Open to Everything

Three weeks into my yoga practice, I have become a completely different person. Not that I was not mellow, but I am mellower.

I take an anusara yoga class, and my instructor is an artist/yoga instructor who forces us in the most gentle way ever to do more than we think we can. The first week with her I was sore in places I did not know that I could be sore! The following week, I got my leg well close to my shoulder and did not feel a bit of pain. She has a never say never approach, and I just go with the flow. She did a difficult pose, and I said a little bit aloud that I was not going to be able to do that. She said that we were not having a competition, but that we have to be open to at least trying everything.

My body and my mind are open to everything. In terms of my art, I am still tabula rasa, but the new ink is smeared all over my head like henna.

My blogging is like yoga too. I am way past baby steps, I am walking...

Tabula Rasa

Whatever I did, I do not know in terms of what keys I pressed on the computer. All I know is that I lost approximately 10000 words on the novel I have been working on. I was not sure about the direction, so maybe this was a sign, like I have a chance to go back in time and change fate. How many times in your life do you have the chance to go back and change everything? Well writers are a special breed because we are always going back and changing things, but with the kinds of thoughts I was having maybe it is a good thing that I can go back smarter with these characters. I had just begun writing out of sequence, so those pages do not bother me that much, but the pages that led to those hurt me a lot more. I just have to pretend that I have been given a chance to do better and go with it...I cannot stop working on this piece, I have too much personally invested in it...

Lachrymose

Lachrymose, just left MoMA, after seeing Le Notti di Cabiria. I do not want to give away any of the story, but there is a scene with a hypnotist...there is a part where a man says to Cabiria that we all are pure and innocent at heart, that there is romance in all of us--he did not say it like that but that is how I heard it. He said that we wear masks of cynicism. I think we do, we all say that we do not need love but the minute we meet someone who makes us change out minds we are all suckers. I have a cut out piece of paper that reads love makes fools of us all.

I think it does, and that it is the best part of all of us. That love has the ability to take us all out like a two bit gangster. It roughs us up, hangs us over a fish tank with piranhas in it and breaks our bones and hearts. But it is still the thing we all crave and go after blindly. Maybe because I am a violent romantic, but don't we all know it is true?

As long as out of it we can stand on our own two feet and go on like before...

Pink Granny Panties

I did not know it was National Underwear Day until I saw it on the morning news. Let's see, I am peeking...actually my hot pink bra strap is peeking at me. I also know I have on pink granny panties. No thongs for me, I like to feel my butt covered. Cotton too. I love colors and patterns, but cotton and my butt must be covered.

What are you wearing?

Pornology New York

In the span of a few months, I have been bombarded by sex in New York. On the cover of New York magazine, in plays including My First Time and my most recent installment CineKink's Pornology New York.

Everything I see as a writer hopefully contributes to a better understanding and sensibility to me with writing about sex. There was a scene in the CineKink feature that I cannot even describe because I am not sure what the man was doing to his girlfriend, except to say that it really looked painful.

And she loved it even though she cried and was visibly in pain. Pain for her experiencing it and me watching it! But when it was over, he said to her who loves you? She fell into his arms with ease and cried, at which point he was so tender and loving to her. You really have to trust someone in a situation like that. I guess you really need to love them and know that they love you because could it be any less?

How lucky am I to live in a city that is so sexually saturated media wise as an erotic (and romantic!) writer?