ive been a dancer since i was three and a gymnast since about seven. these are only tiny parts of a whole span of days and hours and an entire set of other memories of firsts and lasts and all that, but despite the everything else, or even along with the everything else, the grace and movement of the body is a part of everything i do. breakups makeups the way girls can leave rooms, return to rooms, avoid rooms all together and the room is never the same. the way danielle rides her bike or how my mom pulls pans from the oven. how those boys roller skate together on sunday nights at soul skate and it seems so impossible the way they just float and pass through one another like ghosts.
i wake up at 5a everyday, even if i am still drunk on whiskey, i wake up and practice ballet. i wake up and drink black coffee and want to puke just from the standing, but even when i know that the day wants to be rotten, that the sky is grey and that during those few hours of sleep i have missed the most absurd messages and calls, despite all of that and any shape that the day wants to take, i think that hell, if i woke up and started the day alone and in my own way, if my body is still here and can still find its heart and my mind can still move it, then everything is fine. then nothing can touch me. i am a peacock. say what you want. our lives are a small thing getting smaller and we are lucky if we know anything to love or anyone who loves us. and it all seems like chance anyway to happen on anything good. even if you’re a rotten old thing, it is still your chance to happen on something good. good is rotten anyway. we are all awake for this. at least for the most part.