STARVED SURVIVORS
Once upon a time, a very, very long time ago, in a very, very verdant green Italian village, there lived a girl child, an orphan girl child. All the other girls who lived there had long, thick, dark hair, olive skin, world-sharpened eyes and a freed up throat that could scream, yell, talk and cry. Orphan Girl, who was almost a mute, had blond hair, green eyes and as a cultural outsider, was shunned by her classmates who called her Orphan Girl. The name echoed in the mountains, "Orphan Girl, Orphan Girl, where are you?" She went into the forest, sat with the trees and flowers, drank cafe late from a thermos that she always carried and wrote nice words on the surface of a mountain stream, loving it when they instantly disappeared.
Of course, like in every fairytale, there is someone who represents wisdom and in this story, the deus-ex-machina is a wizened, wrinkled, long skirted, foul smelling, crabby, bent, rough talking but truth telling woman elder. Was she really a woman? It was hard to tell because her features had glued themselves together-----her nose to her chin, almost; her eyebrows to her cheeks, almost; her toenails grew into the bottoms of her crusty feet, almost. The gossipy villagers called her lots of names: witch, strega, bad news, nuscience, bother, charity case, pest, liability, and on and on...but for Orphan Girl she was a refuge and like-minded soulmate.
For the beauty of this story, let's give this elder an extraordinary gift and talent....it seemed simple and was nameless and it was that she could tell when the train which stopped in her village was 33 miles away and with her acute sensitivity she predicted the exact time the train would arrive at the station. Of course this savant knowing and sensing was so non-consequential that it impressed no-one but Orphan Girl. Who wants to listen for a train by putting your ear to the earth? Not a very practical skill!
Of course, she passed on this pedestrian knowledge to Orphan Girl but hidden beneath this simple circus-like-act was something more spectacular, something more usefull..a secret knowledge she handed onto Orphan Girl one rainy November day when the veil between life and death; the veil between truth and ignorance; the veil between suffering and happiness is very thin.
Here's how it happened: they were sitting in front of an open-pit fire, poking sticks at the embers, and the elder said: " Today is the day for me to tell you the complete story. Yes, I listen for when trains are near but also I know when they have wrecked. I know when trains have wrecked 700 miles away and Orphan Girl , it is important to know that life has many , many , many train wrecks because life is about change, vulnerability, flux, unpredictability, old age, sickness and death. You think you have it bad, being an orphan but I want to tell you the whole story about other weird and terrible things that have happened, might happen and could happen. Close your eyes and I will read you a story that I call: ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS A TRAIN WRECK. Shhhhh. Let's listen."
__________________________________________________________________________________
ENTER
Admittedly we are all sensing a pre-renaissance black-out, a "dark age" with recognizable and historically accurate symptoms witnessed by historians of the fall (and/or transformation) of other dynasties teetering on the brink of armageddon.(The Roman ,Ottoman, German, British Empires perchance?)
BREAK
Can't we all agree that in this 21st century, we are communally experiencing a bad taste and aftermaths from universally experienced phenomena such as:
CIRCLE 475 PHENOMENON
Financial fumblings, cultural buffooneries, pervasive paranoia, modified mea culpas, bipartisan shenanigans, uncompassed morality, bipaped starvations, political circus acts, theological tsunamis, global tamperings, cyclical catastrophes, faux apologies, misleading marketing, conspicuous consuming, muddled multitasking, apocalyptic battering, padded documenting, salted wounding, power shifting, self loathing, hierarchical covering, pious grandstanding, spasmed tremoring, bankrupted dreaming, disintegrated remembering, virtual relating, techno crazing, outrageous compensating, congressional bullying and foreclosed trust!
CIRCLE 189 PHENOMENON
Diseased despondents, surrendered suicidals, unheld newborns, hooded jihadists, fundamental fanatics, antsy therapists, inattentive nannies, selfish narcissists, bonused buddies, media darlings, unconscienced thieves, suffocating egoists, discarded seniors, trafficked innocents, self inflicting terrorists, vulnerable victims, jolly junkies, over dutiful daughters, celebrity addicts, killer drones, spiritual materialists, scheming CEOs, interminable visitors, jealous sisters, stubborn students, lying boasters, ungrateful patients, cyber bullies, skeletoned anorexics, emotional mutes, nasty narcissists and miserable millionaires!
CIRCLE 362 PHENOMENON
Creepy oppressors, hypersexual prowlers, Holocaust deniers, death cheaters, begging borrowers, scud sharp shooters, carbon foot printers, attention mongers, greedy brokers, depressed designers, public apologizers, prepared preppers, subcutaneous cutters, sophomoric obsessors, inappropriate responders, furious professors, tormenting victimizers, parent starvers, neurotic neighbors, reputation slanderers, magnetic womanizers, surprise attackers, glad handers, halitosed dancers, grid locked commuters, grieving skaters, arrogant outsiders, soul sellers, gift refusers, aggressive reporters, sloppy visitors, pill stealers, animal abhorrers, hate disseminators, stinky passengers, authority balkers, sloppy foodmakers, name callers, energy suckers, germ spreaders, information secretors, junk hoarders, saccrine sympathizers, sweaty hand shakers, misguided worshippers, internet scammers, morphed murderers, obese outsiders, child abusers, frozen floormatters, dysfunctional reconfigurers, beauty kidnappers, unread biographers, gender assaulters, monumental mistakers, satanic afflicters, silent contemptors, counterindicated elders, hungry survivors, childhood stealers, guilted enjoyers, ponzi schemers, medical compromisers, careless caregivers, enraged partners, jailed minors, paralyzed players, unemployed loners, adulterous trespassers, vaccinated teenagers, double crossed informers, technological traumatizers, disabling humiliators, monetary misusers and nose pickers!
SHIFT
Oh, our poor bodies/minds are dodging the toxic arrows of it all! Dodging thoughts about pcb's and thoughts of no more potable water or no more fish or ice-sliding-glaciered polar bears! Thoughts about what to do about our arthritic thumbs twittered to spasm. Thoughts about ourselves and the suffering others! Not only thoughts but also memories of once looking in the mirror at our faces sweetly smiling back with innocent anticipation of a McDonalds. NO MORE. In preparation for a post-modern re-look at Revelationed-robotization, our current faces are facebooked/addicted into social shyness, not to be relieved by a 1970's Kumbayaah singing picnic on a green, chemical free lawn. That chapter is closed, my friend.
DELETE
Now, our poor bodies, steel-tight with earthquaked fear of the next day's news or trembling over the calories and sugar content of the morning's Starbucks or tripping out of buildings quickly when rumblings at yet another fault-line are recognized by sensitive dogs,....our battered bodies.... run on PTSD/empty seeking refuge in second-lifed, C-PAPED-accompanied nightmares.
HIDE
But wait, out of this harrowing scenario of a reality show gone bad, comes Hope?
SHIFT
PAUSE
______________________________________________________________________
The fairytale ends here and the old woman said, "That's it, Orphan Girl, you know the whole story. Now open your eyes and your voice and don't ever be surprised again when you encounter a life-wreck. They happen all the time and you are prepared, never to be surprised when strange things happen in your life." Orphan Girl was elated, glad she had been taught these important secrets and danced the OPEN HEART VOICE DANCE, around the fire.
That night, at 8pm, they both slept with their ears to the earth, in silent preparation for the next train to come.
The beginning of an end.
LINDA MARY MONTANO, 2010 Saugerties, NY
Friday, November 4, 2011
Thursday, November 3, 2011
MONEY IS GREEN TOO MANIFESTO
1. ALMOST ALL MONEY IS PAPER. THINK TWICE BEFORE CREATING A WAY TO SPEND MORE&MORE MONEY BECAUSE THEN YOU COMPROMISE A TREE.
2. SOME MONEY IS IN THE FORM OF PLASTIC CARDS. THINK TWICE BEFORE CREATING A PERSONAL NEED TO HAVE MORE TOXIC PLASTIC IN YOUR LIFE.
3. CREDIT CARDS ARE TO BE SEEN AS EQUIVALENCIES. THAT IS, IF WHAT IS VISUALIZED INSIDE THE CARD AS A REAL ASSET IS TRULY THERE, THEN USE THE CARD. IF WHAT IS VISUALIZED INSIDE THE CARD IS A PROBABILITY, THEN DON'T USE THE CARD.
