literal traducciones

britney spears' hit me baby one more time = que me pegues una vez mas, por favor

do you love me, now that i can dance?

i had this grand plan while cleaning out my studio to leave all of my unwanted prints in a box outside for anyone to claim as wall art, collage material, etc etc. and then i realized that to road to graduating with a photo degree is lined with embarrassment. there are some photographs, especially those hailing from your first few rolls of film, that should never be seen. recurrent themes include: ex-boyfriends, your feet, shadows, and "feminist concepts". at the same time, there are a lot of incipient ideas which, i think, i regret not pursuing further in my haste to achieve some sort of photographic literacy. i'll probably spend the next few months mulling over these.

i saw her walking in the woods at night

when i have reached the coldest and most awesome summit /
my heart closes like a nocturnal flower

she keeps the pulpit stage of my heart

thinks about bodies and physical pain a lot. that the most profound existential experiences have been connected to being hit, being sexually thrown about, being held after the storm, crushing my body into yours at a concert in which the only thing we had in common was a coordinate in time and space.

the necessary conclusion is that once we've entered into a physical relationship, you and i, there's no turning back from this unspoken level of relation. there is no place for small talk. if i can't have sex with you, the only other option is to punch the living daylights out of you.

this is quite possibly what my 'o' face looks like

one of my first commissions! i may take the money and run out for a haircut. 21 years, and i have yet to make peace with my hair.

current project

i think i may start surreptitiously sneaking in as many pedro almodovar film titles as possible into regular conversation, bonus points if the conversacion esta conducida en espanyol.

examples:
"Crabcakes? What have I done to deserve this?!" [Que he hecho yo para merecer esto?, 1984]
"Mmm mmm, girl was shakin' like a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown." [Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios, 1988]
"Wouldn't you like to explore the flower of my secret?" [La flor de mi secreto, 1995]
"There's nothing I love more than trembling flesh." [Carne tremula, 1997]

i paid a dollar for kukicha tea?

never again will i be seduced by your oriental teas, macro mama's. never. but it kept me warm as i sat on the docks of cayuga lake on a chilled sunny day, taking in my weekly farmer's market.

there's a reason why i head for the cambodian food stall at the farmer's market unfailingly, every time. it is distanced enough from the generic brand of asian food to be novel and exciting while retaining all the qualities of tasting like home--home in the sense that you feel like you're tasting something embedded so deeply in a cultural memory you can't quite remember. elements of comfort food according to southeast asia:

-white rice. rice flour. rice noodles. rice anything. if you don't eat rice, you are probably sipping tea and thinking of conquering people who do.
-bean/root vegetable in a mushy/pasty form. ex. taro (mmm!), monk bean (yes!), red bean (ehhh).
-something rich and creamy, like peanuts or coconut milk.
-the suggestion that a wok was used in the making.
-slivered winter vegetables.
-glutinous dipping sauce.

a far cry from mashed potatoes and apple pie, or whatever floats the anglo boat. my khmer pancake lasted all of 5 minutes, and it was beautiful.