http://fuerzabrutanyc.com/

if you have the time or money to come to new york and see this show you must must must must!!!!! it combines this country's need for ADD/ADHD stimulation, aerial dance (the new dance that i think we need to get accustomed to before we miss the boat), stunts, high energy anything, sexy bodies naturale, dance that's at the brink of climax, and bass heavy beats, ALL coming together with the glue of innovative audience interaction and upping the bar of the "theater production crew."

i am so damn inspired.

i almost cried.

it gives me hope when people dish out $75 to see something that isn't sports related or pop music via ticketmaster.


and to top it off, a lot of the dancers have random backgrounds and a little bird told me are also "burners"...... people that enjoy burning man.

go dance today. even if it's just while you're cooking dinner. or in the shower.

we have bodies meant to move.... and sometimes up the walls!

Should be Happy about this.

Good news: possibly a cure

Bad news: lots of people are still locked into the pharmaceutical industry due to cancer treatments therefore locked into the health insurance industry (yeah, industry not service)

More bad news: whatever this guy is onto will be quite pricey for the middle class american, and i doubt your hmo will cover it.

St. Patty's Day 2010: Children's Corner at the New York City Public Library

Oh the day of Patrick. Saint Patrick.
After a meaningless day, serving at JFK airport, I have accomplished a few randoms today.
First of all, meaningless day at work? I say that because close to my shift ending, my cellular phone went missing. Jelicia, the lovely, Queens-bred, mouthy diva, called said cell phone, assuming we would hear it. Nope. Minutes later, she calls it again. Voice mail. The assfucker who had it, shut it off. Theft was enough for me to ask to leave earlier than I was already chosen to do. So, one day at work = 100 some odd dollars - new cell phone cost = much less money than I wanted to work for today. Meaningless. Sure, there may have been goodness and substance in my hard work as an airport server and further understanding my fellow employees for the betterment of working at that shit hole. But with all the bull shit customers (who act like I am a slave to the $5-$10 they'll tip me when they finafuckingly leave), I would have rather stayed in bed, smoked a bowl, and jerked off. I'm counting the days until I am allowed to bartend again. 25 shifts to go, and I can get back behind the bar. aaaahhh to much complaining about work aaahhhhhhhh.....stop. stopping. stopped.

accomplishments of today in some weird outline format:

1) 2 hour nap whilst my sweet jeremy tried to track down a new phone fo dis bitch.
a) god-buddha-allah-mary-zeus bless ireland for birthing people to fuck other people to then birth my jeremy. with the realization that ive had 7 phones since living in nyc, the quest for a new one seemed painful. so he did it for me :)

b) napping is essential when my lifestyle lately makes me feel like im in some sort of concentration camp condition. i do not eat or sleep enough AT ALL, because i work work work for people that suck suck suck, bosses and customers. that could be widely exaggerated but whatever. throw me in a gas chamber and put me out of this misery.
..........how dance fits in there, i have no idea??? by the time rehearsal rolls around, im already dreaming.


2) lunch at the tortilla factory and eatery thingamajig down the street, which is ridiculously cheap but shockingly delicious. and im pretty sure the chicken is really chicken.
a) we have certain perks living in "little mexico/puerto rico" which is what i like to call our little area of residence in brooklyn. cheap, yummy, authentic food of their homelands. convenient fruit and veggie stands that carry goods im sure are teleported from the land which they are harvested cuz they taste that fresh. and greasy brown men hissing and hooting, whilst eying you like you cum tequila and dispense pesos. etc. etc. etc.

3) dressed myself in my own clothes, donning a bit o green for the irish, instead of spending the day in my black, pseudo-professional, waitress garb.
a) i said id stop complaining about work. . . .... . . ....

4) subbed it to my sanctuary that is the library (insert heavenly angel "aaahhhhh" here)
a) if i had to pick a religion and a place of worship, it would be based around the Library. it is a place to research life, love, poop, math, what to expect when your expecting, hemingway, and find all the answers, anecdotes, opinions, theories, blazeyblah. people stay out of each others' way, it's quiet, there's one in almost every city, and yay, peace. and there's a public restroom. in a country where there's a price for everything, it awes me how such an institution exists. with that thought being manifested into writing, i know realize we should probably take as much advantage of the Library as we can. surely some asshole will take advantage of the one free wonder we have.




the end, gotta go to yoga if i can make it......... tititititititititits titties.

Alright, so that was just crazy talk.

Welcome to New York folks. hold onto your seats because there aren't really any.
after posting my first blog, i read it and realized i sound like a crazy person. and really, i am one, but no one will read this if it is complete nonsense. so let me start over.
i am living in brooklyn, new york city, and i decided to live here because i am, what i like to believe to be, a dancer. i almost call myself a dancer because ive been doing it since i was 4 years old. by doing it, i mean dancing more than the average person, and doing it well enough to want to be seen doing. when laid out as so, i am nuts for leaving ohio to move more and allegedly better than most people.

so now i must go, because i am about to sleep with my boyfriend in ohio via skype. and i have to get up at 4:30 am to go to work.

like i said, crazy person.... or maybe im just on my period like white on rice. ew blood.




...next blog will:
not include so many i's.

um........i can't title this.

so i've played so many roles, ive lost track of which one is the bottom of me. that makes no sense whatsoever. don't really know who i am of the group of mes. or know if i like all of them. being an artist or "artist" in new york forces you to become schizo. you can't say how you feel at work the way you do at rehearsal the way you do around the people at the bar or around the friends of that friend or at the movie theater. i think that applies to more than just the service industry. i get to fake nice and not crazy for 8 hours a day. around my coworkers and customers. dont let too much slip. sometimes i wonder how i end up in situations with normal people, considering i dont feel or always act like i am. i think the real me happens among few. likely, bear munk. sometimes charmin, sometimes mr. gory. sometimes my brother. sometimes ash math.
ever feel like or stop talking to wonder if the other person is really listening? it's funny how of all the people you talk to, only a few know who you really are. stop talking to notice how the other person is responding to your "conversation" that is really just an outspoken inner monologue.

i feel like this.