4. MONETARILY DO UNTO OTHERS AS WAS DONE BY OUR GRANDFATHERS. THAT IS, OUR FATHERS AND GRANDFATHERS SPENT ONLY WHAT THEY HAD. FOLLOW THEIR EXAMPLE. IF YOU DON'T HAVE IT, DON'T SPEND IT.
5. DO UNTO OTHERS AS YOU WANT DONE UNTO YOU. BEFORE YOU MAX OUT A CARD, THINK OF THE TRIED AND TRUE AMERICAN WORKING THREE JOBS TO PAY OFF YOUR MONETARY EXCESSES. SPEND THREE MINUTES A DAY BEING SOMEBODY ELSE. THAT IS, BE THIS PERSON WITH 3 JOBS IN YOUR IMAGINATION AND THEN DECIDE WHAT TO DO.
6. THE GOVERNMENT IS HYPNOTIZING US TO BE FINANCIALLY CARELESS, EXCESSIVE AND IRRESPONSIBLE. IT IS A PLOY AND WAY FOR THEM TO THEN DO A POLITICAL INTERVENTION AND PUNISHMENT THAT HAS CONSEQUENCES THAT ARE TO BE FEARED.
7. "I WILL MAX OUT MY CARD BECAUSE I'M TERMINALLY ILL" IS A MONEY SIN AKIN TO ANYTHING YOU MIGHT CONSIDER A SIN IN YOUR INDIVIDUAL CONSCIENCE. WHY? BECAUSE SOMEBODY'S HARD WORKING BROTHER WILL HAVE TO EVENTUALLY PAY FOR YOUR DEBTS.
7. BANKRUPTCY IS THE INQUISITION OF THE MIDDLE CLASS: THE "WORKER" TAKES UP THE SLACK OF THE "WANTER".
8. DO ONLY WHAT YOU CAN AFFORD.
9. WANT ONLY WHAT YOU CAN AFFORD. IF YOU HAVE ENOUGH MONEY AND HAVE BECOME AN ADDICTED WANTER, THEN ASK, WHY WANT?
10. TRANSLATED, THAT SAYS: ASK, WHY DO I WANT WHAT I HAVE BEEN HYPNOTIZED TO WANT?
11. STOP IMAGINING YOU HAVE MONEY WHEN YOU DON'T. IF YOU DON'T HAVE MONEY, GET A JOB AND LIVE IN A WAY THAT SUPPORTS YOU, NOT A WAY THAT SUPPORTS A HABIT THAT IS AN ELITIST AFFRONT TO YOUR SOUL.
12. MONEY IS ONE OF LIFE'S TABOOS LIKE SEX, DEATH. MONEY IS IN THE PROCESS OF BEING DE-TABOOED, BUT IS NOW AT THE LAUGHINGSTOCK/FOOL STAGE OF DE-CONSTRUCTION. BY TAKING MONEY SERIOUSLY, IT WILL BE RE-INSTATED TO ITS PREVIOUS POSITION OF RESPECT/ KIND-CARE AND WILL HAVE SURVIVED THE TEST OF TABOO.
13. ASK: ARE LOVE AND MONEY OXYMORONONIC OR CONGRUENT? WHAT ABOUT COMMODIFIED/SATISFIED? SUSTAINABLE/WASTEFUL? BARTER/BUY? GENEROUS/HOARDING?
14. THERE ARE 867,000 WAYS OF INTERPRETING POVERTY/LIVING WITHIN YOUR MEANS. RESEARCH THE TOPIC.
15. THANK YOUR HIGHER POWER FOR THE INVISIBLE RICHES IN LIFE, NOT THE ONES THAT CAN BE BOUGHT.
LINDA MARY MONTANO, MAY 21, 2011
1. ALMOST ALL MONEY IS PAPER. THINK TWICE BEFORE CREATING A WAY TO SPEND MORE&MORE MONEY BECAUSE THEN YOU COMPROMISE A TREE.
2. SOME MONEY IS IN THE FORM OF PLASTIC CARDS. THINK TWICE BEFORE CREATING A PERSONAL NEED TO HAVE MORE TOXIC PLASTIC IN YOUR LIFE.
3. CREDIT CARDS ARE TO BE SEEN AS EQUIVALENCIES. THAT IS, IF WHAT IS VISUALIZED INSIDE THE CARD AS A REAL ASSET IS TRULY THERE, THEN USE THE CARD. IF WHAT IS VISUALIZED INSIDE THE CARD IS A PROBABILITY, THEN DON'T USE THE CARD.
4. MONETARILY DO UNTO OTHERS AS WAS DONE BY OUR GRANDFATHERS. THAT IS, OUR FATHERS AND GRANDFATHERS SPENT ONLY WHAT THEY HAD. FOLLOW THEIR EXAMPLE. IF YOU DON'T HAVE IT, DON'T SPEND IT.
5. DO UNTO OTHERS AS YOU WANT DONE UNTO YOU. BEFORE YOU MAX OUT A CARD, THINK OF THE TRIED AND TRUE AMERICAN WORKING THREE JOBS TO PAY OFF YOUR MONETARY EXCESSES. SPEND THREE MINUTES A DAY BEING SOMEBODY ELSE. THAT IS, BE THIS PERSON WITH 3 JOBS IN YOUR IMAGINATION AND THEN DECIDE WHAT TO DO.
6. THE GOVERNMENT IS HYPNOTIZING US TO BE FINANCIALLY CARELESS, EXCESSIVE AND IRRESPONSIBLE. IT IS A PLOY AND WAY FOR THEM TO THEN DO A POLITICAL INTERVENTION AND PUNISHMENT THAT HAS CONSEQUENCES THAT ARE TO BE FEARED.
7. "I WILL MAX OUT MY CARD BECAUSE I'M TERMINALLY ILL" IS A MONEY SIN AKIN TO ANYTHING YOU MIGHT CONSIDER A SIN IN YOUR INDIVIDUAL CONSCIENCE. WHY? BECAUSE SOMEBODY'S HARD WORKING BROTHER WILL HAVE TO EVENTUALLY PAY FOR YOUR DEBTS.
7. BANKRUPTCY IS THE INQUISITION OF THE MIDDLE CLASS: THE "WORKER" TAKES UP THE SLACK OF THE "WANTER".
8. DO ONLY WHAT YOU CAN AFFORD.
9. WANT ONLY WHAT YOU CAN AFFORD. IF YOU HAVE ENOUGH MONEY AND HAVE BECOME AN ADDICTED WANTER, THEN ASK, WHY WANT?
10. TRANSLATED, THAT SAYS: ASK, WHY DO I WANT WHAT I HAVE BEEN HYPNOTIZED TO WANT?
11. STOP IMAGINING YOU HAVE MONEY WHEN YOU DON'T. IF YOU DON'T HAVE MONEY, GET A JOB AND LIVE IN A WAY THAT SUPPORTS YOU, NOT A WAY THAT SUPPORTS A HABIT THAT IS AN ELITIST AFFRONT TO YOUR SOUL.
12. MONEY IS ONE OF LIFE'S TABOOS LIKE SEX, DEATH. MONEY IS IN THE PROCESS OF BEING DE-TABOOED, BUT IS NOW AT THE LAUGHINGSTOCK/FOOL STAGE OF DE-CONSTRUCTION. BY TAKING MONEY SERIOUSLY, IT WILL BE RE-INSTATED TO ITS PREVIOUS POSITION OF RESPECT/ KIND-CARE AND WILL HAVE SURVIVED THE TEST OF TABOO.
13. ASK: ARE LOVE AND MONEY OXYMORONONIC OR CONGRUENT? WHAT ABOUT COMMODIFIED/SATISFIED? SUSTAINABLE/WASTEFUL? BARTER/BUY? GENEROUS/HOARDING?
14. THERE ARE 867,000 WAYS OF INTERPRETING POVERTY/LIVING WITHIN YOUR MEANS. RESEARCH THE TOPIC.
15. THANK YOUR HIGHER POWER FOR THE INVISIBLE RICHES IN LIFE, NOT THE ONES THAT CAN BE BOUGHT.
LINDA MARY MONTANO, MAY 21, 2011
WRITINGS FROM FRED POOLES CLASS 2011
1.SECRET
Dear Brain,
You keep me in you.
His face red? I don't remember.
His clothes black? I don't remember.
He walked where he is supposed to walk,next to me on the side of traffic, holding my hand? I don't remember.
