Bodies Exhibit

"To see is to Believe" were the five words I read entering the actual exhibition center. It was the main concept of the Bodies Exhibit in South Street Seaport, across the Brooklyn Bridge in Manhattan. The exhibition is showing 22 real human bodies and 260 human organs and body parts. The design of the exhibit is very dark, making the entire walk it out process creepier and still quite astonishing. There are beams of light on the bodies, making them look like superstars; the more diffused light is on the writing. The actual humans, bodies, dead people, whatever, that lived those bodies are Chinese. Drama in the news says some of them may be executed Chinese prisoners.Those obviously with no consent they were going to end up as a tourist attraction. Wondering if their ghosts, or spirits were looming around, in all the deep black corners of the interior where the light did not shine, I picked my fingers nervously until my pointing finger began to bleed.
At the end of the entire exhibit they ask for written comments, and of course I couldn't resist I don't know why.
"Amazing show, thanks for teaching me so much! The effort and accomplishment is definitely seen throughout. However To see is to Believe, I don't know. There are plenty of things that we don't see but still believe in, even in our own bodies".

unwriten letters

I wanted to write you a letter, not an email, just a hand written letter. And even though and email would have spell check and all this mess, a real letter where I could draw, and use my hands that I love, to make you something intimate. However, I made a decision about this letter. I would write myself that letter. A human, honest letter. Long written about where I want to be in five years and who I am today. I think it's harder to see yourself in your own shoes. Asking yourself if your To Do list for the day, week or year was achieved; or if it matters in the end. We see the world, we're surrounded by these actual constructions and then these ideas, theories and opinions about it that sometimes look so intangible, or just amazingly unbelievable. Let's see how my letter works out, my writing and my life?

1:00 AM

How do you already know what you want, if you don't even know what exists?

If you never even lived?

How comfortable are you or how happy are you?

Why are morals only applied to women?

I know that’s not true.

and I’m just so frustrated with these fucking roles applied to men and women,

especially those who actually play them like mute chickens.

Bed-Stuy: 686 Willoughby

Sitting in Emilie's twin bed with Arleen, we began to look out the window from the fourteenth floor.
"Remember where we used to live?" I asked Arleen.
While the windows are huge and almost lifesize they framed the entire neighborhood.
"There." I said. Pointing to Willoughby and Myrtle; memories from a location of three years ago.
It's wonderful how people can communicate through histories of time and places. Even though distilled in our minds, like delusive realities, I know that we both have the image of a particular place, like a map, which we can associate to.
Arleen and I, we live in a different time and culture now.
But still, three, four years ago we didn't.
"You see where the birds are flying? That's where we used to live." I sad.
"686 Willoughby, Bedford-Stuyvesant".

how is your right hand doing?

" There is nothing real outside our perception of reality. Is there?"

images in blurry sequences

i like the way you work it.

Back in room 1413

Back in room 1413

This is writing that I just thought would fit right now; even though I wrote it in August, for my Directive Research Class.


As we began to enter into the space, it registered into my head that I finally had a place and space to myself; I wasn’t homeless, anymore. It was cold and empty. But we couldn’t resist the fact that we were all alone and my roommate, Emilie, had not yet arrived. The walls here were whiter than I remembered, and were pushing our voices back and forth. While the floor was dusty, I could see people’s traces very clearly; those of whom stayed here in the summertime, leaving behind their footprints and crumpled up ideas in the garbage can by the desk. As we began to infuse ourselves into my own space, we slowly sat in the crappy twin bed. It was then when the air turned thick and replete. We were closer than ever in some honest way. Still sitting on the bed, we climbed on each other. Isolating ourselves from that cold restrained space, and into what seemed like a utopia. Now here my eighty pounds of hair proudly waved. We were happy, and our dirty words in echoes were being pushed all around the area. I could see it in his face that he was happy, and so was I. It was an experience enriched with the questions of boundaries. I couldn’t deny how deviating this “private” moment was, and just how “public” we were making it; simply by leaving one door open. In the end though, it was an enchanting time for both of us. And as the walls came back into organized order, the room became ice, drowning back in silence once again.

Whistle

i bought a little book when I was nine
it would supposedly teach me how to whistle.
i know right.
i'm twenty- one and still can't whistle.
still sleeping in my bed last night it sucks that my neighbors lives so close
and their activity right next to me woke me up
it was streams of forced air and loud sounds
i'm curious to know if they know how far their voices like whistles can reach
Subsonic whistles have been developed for use as weapons, or to deliberately create a sense of uneasiness
now isn't that funny
even though it is unintentional, it's like they have subsonic whistles,
that they use at night.

invisible ghost lines

People never seize to amaze me. It's always the people I know which make the biggest moves. John Berger writes "seeing comes before words. The child looks and recognizes before it can speak." like intuition and in a another sense, we can do different things. Things that we don't recognize or relate to just now. No not now, but later.

your life plan _ _ _

Every person in your life is like a dot
There is always time for everything
There are people in this lifetime
That we should never meet
Cause to be here now without you, well,
My life's so incomplete
But in the end, you've taught me well
You've taught me enough. I'm glad to be so independent
we're walking free from all that mess
with our own "life plans".

we CAN change.

"WHILE I MAY NOT HAVE YOUR VOTE,
I HEAR YOUR VOICE,
AND I AM YOUR PRESIDENT TOO."




"Every other president was nothin' less than white
Except Thomas Jefferson and mixed Indian blood
and Calvin coolers
KKK is like 'what the fuck', loadin' they guns up
loadin' mine too, Ready to ride
Cause im ridin with my crew
He dies - we die too
But on a positive side,
I think Obama provides Hope - and challenges minds
Of all races and colors to erase the hate
And try and love one another, so many political snakes
We in need of a break
Im thinkin' I can trust this brotha"
--Nas

In the end we're all crazy.