and stupid questions about "diversity", overwhelmed by my own expectations, I too feel like curling up in a fetal position in someone's lap and crying, "I can't do it, I can't do it, I can't do it!"

Thursday, September 4, 2008


I went back into the studio for the first time in six months and danced for three hours like I had been


Tuesday, September 2, 2008

the language of my heart

People often ask me if I speak to Junhong in Chinese or Malay. I say, no, because I've lost these languages. I do not speak them from my heart.
What do you speak from your heart then, someone asked me recently.
Well, I'm not sure if my heart is capable of speaking coherently in any language - it is a mute, confused, irrational organ, capable of emotional acrobatics of incredible virtuosity and high risk, capable of superhuman long-distance travel, capable of breaking and healing repeatedly (all that scar tissue...).
But completely stupid in the face of language and logic.

Monday, September 1, 2008

dreamblog #1

Last night I dreamed I followed death
I was performing A Character, the solo that I performed for almost 15 years before retiring it in Yellowknife. This was a surefire solo - impossible not to love. In this dream, however, I had not rehearsed, and my hubris was being rewarded by the fact that I was completely bombing. I had no idea what I was saying. I was forgetting all my lines. I lost my shoes, tried on many different wrong pairs while the audience waited. I forgot all the right places for the wrong gestures and paint. The audience left in droves. There was a party afterwards but I hid in the dressing room, which was full of beds. I went into one to hide under the blanket.
Then I was on the bus, talking in French to the Tibetan techie to convince him that the piece is actually not as crappy as he thinks. It will be better tomorrow, je te promis. He wants to go away and take on a gig with a Filipino dance company.
(Him: what will you be doing in September, still planning on having a baby?
Me: what do you mean what do you mean? I am never going to have another baby!)
Then the Tibetan techie turned into a Tibetan woman who was taking me to eat a special Tibetan meal. The best one was further along, where they didn’t have too many onions.

I woke up as if from a nightmare. Then I realised that I was alive and life is good. I went to my computer to write down the dream and found a message that made me smile.


I see you
seeing me
see me
seeing you
see me