Believe it or not, it was this same street? I don't remember.
Was there a mailbox to our left? I don't remember.
Does he talk softly? I don't remember.
Did I believe him when he said,"If I was to kill a little girl, I would cut her up into little pieces and stuff her body into a mail box."
Was I shaking then? I don't remember.
I shake now.
SHAKE, SHAKE, SHAKE
SHAKE, SHAKE, SHAKE
SHAKE, SHAKE, SHAKE
I REMEMBER,
Love, Linda
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
2. AN IMPOSSIBLE SITUATION
front steps dot dot dot BREAKING
cellar floor dot dot dot FLOODING
green lawn dot dot dot POISONING
house foundation dot dot dot LISTING
wall paper dot dot dot SCALDING
outside paint dot dot dot PEELING
their bedroom dot dot dot SMELLING
kitchen chairs dot dot dot SCREAMING
inside ghosts dot dot dot WALKING
me dot dot dot CRYING
GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!!!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
3. SOMETHING HAPPENED
4 2 weeks he watched.......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched.....AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched.......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched.......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched.......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched.......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
WHITE OUT
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
4. NO TIME LEFT
HEY LADY!!!!!! hair's thinning
HEY LADY!!!!! watch out, you're tripping
HEY LADY!!!!! coffee's spilling
HEY LADY!!!!! don't kiss, breath's stinking
HEY LADY!!!!! check book's unbalancing
HEY LADY!!!!! bone's hurting
HEY LADY!!!!! skin's wrinkling
HEY LADY!!!! WAKE UP!!!!! YOU'RE DYING!!!!
HEY LADY, STOP LAUGHING, HA HA HA, YOU'RE DYING
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
5. WAITING
Have you ever met someone and mutually, immediately, exchanged bodies, minds, memories, eyes, liquids, and fires
with him?
Even though he was only 20 glowing planets away from my left shoulder, smells of his wife's extra strength TIDE
travelled nose to nose.
Have you ever tasted unguilted saliva suctioned into staglited hungry caves?
Have you ever forgotten how to wait and chosen instead to google then buy sandalwood oil imported from India?
WHAT'S THE COST?
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
6. A REAL LIFE SONG
PRAY FOR MY CNA, O LORD, PRAY FOR MY CNA
PRAY FOR MY CNA , OH LORD, PRAY FOR MY CNA
SHE COMES TO THE HOME EVERYDAY
45 OF US TO LOVE
SHE BRINGS US LIGHT, WE NEVER PAY
SHES A GIFT FROM UP ABOVE
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD, PRAY FOR MY CNA
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD, PRAY FOR MY CNA
WE CALL AND SHOUT NURSE NURSE COME HERE
FOR EVERY BODILY NEED
I'VE GOT THE BEDPAN DEAR DON'T FEAR
AND THEN 45 MOUTH'S I'LL FEED
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD OH LORD
PRAY FOR MY CNA
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD, PRAY FOR MY CNA
SOME SCREAM AND SHOUT EVERY NIGHT
IN SWEATY HALLUCINATIONS
MORALS, TEETH, AND HAIR ARE GONE
THE DARK STEALS TREPIDATION
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD
PRAY FOR MY CNA
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD,
PRAY FOR MY CNA
BODIES NOW BONES
PORES ARE STINKING
HOLOCAUSTED INTO SLIME
MY DEATH SKULL ROARS
THERE IS NO MORE
GOODBYE OH GHOST OF TIME!!!!!
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD
PRAY FOR MY CNA
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD, PRAY FOR MY CNA
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
7. ONE SENTENCE
She sweatily hands out copious copies
of zeroxed dribble,
sharing a passion for paper, not trees.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
8. REAL LIFE STORY
LETTER TO SENIOR EXERCISE TEACHER IN PHILDELPHIA
DEAR LEONORA,
Obviously your class is extremely well endowed by the US Government because they provide free PHYSICAL THERAPY membership to some elders so that we can move, stay well and don't financially burden medicare/medicaid or our supplementalS with payments for ills that come from non-preventive health maintenance. For some strange reason, my insurance companies don't play this free game with me and I pay 300$ a year at this RESOURCE CENTER.
Money aside and back to the class titled MOVE IT OR LOSE IT.....each exercise is designed and engineered to help old people maintain flexibility on and off ice, balance in the kitchen, arm strength to dress/undress/cook/shop and 5000 other skills that healthy 40 year olds take for granted.
You expertly transmit all of these pre-designed movements accurately and correctly but this is my concern which I have previously communicated to you at least 10 times! Yes it is about VOLUME! SOUND! LOUDNESS! MUSIC! TONE OF VOICE! I feel repetitively embarrassed to come over and over to the front of the class to say , "CAN YOU PLEASE LOWER THE VOLUME OF YOUR MUSIC?" And it is becoming clownish of me to keep gesturing from my "EXERCISE SAFELY CHAIR" while waiving my arms and signing, "TURN IT DOWN, TURN IT DOWN , TURN IT DOWN!!!!"
Leonora, I think you must be a written word learner and not an aural learner or listener. So, HERE IT IS!!!!!! IN WRITING..... PLEASE TURN DOWN NOT ONLY THE VOLUME OF YOUR MUSIC BUT THE VOLUME OF YOUR VOICE. I responsibly wear ear plugs to class but LET ME SHOUT...YOUR CLASS IS STILL TOO LOUD FOR ME!!!!CAN YOU TURN IT DOWN?
Your students are in their 50's, 60's, 70's, 80's, 90's and have lived through life/deaths/accidents/betrayals/debilitating losses/dementia/alzheimers/sagging skin/depression/ disillusionment/diarrhea/constipation/falls/brain injuries and a gazillion other life wrongs. And there are lots of rights! We are social workers/doctors/mystics/lawyers/fathers/mothers/nurses/entrepreneurs/teachers/meditators/cooks/writers/black belts/functioning volunteers/artists/lovers and care giving friends.
So please use your inside voice with us and be assured that you don't have to infantilize us or cheerlead us back to life. We are alive. STILL. Softly teach this wonderful class and we promise to breathe very kind gratitude to you in return.
In my silent voice,
A participating elder
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Dear Brain,
You keep me in you.
His face red? I don't remember.
His clothes black? I don't remember.
He walked where he is supposed to walk,next to me on the side of traffic, holding my hand? I don't remember.
Believe it or not, it was this same street? I don't remember.
Was there a mailbox to our left? I don't remember.
Does he talk softly? I don't remember.
Did I believe him when he said,"If I was to kill a little girl, I would cut her up into little pieces and stuff her body into a mail box."
Was I shaking then? I don't remember.
I shake now.
SHAKE, SHAKE, SHAKE
SHAKE, SHAKE, SHAKE
SHAKE, SHAKE, SHAKE
I REMEMBER,
Love, Linda
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
2. AN IMPOSSIBLE SITUATION
front steps dot dot dot BREAKING
cellar floor dot dot dot FLOODING
green lawn dot dot dot POISONING
house foundation dot dot dot LISTING
wall paper dot dot dot SCALDING
outside paint dot dot dot PEELING
their bedroom dot dot dot SMELLING
kitchen chairs dot dot dot SCREAMING
inside ghosts dot dot dot WALKING
me dot dot dot CRYING
GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!!!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
3. SOMETHING HAPPENED
4 2 weeks he watched.......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched.....AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched.......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched.......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched.......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
4 2 weeks he watched.......AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
WHITE OUT
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
4. NO TIME LEFT
HEY LADY!!!!!! hair's thinning
HEY LADY!!!!! watch out, you're tripping
HEY LADY!!!!! coffee's spilling
HEY LADY!!!!! don't kiss, breath's stinking
HEY LADY!!!!! check book's unbalancing
HEY LADY!!!!! bone's hurting
HEY LADY!!!!! skin's wrinkling
HEY LADY!!!! WAKE UP!!!!! YOU'RE DYING!!!!
HEY LADY, STOP LAUGHING, HA HA HA, YOU'RE DYING
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
5. WAITING
Have you ever met someone and mutually, immediately, exchanged bodies, minds, memories, eyes, liquids, and fires
with him?
Even though he was only 20 glowing planets away from my left shoulder, smells of his wife's extra strength TIDE
travelled nose to nose.
Have you ever tasted unguilted saliva suctioned into staglited hungry caves?
