'The rich get money but never what they want. Find ourselves a new place to haunt.'
1) Today, while staying after school to choreograph, I glanced up the stairway leading to the upstairs room and noticed the other door at the top of the stairs, the one that was always locked, was open. Virtually everyone had left by then to take advantage of the half day and I was alone in the room. I walked through the open door; the stairs continued upward, ending on an extra floor crowded with dusty pipes and machinery that whirred and burned off heat. A tiny window covered with a dust-bunny infested screen provided the bluish light of a piece of sky. All else was shadow. The ground was soft with dust.
2) A week or so earlier, staying after school again, I wrote "My love for you is more athletic than a verb -Anon." in big chalk letters on the side wall of the north gym. (I've since found out the line was by Sylvia Plath.) The action was partly for Poetry Club's attempt to put more poetry in unexpected places around the school and partly for the joy of instigating something lovely and surprising in itself. I passed the wall today and saw that it had been erased. It wasn't this that I minded, because here there are no bad outcomes - if it is erased, someone had seen it, if it stays, others may yet see it. I passed a spot further along the wall, however, and saw a nihilism-inducing line of used gum stuck in a groove between bricks. It was several feet long and lots of colors. Now that's just terrible. Someone sees poetry on a wall and gets rid of it, but leaves alone used gum on the same wall. It's alright, though; I'll smirk and feel even less deterred than before.
3) A couple of weeks ago, I was thinking of how every movement or cultural leaning has a backlash and how ripe the time was for a pro-intellectual backlash. This intersected with the idea of public installations, and suddenly I had a vision of light poles and bus windows bearing pieces of knowledge in the same vein as poetry excerpts or pretty words. This is what I am now doing. New and interesting vocabulary, relevant but little-known facts, studies with illuminating conclusions, all condensed to a sentence and pasted on light poles at major intersections. I think I'll try Post-Its on buses next.
4) I felt like the opposite of wanting to die today, something like being happy to live. I wish I could have you understand how much that means.
2) A week or so earlier, staying after school again, I wrote "My love for you is more athletic than a verb -Anon." in big chalk letters on the side wall of the north gym. (I've since found out the line was by Sylvia Plath.) The action was partly for Poetry Club's attempt to put more poetry in unexpected places around the school and partly for the joy of instigating something lovely and surprising in itself. I passed the wall today and saw that it had been erased. It wasn't this that I minded, because here there are no bad outcomes - if it is erased, someone had seen it, if it stays, others may yet see it. I passed a spot further along the wall, however, and saw a nihilism-inducing line of used gum stuck in a groove between bricks. It was several feet long and lots of colors. Now that's just terrible. Someone sees poetry on a wall and gets rid of it, but leaves alone used gum on the same wall. It's alright, though; I'll smirk and feel even less deterred than before.
3) A couple of weeks ago, I was thinking of how every movement or cultural leaning has a backlash and how ripe the time was for a pro-intellectual backlash. This intersected with the idea of public installations, and suddenly I had a vision of light poles and bus windows bearing pieces of knowledge in the same vein as poetry excerpts or pretty words. This is what I am now doing. New and interesting vocabulary, relevant but little-known facts, studies with illuminating conclusions, all condensed to a sentence and pasted on light poles at major intersections. I think I'll try Post-Its on buses next.
4) I felt like the opposite of wanting to die today, something like being happy to live. I wish I could have you understand how much that means.