October 28, 2010 § 1 Comment

And I

I am the bodiless

The spectre

The comma nestled between the verbs

© Mando Alvarez

© Mando Alvarez

© Mando Alvarez

Alternating currents

October 27, 2010 § Leave a comment

I like my poets gentle and violent, in alternating currents. Passionate throughout, nearly always lonely. Kind of like my men. I like the way the words slam home, slice deep, hold my chin so I can’t look away from their word wounds. I like the way they whisper so close and slide the tips of their dark craft monologues along the most tender parts. Bone raw and sophisticated, doubtlessly authentic.

I like them the same, poets and men. All loved up with no where to go but my place, my eyes like saucers, hands like cups, all the better to drink them with.

Come into my room, sit by me while I cocoon. Gentleness and violence.

This city

October 27, 2010 § Leave a comment

I wandered this city without you. Many times. But I know the roads you crossed here. I know the train you rode, making your slow way home every time you had to come into midtown to do something you didn’t really want to do. The minutiae. I rode them too. Your rough hewn jaw set resolutely against the hot subterranean air. Shirt already stale. It’s laundry day soon. I saw the same stranger you saw. You know the one. Ragged shoes, down on their luck. I always make eye contact, change or no change. Reminding myself of I don’t know what. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up like that. Safety net shot to shit. No one to pick me up when I fall. This city has a way of keeping that precipice close.

Somewhere in the middle

October 27, 2010 § Leave a comment

“But there’s a litany of dreams that happens somewhere in the middle. Moonlight spilling on the bathroom floor. A page of the book where we transcend the story of our lives, past the taco stands and record stores. Moonlight making crosses on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one. We have been very brave, we have wanted to know the worst, wanted the curtain to be lifted from our eyes. This dream going on with all of us in it. Penciling in the bighearted slob. Penciling in his outstretched arms.”

~ Excerpt from “Snow and Dirty Rain” by Richard Siken

New York, USA | October, 2010

The Great Disconnect

October 21, 2010 § 3 Comments

In a time of a disintegrating sense of community and the diminishing family nucleus, I wonder if the public personal space of the internet has found a unique role to serve: A modern conduit for human connection.

The further we shrink into our “self-reliant” biospheres of meals-for-one, studio apartments, stranger neighbours and the “foreign” corner-store owner, the more dependent we become on the often silent, yet omnipresent company of Skype contacts and Facebook friends. That urge to share lives and to be communal has moved to a virtual dimension, crossing geographical boundaries and the equally distancing local and lifestyle divide.

A binary bridge across the Great Disconnect.

The community of my heart is far-flung. Communication technologies have spoilt me for choice (I want to be friends with her and her and her and him and him and her and him too… so what if they live in Azerbaijan) and the proliferation of travel options hasn’t helped either. Because of this, I am an addict. My time spent online and in post offices declaring love to those on distant shores definitely outweighs my time spent with the kids next door.

Perhaps the answer to my posture problems and failing eyesight is a simple matter of finding local playmates…. But first, I suppose I need to decide where “local” actually is…

Perpignan – Paris – Rome | September 2010

If it’s too loud, you’re too old

October 21, 2010 § Leave a comment

Saturday night | Singapore, August 2010

For the ones who said yes

October 20, 2010 § 2 Comments

As if I had more time to spare for the interweb…. I’ve done it again. Another string to the great binary disconnect.

The people who stole my heart, here.

A catalogue/archive of all the ones who I couldn’t walk past, and who said yes.

“I often say that when I am making a portrait, I’m not “capturing” the other person. If the photograph documents anything, it is the space between the subject and myself.

I have a hard time separating my sensibility from the inherent characteristics of the medium. Most photographs are made out of the desire to stop time. It is hard not to find something melancholic about this longing to possess and preserve the world. The act of photography strikes me as both desperate and utterly human. This relates to what I said previously about portraiture and the idea of photographing the space between the subject and myself. As an acknowledgement of that space, a photograph can’t help but be a small marker of alienation.”

~ Alec Soth

When the tide comes in to claim you

October 19, 2010 § Leave a comment

Where I end and you begin

October 19, 2010 § Leave a comment

There’s a gap in between
There’s a gap where we meet
Where I end and you begin

~ Radiohead

A sense of loss

October 19, 2010 § Leave a comment

“Your idea of love is rather primitive. It is not a series of sensations, independent of each other…”

I realised how every time I had fallen in love it had been like that: a sudden emotion, roused by a face, a gesture or a kiss, which I remember only as incoherent moments of excitement. ‘It is something different,’ said Anne. ‘There are such things as lasting affection, sweetness, a sense of loss… but I suppose you wouldn’t understand.’

~ Françoise Sagan from the novel “Bonjour Tristesse”

Where Am I?

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