Have you ever forgotten how to wait and chosen instead to google then buy sandalwood oil imported from India?
WHAT'S THE COST?
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
6. A REAL LIFE SONG
PRAY FOR MY CNA, O LORD, PRAY FOR MY CNA
PRAY FOR MY CNA , OH LORD, PRAY FOR MY CNA
SHE COMES TO THE HOME EVERYDAY
45 OF US TO LOVE
SHE BRINGS US LIGHT, WE NEVER PAY
SHES A GIFT FROM UP ABOVE
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD, PRAY FOR MY CNA
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD, PRAY FOR MY CNA
WE CALL AND SHOUT NURSE NURSE COME HERE
FOR EVERY BODILY NEED
I'VE GOT THE BEDPAN DEAR DON'T FEAR
AND THEN 45 MOUTH'S I'LL FEED
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD OH LORD
PRAY FOR MY CNA
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD, PRAY FOR MY CNA
SOME SCREAM AND SHOUT EVERY NIGHT
IN SWEATY HALLUCINATIONS
MORALS, TEETH, AND HAIR ARE GONE
THE DARK STEALS TREPIDATION
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD
PRAY FOR MY CNA
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD,
PRAY FOR MY CNA
BODIES NOW BONES
PORES ARE STINKING
HOLOCAUSTED INTO SLIME
MY DEATH SKULL ROARS
THERE IS NO MORE
GOODBYE OH GHOST OF TIME!!!!!
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD
PRAY FOR MY CNA
PRAY FOR MY CNA OH LORD, PRAY FOR MY CNA
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
7. ONE SENTENCE
She sweatily hands out copious copies
of zeroxed dribble,
sharing a passion for paper, not trees.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
8. REAL LIFE STORY
LETTER TO SENIOR EXERCISE TEACHER IN PHILDELPHIA
DEAR LEONORA,
Obviously your class is extremely well endowed by the US Government because they provide free PHYSICAL THERAPY membership to some elders so that we can move, stay well and don't financially burden medicare/medicaid or our supplementalS with payments for ills that come from non-preventive health maintenance. For some strange reason, my insurance companies don't play this free game with me and I pay 300$ a year at this RESOURCE CENTER.
Money aside and back to the class titled MOVE IT OR LOSE IT.....each exercise is designed and engineered to help old people maintain flexibility on and off ice, balance in the kitchen, arm strength to dress/undress/cook/shop and 5000 other skills that healthy 40 year olds take for granted.
You expertly transmit all of these pre-designed movements accurately and correctly but this is my concern which I have previously communicated to you at least 10 times! Yes it is about VOLUME! SOUND! LOUDNESS! MUSIC! TONE OF VOICE! I feel repetitively embarrassed to come over and over to the front of the class to say , "CAN YOU PLEASE LOWER THE VOLUME OF YOUR MUSIC?" And it is becoming clownish of me to keep gesturing from my "EXERCISE SAFELY CHAIR" while waiving my arms and signing, "TURN IT DOWN, TURN IT DOWN , TURN IT DOWN!!!!"
Leonora, I think you must be a written word learner and not an aural learner or listener. So, HERE IT IS!!!!!! IN WRITING..... PLEASE TURN DOWN NOT ONLY THE VOLUME OF YOUR MUSIC BUT THE VOLUME OF YOUR VOICE. I responsibly wear ear plugs to class but LET ME SHOUT...YOUR CLASS IS STILL TOO LOUD FOR ME!!!!CAN YOU TURN IT DOWN?
Your students are in their 50's, 60's, 70's, 80's, 90's and have lived through life/deaths/accidents/betrayals/debilitating losses/dementia/alzheimers/sagging skin/depression/ disillusionment/diarrhea/constipation/falls/brain injuries and a gazillion other life wrongs. And there are lots of rights! We are social workers/doctors/mystics/lawyers/fathers/mothers/nurses/entrepreneurs/teachers/meditators/cooks/writers/black belts/functioning volunteers/artists/lovers and care giving friends.
So please use your inside voice with us and be assured that you don't have to infantilize us or cheerlead us back to life. We are alive. STILL. Softly teach this wonderful class and we promise to breathe very kind gratitude to you in return.
In my silent voice,
A participating elder
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
WRITINGS, LINDA MARY MONTANO 2011
1. SELF PORTRAIT
1942: BENEDICTINE HOSPITAL, KINGSTON NY & SAUGERTIES NY.......................................JUST TIME
1959: NEW ROCHELLE, NY....................................................................................................JUST TIME
1960: OSSINING, NY..............................................................................................................JUST TIME
1962: TOPSFIELD MASS..........................................................................................................JUST TIME
1963-65: OSSINING NY............................................................................................................JUST TIME
1966: FLORENCE ITALY............................................................................................................JUST TIME
1966-69: MADISON WISCONSIN..................................................................................................JUST TIME
1969-70: ROCHESTER NY..............................................................................................................JUST TIME
1971-81: CALIFORNIA....................................................................................................................JUST TIME
1981-91: NY STATE.........................................................................................................................JUST TIME
1991-98: TEXAS...............................................................................................................................JUST TIME
1998-PRESENT: ULSTER COUNTY.......................................................................................................JUST TIME
*******************************************************************************************************************************************************
2. I REMEMBER
" The ability to hold onto a piece of information in order to complete a task is specifically human. It causes certain regions of the brain to become
very active in particular, the frontal lobe,....which is highly developed in humans and is the reason we have such high, upright foreheads. Human
memory is acomplex phenomenom and involves other regions of the brain as well. Information is transferred from short term memory to long
term memory through the hippocampus,so named because it's shape resembles the curved tail of a seahorse(hippocampus in Greek.) The
hippocampus is a very old part of the cortex evolutionally and is located in the inner fold of the temporal lobe. Information is decoded in the
various sensory areas of the cortex then converges in the hippocampus which then sends them back from where they come from. We past
memories through the hippocampus several times....strengthen the associations , and then the cortex will have learned to reconstruct what we
call a memory."
Once she heard a story about a 12 year old girl who, while drawing a picture of an old Asian man from a book, remembered knowing him.
From where? A dream? Someplace else? Some other life? (Not a very Catholic explanation.)
Then 20 years later, she literally and truly met him, the same Asian man. Almost fainting, this real-time recognition was beyond the cortex.
********************************************************************************************************************************************************
3.BABY
A dream, flashback, past life? She walks east. A busy small village. Where? A tiny, adorable, cute, sweet, endearing 4 year old boy runs to her.
Brown skin. Another culture. A foreign country. Unaware of cars. Focused. One pointed. Wants to run to her. Why? Can hearts evolve from stone
to flesh in 3 seconds?Anatomically impossible but hers did. Adrenals propelled, eyes binoculared out of her head,silently shouting or maybe audibly,
"Baby, baby. Stop! Cars Cars Cars! Watch out." Fishing for languages she improvisatorily creates, she shouts, "Arete! Aiuto! Attende!" Nothing works.
Winded but frozen in place, her body morphs into Mother Love. My dream baby's 8 year old brother or cousin follows but the babitos pace is beyond
time and cosmically set, not to be matched.
Willing cars,trucks, vans,motorcycles, bikes and ambulances to be banned from the premises by some unseen force, he powers through the parted
sea of cars as potential killers into her arms. She kneels, absolves him, holds him at least in her mind, shakes him and tries 400 new languages to
teach Mother Law 101 to curb his instinct to innocence. "Dangeroso, dangeroso she moans. Dont you ever, ever, ever run away like that again.
Do you hear me?" By then younger brother and company are there translating my dnagerosos to periculosos, periculosos or maybe it is the other
way around. "Where's your real mother", I ask and the real is in silence. More commotion and a crazed with worry 16 year old babysitting aunt and
her friend breathlessly chant the same message, "Periculoso, periculoso, muy muy periculoso", and then THE MIRACLE! Time stopsand without
looking even to the sky to confirm his message, beauty babito baby point to his left and sings, "RAINBOW, RAINBOW!!",diverting his captive loves
from yet another almost 911 real time tear in the middle of the sorrow chest. Certainly diverting me from the coudha, wouldha, shouldhas mind to
instant rapture, and a harboring of new beginnings. As angel son and company concur and stop rescuing....rainbow, rainbow, they head west, I
north, but ever the magician he looks back at me with yet another translated by his cousin prophecy/warning,"Are you going home?"
