and try to put my heart into hers, for safekeeping, in case I lose it again.
----audrey niffenegger, the time-traveller's wife
something about postcards fascinate me-- us-- judging from how postsecret's "a contemporary art project that has turned into a cross-cultural phenomenon". i don't find them half as satisfying as nice long letters writ in longhand or cursive (would you believe in this day and age i had a penpal thing going for a while; more incongruously, it was with someone i met at a club. talk about strange), but there's something about the neat compaction and visual immediacy of a postcard.
combine that with the titillation of untold secrets, and voila-- postsecret. and even with a normal postcard-- the way it's open for all to read, a sharing of a worldview and an experience in transit--
good read, this-- so far at least, i'm still wading through it: http://www.bk.psu.edu/Documents/Academics/FromSouvenirtoSocialMovement.pdf
i've spent so long talking myself out of this that i wouldn't know what to believe if it were staring me in the face.
i'm not mad anymore incidentally! not after dance yesterday; how to stay mad with endorphins coursing through your veins. ellen finished teaching us her choreo, which only yuko can remember. there's a sense of something in the air-- like a breath, long held, released. we're going to do this! vetting wasn't the best and like krystal i forgot steps, but i am PSYCHED about practices and next week's string of performances. and nervous, but that's a given. i hope yuko liked her cake; the cream WAS a little overwhelming.
and have i ever mentioned how much i like this paula deanda song:
she's got green eyes and she's five-five
long brown hair all down her back
cadillac truck so the hell what
what's so special about that
she used to model she's done some acting
so she weighs a buck o'five
and i guess that she's alright if perfection's what you like
i'm not jealous no i'm not
i just want everything she's got
you look at her so amazed
i remember way back when you used to look at me that way
tell me what makes her so much better than me
what makes her just everything i can never be
what makes her your every dream and fantasy
because i can remember when it was me