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Durham, NC
located at 609 trent drive in the historic wild bull's pizza building, MoBo is home to two artists: joe galas and dianne freund. we host a variety of events: these are usually updated on our FB page. We are happy to share our space with others who wish to host their own events, public or private: see info below and please contact us for this. on FB: address below.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

thanks for playing

i'm revisiting a writing exercise for which i need your help. many things might be said or thought of this activity regarding discipline, work, play, stimuli, focus, creativity, interaction, etc.. ; i'd prefer to just do it (and invite you to join in as well! feel welcome to post your own writings if you desire.) i shall need three words a day: i'll choose among the words i've received the next time i check my account, and write extemporaneously for fifteen minutes, then quickly pare and post. it's fun. so: words, anyone? thanks for playing!

6 comments:

  1. apricot, sweat, window

    15 min : there have been times when that seemed an unendurable length.
    this is not i think to be one of those times. sitting at the window, the neighbors walk their dogs, trucks slow a little b4 bouncing over the speed bump, the windchimes are still or not . maybe there is a hummingbird feasting on the lantana: that is a certain kind of time. 
    one summer, for two weeks, every day i awoke, met a friend at the market, bought a sack each of two different kinds of apricots, had a coffee and toasted sweet bread at a cafe, walked to the windy beach for a run and then a swim. lying against the dunes to recover, being blasted by the sand, then eating those apricots, whose colors you can imagine. all that color fades...all that memory is loose, like a string, unravelling. 
    now a train is passing, the sound tricks and displaces me...it seems to come from just off the left corner of my roof, and not 1/2 mile away, the doppler effect, the whistle, the rumbling of the wheels on the rail. i walk that rail, collecting metal scraps; i practice balancing, i look straight ahead and move forward- the rail has a tilt, one's foot is not flat, and perfectly straight is not the way we usually walk with our feet. there are trails where homeless people and students cut across the bridge over the highway; a hole cut in one side of the fence and a climb over one on the other side of the bridge. the kind of sweat that overtakes you instantly from fear, that's the kind to listen to. what i fear: to make a serious error/ to miss something vital that could hurt someone. a totally different kind of sweat from activity, an old sweat, acrid, from a long day of labor, or musty sweat from a jaunt of exercise, that hot yoga sweat almost still water. when you listen to your sweat it suggests another way to go about it all. the sweat is the breath of the skin, how the skin makes wind.

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