********************************************************************************************************************************************************
4.MORNING
She knows how to give good gifts. Quality was always a 10, durability factored in, even if it was mail ordered. Nothing cheap, including the
clock they gave me maybe 10, maybe 15 years ago.... a travel alarm, because I was always on the road. Thoughtful gifts. An emergency kit
for my car one year when it seemed I was living in it. And then they ran out of ideas, energy, unable to remember who I am or what I do
so this past Christmas I aksed for something recycled, in fact she had mentioned she had a cassette recorder and I said, "That would be great,
i'd love that." But when they cleaned the cellar and found it, mold, mildew, dust and a barry Manilow tape or something else equally dispicable,
clogged it forever. So via ebay, or cragslist or Wikipedia, or QVC, via Taiwan, Istanbul, or maybe Beijing she found a duplicate Sony knock off
version which I actually use as a defense against the ipad/blackberry/blueberry/iphone/kindle/digital camera and robot caregiver.
This morning, I responded to the sound of the 15 year old gift that has never had a battery change but now flutters for 30 seconds before it
offers a polite European-like wake up call to this traveller who now prefers journeying in the silence of the dark night.
*********************************************************************************************************************************************************
5.THE 39 INCH RULER
Thirty-six inbches long/yellow-golden/aged/smeared with wear/readable numbers:
1.blackout
2.remember
3.remember
4.blackout
5.blackout
6.remember
7.blackout
8.blackout
9.remember
10.remember
11.remember
12.blackout
13.remember
14.blackout
15.blackout
16.remember
17.remember
18.blackout
19.remember
20.blackout
21.remember
22.blackout
23.remember
24.remember
25.remember
26.remember
27.blackout
28.blackout
29.remember
30.remember
31.remember
32.remember
33.remember
34.remember
35.blackout
Then it says 3, not 36. Where's the 6? But there are lines and words: Amos Post INC.,Petroleum Products, Catskill 278. Smell? Taste? No, but it elicits
immediate and constant flashbacks: Dad, where are you? Tell Grandpa I'm really, really, really ,really sad and sorry I didn't say a proper goodbye and
apologize. He knows what I am saying. But maybe he's sad too? The story is that when Grandma woke up from being sick with the 1918 Spanish Flu,
he had to tell her it killed their 3 year old only daughter and sister of 5 brothers. Did he hand Grandma a rumored photo of her in a child's coffin?
Aunt Uula, after that your mom sat mute for hours by the Partition street window day after day after day after day after year, teaching me how to
measure time.
**************************************************************************************************************************************************************
6.JUSTICE
It was a total betrayal. Senoir citizenzry and all of that kevetching had set in. Activism and volunteering for political causes which demanded
outrage/inrage/anger/ability to harass and blow off group steam had served her well as an organizer for umpteen issues truly unfair; from
female circumcision to migrant equal wages; from Kendra's law to fracking...she was a card carrying angeraholic/suffragetted hope-ette on
wheels, barking for change.
There isn't one deciding moment or reason why it all changed, why the anger turned petty, went internal and tasted bitterly explosive. Illness?
Death of friends? Early dementia? Whatever it was, the focus shifted to one,singly solitary, oxymnoronic task: to stamp out public, uncleaned-up
dog do. Like a mad anchoress released from a medieval cartoon, her morning walks became exercises of such intense detecting that she actually
became proud of her ability to sleuth out the size, shape, odor, placement and sex of the offending canine's refuse, soon to be earth mulch or
creamed "awfull" on a walker's shoe.
Didn't CNN report that there are some equally irate seniors with nothing to do and nowhere to place their fear of dying who live in Long Island
and take DBM (dog bowel movement) samples (uck!!!) from their shared Long Island co-op lawn, and then send the doo to a lab for DNA matching
up to the 4 legged offenders who live in their neighborhood. Now this is creative justice at it's best or a retired lawyers prank. What mentors and
new examples of patrolling with attitude they were!
But I had an idea to offer them: Why not monogram used Wall Mart plastic bags to hand out to early morning dog walking offenders, especially that
one at 6:30 with not one but 2 life sized megaton monster canines, verging on the obese. Do you have an idea for the moniker? Hmmmm,how about:
MY DOGS PACKED UP SHIT OR
DOGGY DO IN HERE OR
NOT MY SHIT, MY DOG'S OR
DON'T WORRY DOGS, HOPEFULLY I'M GOING HOME TO DO THIS TOO
With liberty and justice for all, a concerned citizen.
************************************************************************************************************************************
7 . DREAM OF A NEW SCULPTURE FOR STORM KING OR WHEREVER : THE VISITATION
On 50 acres?
10 rocks
Each 7 foot circumference
Pink or grey
One a crystal rose
A metal plaque
Etched Mary holds Elizabeth
Easier as art.
*************************************************************************************************************************************
8. MOM, FIVE OF HER GRANDKIDS AND MITCHELL : A PHOTO
What's the title? "Unless the seed falls on good ground"...or something like that? Or is it the picture with 5 people wearing stripes, two not? Mom
stands, in lined pants stretched over an extended abdomen, legs suggesting A GRANDMOTHER QUEEN BIRTHING. She's my age now, or I'm her
age then and with a duplicate haircut, or wig, and if I were wearing those incredible pants, it would be me! And like her, I would be there , before
it happened, reveling innocence and forgetting like she always did, anything but beauty.
BIG BELLY MA, WITH THE KIDS IN STRIPES, that's the title. Most of them are happy to be there, a few pouters, all oblivious to the crouching , not
seen but actually center stage panting dog, symbolically previewing and harboriging the syncronisity of medical tortures to that BIG BELLY MA,
burned radiationally to death.
In the far right corner, a photographer taking a picture of the picure that is already taken. Double life , but he holds his camera to the same cheek
where the bullet entered and spattered now defunct grey matter all over his mother's kitchen.
Hey, new title: THIS PHOTO BY BIG BELLY ME: YOU'D BETTER GO GET A COLONOSCOPY!
***************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************
9. A CONVERSATION ...FROM A PHOTO OF A GENERIC WHITE HORSE FOUND IN THE PAPER
I'm so large, so white, so magatonish! When just a stumbling gelding, Samantha dyed my mane pink and I tried out for a MY LITTLE PONY TV
commercial and a few years later, I wore feather angel wings for a walk-on in a play titled: Icarus. I was always a star. But that's the past. The
reason I'm even happier now is because I'm much too old for my current job in this charming village's equestrian competition. Samantha's family
used to bring me to jumping events every summer but I have to tell you what really happened and why I feel so liberated. Of course I will miss
the food, the apple snacks, the ohhs and ahhhs from the adoring girls and endless attention. How can I forget Miguel who hosed me down and
massaged me so lovingly every 4 hours when he wasn't running back to his hellishly hot trailer to check on his very situationally diabetic pregnant
wife and their other 4 vacantly unstimulated kids, hungry for lunch.
Even with all of the perks, the gig was horrible. How would you like it standing in a suffocatingly hot 4 horse capacity van driven by a taxied out
mother and a newbie teen who preferrred texting to talking. I never understood why Samantha's mom always seemd very peaced out on the trip
back after spending time with Uncle Bob at the local library or at least that's where she said they went, but they were so ozzingly gooey and happy
that it made me sick with suspicion. But the good news is that her mom was in a much better frame of mind (or was it body) and so she didnt mind
the 12 hour drive, round-trip! But me, oye vey! For hours I stood, in my own sweat, stink and shit, ankle-high-wet with pee , then robotically jumped
over pieces of wood, and endured the vibrationally lame stares of the entitled viewers who were eternally bored by excess, bored by too much food,
bored by too many stock dividends, bored by too many so called non-friends, bored by too much meaningless chatter about the Kardashians. By
association, I became as joyless, shocked into numbness and hopeless as all of them so one day I intentionally decided to become fat, sloppy, too
lame, too unfocused, and I tripped on purpose. Samantha cried for a week then her dad bought a new version of me to dry her tears.
Now, I truly fly in my dreams and gallop unhindered by phantom pain only when Samantha's not around.
*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************
10. WHAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK: FROM MY JOURNAL
FOUR BILLION
DIAMOND-EDGED BLADES
SEVER EARTH ARTERIES
SO
BLOOD OF LIGHT
CAN BURN.
