"The Dancer believes that his art has something to say which cannot be expressed in words or in any other way than by dancing... there are times when the simple dignity of movement can fulfill the function of a volume of words. There are movements which impinge upon the nerves with a strength that is incomparable, for movement has power to stir the senses and emotions, unique in itself. This is the dancer's justification for being, and his reason for searching further for deeper aspects of his art."
I should be writing when I'm not dancing. Perhaps I'll use this as a warmup of sorts.
I've been under a roof with constant warm food and protien for four nights now. My body is beginning to recover, muscle mass is beginning to return. I feel stronger everyday, even though I've been dancing myself to the point of exhaustion every day..... It's been wonderious. Mysteriously wonderful.
I feel like a factory worker dancing in a lighbulb factory. Lit up. By light bulbs. I still can't feel my right pinky due to train hopping mishap in southern Washington state. Oh no, they're onto me.
I've still got the impression that there are those who know more than they should. I suggest a pseudonym. I believe that's how it's spelled. I had to look at it for a california minute to figure out if it looked right. I'm referring of course, to a false name. A name that is not the same as the legal corporation that your legal name "in capitus maximus paranoias", or whatever it's called sounds like. It could be similar, but doesn't have to be. New name. Check. New birthdate. Check. Lose ID. Check.
Now, I'm not suggestion. Not a suggestion. Not suggesting that you go about and change your name. But it could be fun, couldn't it? Then, perhaps there'd be less of a connection between you and your actions. Or the "you" in the "legal" sense of the "word" and your "action" in the "literal" sense of the "word". If you could have heard the pronunciation of those words. Said in my mind with such a ferocious accentuation. I'm not even sure if I'm using real words any more. Any more than I was once.
Could he perhaps be hiding gems within the random ranting of the written word?
Had you stopped to ask yourself that.
I have a theory. It's a fairly simple theory. It references experience and the thought patterns, or even actual thoughts if actual is a word that can be used to describe thoughts. Is there a connection between what a person puts into their mind and the thoughts that the mind produces? Novel experience leading to creative thought. Or thoughts.
I was going to conduct a so called "thought experiment" in which I showed that the person cannot have the thought "I dislike *Paradigm X* until she has come into contact with this paradigm.
What the fuck am I even doing? Sending these thoughts to the vast unknown of the internet. There is literally no real-world reward for this behaviour. It is useless. Completely pointless. Filing hours of my day. Under the W folder, for wasted. Back under this roof, I'm bored. And I can only dance for so many hours per day. I get uber-tired.
So if you're reading this, fuck you. Go do something. Spend one less hour searching facebook or blogging or whatever it is that we're doing on this screen and spend that hour getting better at something, you'd be incredibly good at something. And, if there's one thing I've learned today, it's that a +1 to blogging skill is not going to make a huge lick of difference anywhere.