*********************************************************************************************************************************************************
11. LOST
Dear friend,
For 27 years I have shared Nagasaki Day with you internally because at 9 years old, you lived about one and a half hours from there so for years I imagined
that you survived the violence and sin of war that occured in those two cities: HIROSHIMA/NAGASAKI. That was that, a quick and easy dismissal with horrible
images but my source of much information, the internet taught me otherwise, that is , I learned that Japan was incendenary bombed by B29's for about 6
months before the atom bombs leveled and decimated your country. But fire came first then nuclear devestation followed.
FORGIVE US: A LIST OF ONLY SOME OF THE FIRE RAIDS
TOKYO:
83,793 DIED( FIRST RAID)
40,918 WOUNDED
167,171 BUILDINGS DESTROYED
PLEASE FORGIVE THIS LOSS
NAGOYA:
3,609 TONS OF BOMBS
2 SQUARE MILES OF CITY DESTROYED
18 INDUSTRIAL SITES DESTROYED
PLEASE FORGIVE THIS LOSS
OSAKA:
8.1 SQUARE MILES DESTROYED
4000 PEOPLE DIED
678 MISSING
8463 INJURED
134,774 HOUSES DESTROYED
PLEASE FORGIVE US
NAGOYA:
PLEASE FORGIVE US
KAWASAKI:
PLEASE FORGIVE US
YOKOHAMA:
1.5 MILES DESTROYED
113,460 BUILDINGS DESTROYED
PLEASE FORGIVE US
OSAKA:
3.5 MILES DESTROYED
PLEASE FORGIVE US
KOBE:
4.35 SQUARE MILES DESTROYED
51,399 KILLED
PLEASE FORGIVE US
SASEBO:
PLEASE FORGIVE US
PLEASE FORGIVE US
FORGIVE US
FORGIVE
***********************************************************************************************************************************************************
12. CINDERELLA RESEEN
Once upon a time in a very verdant village in India, there lived a Brahmin princess, silver earringed at birth. She hardly had to chew as she grew since her
attendants, there were 8, did almost THAT for her, finger feeding her chapitis, dal, rice, keer, chai, and rice pudding. And she played back the attention
given her by fluttering her dark kohl lashed love eyes. Easy to adore, especially in a culture seeped in that virtue, she lived in mutually aroused ecstasy,
aided by loving touch by the massage walla who daily rubbed warmed coconut oil on her smooth as silk skin while and actually during the respective and
spiritually motivated touching of her lotus-feet in gestures of respect by friends, family and her growing numbers of students. At her birth, the village's
Guru had announced that neumerologically and astrologically, she really was a re-born saint/holy woman/Guru herself....a legacy holder of a tradition
forgotten generations ago.
Songs spontaneously came to her, lyrics hiding the secrets but in a new innocence she shared what she received from deep inside her primitive visioning
in a spirit of light-hearted joy. A true pioneer, breaking out of stody illusions, Padmavati suggested reform, suggested a pioneering reversal, suggested
change, an idea anethma to her class but there it was, right out on the table for all to see....let's not play around any more with this priestly class vs
the merchant class vs the agricultrual class vs the untouchables ! The gig is up and she sang over and over her message, practiced it, married a dalit
and taught her own family how to feed their attendants chapatis from their own hands. Love was the new name of the game.
*************************************************************************************************************************************************
13. A LOOK AT THE WORD KINDNESS: ONE WEEK OF UNKIND & KIND EVENTS: IN AUGUST 2011
GANDHI SAID:WHEN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGH HISTORY, THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
1. K.....A Kitchen called LOVE KITCHEN , run by 2 sisters Ellen and Ashe, has given over a million free meals since 1986. They minister to what
they call the 5 H'S: HUNGRY, HOMELESS,HELPLESS,HOPELESS AND HOMEBOUND. They prepare and distribute 2000 meals a week.
GANDHI SAID: WHEN I DESPAIR I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGH HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
2. I....Investors reveal that one of the causes of the stock market collapse happened because the brokers sold investor bonds assuming
them to be safe only to discover they were worth less than the stocks.
GANDHI SAID: WHEN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGH HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
3. N....Names of the 30 US soldiers kileed in the helicopter downed by the Taliban, will soon be released lifting the public shroud of secrecy
that sourrounds navy seal operations.
GHANDHI SAID: WHEN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGH HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
4.D...Discontent has been simmering among Britons urban poor for years and few have paid attention to the socila issues underlying the
anger in London.
GHANDHI SAID: WHEN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGH HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
5. N...Nairobi reports a cholera epidemic sweeping across Somalia as thousands of starving people flee famine zones and pack into
crowded camps in Mogadishu.
GHANDHI SAID: WEHN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGHOUT HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
6. E...Exercise, botox injections, denervation surgery, deep brain stimulation surgery, physical therapy, visualization, using a soft collar,
and elimination of all personal and siocial stress are some of the treatments used to deal with cervical dystonia/spasmodic torticollis.
GHANDHI SAID: WHEN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGHOUT HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
7. S...Sharon stopped eating,began to exercise obsessively and after family nmeals, she would go up to her room to do crunches and jumping
jacks for 2 hours straight. She couldnt watch TV without doing pushups or running on the treadmill.
GHANDHI SAID: WHEN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGHOUT HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
8. S..Spokesmen from the Maryknoll Fathers are determining if they will dismiss Father Roy Beaugeois who is campaigning to open the
Catholic priesthood to women. Father Roy indicates that he is following his conscience and that the prohibition on women ordination was
not an infallible church teaching despite vatican declarations to the contrary.
GHANDHI SAID: WHEN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGHOUT HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
KINDNESS............ K I N D N E S S
1942: BENEDICTINE HOSPITAL, KINGSTON NY & SAUGERTIES NY.......................................JUST TIME
1959: NEW ROCHELLE, NY....................................................................................................JUST TIME
1960: OSSINING, NY..............................................................................................................JUST TIME
1962: TOPSFIELD MASS..........................................................................................................JUST TIME
1963-65: OSSINING NY............................................................................................................JUST TIME
1966: FLORENCE ITALY............................................................................................................JUST TIME
1966-69: MADISON WISCONSIN..................................................................................................JUST TIME
1969-70: ROCHESTER NY..............................................................................................................JUST TIME
1971-81: CALIFORNIA....................................................................................................................JUST TIME
1981-91: NY STATE.........................................................................................................................JUST TIME
1991-98: TEXAS...............................................................................................................................JUST TIME
1998-PRESENT: ULSTER COUNTY.......................................................................................................JUST TIME
*******************************************************************************************************************************************************
2. I REMEMBER
" The ability to hold onto a piece of information in order to complete a task is specifically human. It causes certain regions of the brain to become
very active in particular, the frontal lobe,....which is highly developed in humans and is the reason we have such high, upright foreheads. Human
memory is acomplex phenomenom and involves other regions of the brain as well. Information is transferred from short term memory to long
term memory through the hippocampus,so named because it's shape resembles the curved tail of a seahorse(hippocampus in Greek.) The
hippocampus is a very old part of the cortex evolutionally and is located in the inner fold of the temporal lobe. Information is decoded in the
various sensory areas of the cortex then converges in the hippocampus which then sends them back from where they come from. We past
memories through the hippocampus several times....strengthen the associations , and then the cortex will have learned to reconstruct what we
call a memory."
Once she heard a story about a 12 year old girl who, while drawing a picture of an old Asian man from a book, remembered knowing him.
From where? A dream? Someplace else? Some other life? (Not a very Catholic explanation.)
Then 20 years later, she literally and truly met him, the same Asian man. Almost fainting, this real-time recognition was beyond the cortex.
********************************************************************************************************************************************************
3.BABY
A dream, flashback, past life? She walks east. A busy small village. Where? A tiny, adorable, cute, sweet, endearing 4 year old boy runs to her.
Brown skin. Another culture. A foreign country. Unaware of cars. Focused. One pointed. Wants to run to her. Why? Can hearts evolve from stone
to flesh in 3 seconds?Anatomically impossible but hers did. Adrenals propelled, eyes binoculared out of her head,silently shouting or maybe audibly,
"Baby, baby. Stop! Cars Cars Cars! Watch out." Fishing for languages she improvisatorily creates, she shouts, "Arete! Aiuto! Attende!" Nothing works.
Winded but frozen in place, her body morphs into Mother Love. My dream baby's 8 year old brother or cousin follows but the babitos pace is beyond
time and cosmically set, not to be matched.
Willing cars,trucks, vans,motorcycles, bikes and ambulances to be banned from the premises by some unseen force, he powers through the parted
sea of cars as potential killers into her arms. She kneels, absolves him, holds him at least in her mind, shakes him and tries 400 new languages to
teach Mother Law 101 to curb his instinct to innocence. "Dangeroso, dangeroso she moans. Dont you ever, ever, ever run away like that again.
Do you hear me?" By then younger brother and company are there translating my dnagerosos to periculosos, periculosos or maybe it is the other
way around. "Where's your real mother", I ask and the real is in silence. More commotion and a crazed with worry 16 year old babysitting aunt and
her friend breathlessly chant the same message, "Periculoso, periculoso, muy muy periculoso", and then THE MIRACLE! Time stopsand without
looking even to the sky to confirm his message, beauty babito baby point to his left and sings, "RAINBOW, RAINBOW!!",diverting his captive loves
from yet another almost 911 real time tear in the middle of the sorrow chest. Certainly diverting me from the coudha, wouldha, shouldhas mind to
instant rapture, and a harboring of new beginnings. As angel son and company concur and stop rescuing....rainbow, rainbow, they head west, I
north, but ever the magician he looks back at me with yet another translated by his cousin prophecy/warning,"Are you going home?"
********************************************************************************************************************************************************
4.MORNING
She knows how to give good gifts. Quality was always a 10, durability factored in, even if it was mail ordered. Nothing cheap, including the
clock they gave me maybe 10, maybe 15 years ago.... a travel alarm, because I was always on the road. Thoughtful gifts. An emergency kit
for my car one year when it seemed I was living in it. And then they ran out of ideas, energy, unable to remember who I am or what I do
so this past Christmas I aksed for something recycled, in fact she had mentioned she had a cassette recorder and I said, "That would be great,
i'd love that." But when they cleaned the cellar and found it, mold, mildew, dust and a barry Manilow tape or something else equally dispicable,
clogged it forever. So via ebay, or cragslist or Wikipedia, or QVC, via Taiwan, Istanbul, or maybe Beijing she found a duplicate Sony knock off
version which I actually use as a defense against the ipad/blackberry/blueberry/iphone/kindle/digital camera and robot caregiver.
This morning, I responded to the sound of the 15 year old gift that has never had a battery change but now flutters for 30 seconds before it
offers a polite European-like wake up call to this traveller who now prefers journeying in the silence of the dark night.
*********************************************************************************************************************************************************
5.THE 39 INCH RULER
Thirty-six inbches long/yellow-golden/aged/smeared with wear/readable numbers:
1.blackout
2.remember
3.remember
4.blackout
5.blackout
6.remember
7.blackout
8.blackout
9.remember
10.remember
11.remember
12.blackout
13.remember
14.blackout
15.blackout
16.remember
17.remember
18.blackout
19.remember
20.blackout
21.remember
22.blackout
23.remember
24.remember
25.remember
26.remember
27.blackout
28.blackout
29.remember
30.remember
31.remember
32.remember
33.remember
34.remember
35.blackout
Then it says 3, not 36. Where's the 6? But there are lines and words: Amos Post INC.,Petroleum Products, Catskill 278. Smell? Taste? No, but it elicits
immediate and constant flashbacks: Dad, where are you? Tell Grandpa I'm really, really, really ,really sad and sorry I didn't say a proper goodbye and
apologize. He knows what I am saying. But maybe he's sad too? The story is that when Grandma woke up from being sick with the 1918 Spanish Flu,
he had to tell her it killed their 3 year old only daughter and sister of 5 brothers. Did he hand Grandma a rumored photo of her in a child's coffin?
Aunt Uula, after that your mom sat mute for hours by the Partition street window day after day after day after day after year, teaching me how to
measure time.
**************************************************************************************************************************************************************
6.JUSTICE
It was a total betrayal. Senoir citizenzry and all of that kevetching had set in. Activism and volunteering for political causes which demanded
outrage/inrage/anger/ability to harass and blow off group steam had served her well as an organizer for umpteen issues truly unfair; from
female circumcision to migrant equal wages; from Kendra's law to fracking...she was a card carrying angeraholic/suffragetted hope-ette on
wheels, barking for change.
There isn't one deciding moment or reason why it all changed, why the anger turned petty, went internal and tasted bitterly explosive. Illness?
Death of friends? Early dementia? Whatever it was, the focus shifted to one,singly solitary, oxymnoronic task: to stamp out public, uncleaned-up
dog do. Like a mad anchoress released from a medieval cartoon, her morning walks became exercises of such intense detecting that she actually
became proud of her ability to sleuth out the size, shape, odor, placement and sex of the offending canine's refuse, soon to be earth mulch or
creamed "awfull" on a walker's shoe.
Didn't CNN report that there are some equally irate seniors with nothing to do and nowhere to place their fear of dying who live in Long Island
and take DBM (dog bowel movement) samples (uck!!!) from their shared Long Island co-op lawn, and then send the doo to a lab for DNA matching
up to the 4 legged offenders who live in their neighborhood. Now this is creative justice at it's best or a retired lawyers prank. What mentors and
new examples of patrolling with attitude they were!
But I had an idea to offer them: Why not monogram used Wall Mart plastic bags to hand out to early morning dog walking offenders, especially that
one at 6:30 with not one but 2 life sized megaton monster canines, verging on the obese. Do you have an idea for the moniker? Hmmmm,how about:
MY DOGS PACKED UP SHIT OR
DOGGY DO IN HERE OR
NOT MY SHIT, MY DOG'S OR
DON'T WORRY DOGS, HOPEFULLY I'M GOING HOME TO DO THIS TOO
With liberty and justice for all, a concerned citizen.
************************************************************************************************************************************
7 . DREAM OF A NEW SCULPTURE FOR STORM KING OR WHEREVER : THE VISITATION
On 50 acres?
10 rocks
Each 7 foot circumference
Pink or grey
One a crystal rose
A metal plaque
Etched Mary holds Elizabeth
Easier as art.
*************************************************************************************************************************************
8. MOM, FIVE OF HER GRANDKIDS AND MITCHELL : A PHOTO
What's the title? "Unless the seed falls on good ground"...or something like that? Or is it the picture with 5 people wearing stripes, two not? Mom
stands, in lined pants stretched over an extended abdomen, legs suggesting A GRANDMOTHER QUEEN BIRTHING. She's my age now, or I'm her
age then and with a duplicate haircut, or wig, and if I were wearing those incredible pants, it would be me! And like her, I would be there , before
it happened, reveling innocence and forgetting like she always did, anything but beauty.
BIG BELLY MA, WITH THE KIDS IN STRIPES, that's the title. Most of them are happy to be there, a few pouters, all oblivious to the crouching , not
seen but actually center stage panting dog, symbolically previewing and harboriging the syncronisity of medical tortures to that BIG BELLY MA,
burned radiationally to death.
In the far right corner, a photographer taking a picture of the picure that is already taken. Double life , but he holds his camera to the same cheek
where the bullet entered and spattered now defunct grey matter all over his mother's kitchen.
Hey, new title: THIS PHOTO BY BIG BELLY ME: YOU'D BETTER GO GET A COLONOSCOPY!
***************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************
9. A CONVERSATION ...FROM A PHOTO OF A GENERIC WHITE HORSE FOUND IN THE PAPER
I'm so large, so white, so magatonish! When just a stumbling gelding, Samantha dyed my mane pink and I tried out for a MY LITTLE PONY TV
commercial and a few years later, I wore feather angel wings for a walk-on in a play titled: Icarus. I was always a star. But that's the past. The
reason I'm even happier now is because I'm much too old for my current job in this charming village's equestrian competition. Samantha's family
used to bring me to jumping events every summer but I have to tell you what really happened and why I feel so liberated. Of course I will miss
the food, the apple snacks, the ohhs and ahhhs from the adoring girls and endless attention. How can I forget Miguel who hosed me down and
massaged me so lovingly every 4 hours when he wasn't running back to his hellishly hot trailer to check on his very situationally diabetic pregnant
wife and their other 4 vacantly unstimulated kids, hungry for lunch.
Even with all of the perks, the gig was horrible. How would you like it standing in a suffocatingly hot 4 horse capacity van driven by a taxied out
mother and a newbie teen who preferrred texting to talking. I never understood why Samantha's mom always seemd very peaced out on the trip
back after spending time with Uncle Bob at the local library or at least that's where she said they went, but they were so ozzingly gooey and happy
that it made me sick with suspicion. But the good news is that her mom was in a much better frame of mind (or was it body) and so she didnt mind
the 12 hour drive, round-trip! But me, oye vey! For hours I stood, in my own sweat, stink and shit, ankle-high-wet with pee , then robotically jumped
over pieces of wood, and endured the vibrationally lame stares of the entitled viewers who were eternally bored by excess, bored by too much food,
bored by too many stock dividends, bored by too many so called non-friends, bored by too much meaningless chatter about the Kardashians. By
association, I became as joyless, shocked into numbness and hopeless as all of them so one day I intentionally decided to become fat, sloppy, too
lame, too unfocused, and I tripped on purpose. Samantha cried for a week then her dad bought a new version of me to dry her tears.
Now, I truly fly in my dreams and gallop unhindered by phantom pain only when Samantha's not around.
*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************
10. WHAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK: FROM MY JOURNAL
FOUR BILLION
DIAMOND-EDGED BLADES
SEVER EARTH ARTERIES
SO
BLOOD OF LIGHT
CAN BURN.
*********************************************************************************************************************************************************
11. LOST
Dear friend,
For 27 years I have shared Nagasaki Day with you internally because at 9 years old, you lived about one and a half hours from there so for years I imagined
that you survived the violence and sin of war that occured in those two cities: HIROSHIMA/NAGASAKI. That was that, a quick and easy dismissal with horrible
images but my source of much information, the internet taught me otherwise, that is , I learned that Japan was incendenary bombed by B29's for about 6
months before the atom bombs leveled and decimated your country. But fire came first then nuclear devestation followed.
FORGIVE US: A LIST OF ONLY SOME OF THE FIRE RAIDS
TOKYO:
83,793 DIED( FIRST RAID)
40,918 WOUNDED
167,171 BUILDINGS DESTROYED
PLEASE FORGIVE THIS LOSS
NAGOYA:
3,609 TONS OF BOMBS
2 SQUARE MILES OF CITY DESTROYED
18 INDUSTRIAL SITES DESTROYED
PLEASE FORGIVE THIS LOSS
OSAKA:
8.1 SQUARE MILES DESTROYED
4000 PEOPLE DIED
678 MISSING
8463 INJURED
134,774 HOUSES DESTROYED
PLEASE FORGIVE US
NAGOYA:
PLEASE FORGIVE US
KAWASAKI:
PLEASE FORGIVE US
YOKOHAMA:
1.5 MILES DESTROYED
113,460 BUILDINGS DESTROYED
PLEASE FORGIVE US
OSAKA:
3.5 MILES DESTROYED
PLEASE FORGIVE US
KOBE:
4.35 SQUARE MILES DESTROYED
51,399 KILLED
PLEASE FORGIVE US
SASEBO:
PLEASE FORGIVE US
PLEASE FORGIVE US
FORGIVE US
FORGIVE
***********************************************************************************************************************************************************
12. CINDERELLA RESEEN
Once upon a time in a very verdant village in India, there lived a Brahmin princess, silver earringed at birth. She hardly had to chew as she grew since her
attendants, there were 8, did almost THAT for her, finger feeding her chapitis, dal, rice, keer, chai, and rice pudding. And she played back the attention
given her by fluttering her dark kohl lashed love eyes. Easy to adore, especially in a culture seeped in that virtue, she lived in mutually aroused ecstasy,
aided by loving touch by the massage walla who daily rubbed warmed coconut oil on her smooth as silk skin while and actually during the respective and
spiritually motivated touching of her lotus-feet in gestures of respect by friends, family and her growing numbers of students. At her birth, the village's
Guru had announced that neumerologically and astrologically, she really was a re-born saint/holy woman/Guru herself....a legacy holder of a tradition
forgotten generations ago.
Songs spontaneously came to her, lyrics hiding the secrets but in a new innocence she shared what she received from deep inside her primitive visioning
in a spirit of light-hearted joy. A true pioneer, breaking out of stody illusions, Padmavati suggested reform, suggested a pioneering reversal, suggested
change, an idea anethma to her class but there it was, right out on the table for all to see....let's not play around any more with this priestly class vs
the merchant class vs the agricultrual class vs the untouchables ! The gig is up and she sang over and over her message, practiced it, married a dalit
and taught her own family how to feed their attendants chapatis from their own hands. Love was the new name of the game.
*************************************************************************************************************************************************
13. A LOOK AT THE WORD KINDNESS: ONE WEEK OF UNKIND & KIND EVENTS: IN AUGUST 2011
GANDHI SAID:WHEN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGH HISTORY, THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
1. K.....A Kitchen called LOVE KITCHEN , run by 2 sisters Ellen and Ashe, has given over a million free meals since 1986. They minister to what
they call the 5 H'S: HUNGRY, HOMELESS,HELPLESS,HOPELESS AND HOMEBOUND. They prepare and distribute 2000 meals a week.
GANDHI SAID: WHEN I DESPAIR I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGH HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
2. I....Investors reveal that one of the causes of the stock market collapse happened because the brokers sold investor bonds assuming
them to be safe only to discover they were worth less than the stocks.
GANDHI SAID: WHEN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGH HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
3. N....Names of the 30 US soldiers kileed in the helicopter downed by the Taliban, will soon be released lifting the public shroud of secrecy
that sourrounds navy seal operations.
GHANDHI SAID: WHEN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGH HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
4.D...Discontent has been simmering among Britons urban poor for years and few have paid attention to the socila issues underlying the
anger in London.
GHANDHI SAID: WHEN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGH HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
5. N...Nairobi reports a cholera epidemic sweeping across Somalia as thousands of starving people flee famine zones and pack into
crowded camps in Mogadishu.
GHANDHI SAID: WEHN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGHOUT HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
6. E...Exercise, botox injections, denervation surgery, deep brain stimulation surgery, physical therapy, visualization, using a soft collar,
and elimination of all personal and siocial stress are some of the treatments used to deal with cervical dystonia/spasmodic torticollis.
GHANDHI SAID: WHEN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGHOUT HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
7. S...Sharon stopped eating,began to exercise obsessively and after family nmeals, she would go up to her room to do crunches and jumping
jacks for 2 hours straight. She couldnt watch TV without doing pushups or running on the treadmill.
GHANDHI SAID: WHEN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGHOUT HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
8. S..Spokesmen from the Maryknoll Fathers are determining if they will dismiss Father Roy Beaugeois who is campaigning to open the
Catholic priesthood to women. Father Roy indicates that he is following his conscience and that the prohibition on women ordination was
not an infallible church teaching despite vatican declarations to the contrary.
GHANDHI SAID: WHEN I DESPAIR, I REMEMBER THAT ALL THROUGHOUT HISTORY THE WAYS OF TRUTH AND LOVE HAVE ALWAYS WON.
KINDNESS............ K I N D N E S S
Monday, October 24, 2011
MOTHER LOVE: AN INTERACTIVE JOURNEY TO OUR BIRTH MOTHERS, LINDA MARY MONTANOAN INTERACTIVE LETTER/SONG FOR OUR MOTHERS
MONTANO WILL SING ABOUT HER MOTHER'S LAST DAYS IN THE HOSPITAL .
VIDEO IMAGES WILL APPEAR PROJECTED.
VIEWERS WILL WRITE LETTERS TO THEIR MOTHERS DURING THE EXPERIENCE.
AFTER THE STORY AND SONG, MONTANO WILL CHANGE HER CLOTHES AND THEN, DRESSED LIKE MOTHER TERESA OF CALCUTTA, ALL WILL PROCESS OUTSIDE AND BURN THE LETTERS TO THEIR MOTHERS.
APPROXIMATE TIME: ONE HOUR
MONTANO WILL SING ABOUT HER MOTHER'S LAST DAYS IN THE HOSPITAL .
VIDEO IMAGES WILL APPEAR PROJECTED.
VIEWERS WILL WRITE LETTERS TO THEIR MOTHERS DURING THE EXPERIENCE.
AFTER THE STORY AND SONG, MONTANO WILL CHANGE HER CLOTHES AND THEN, DRESSED LIKE MOTHER TERESA OF CALCUTTA, ALL WILL PROCESS OUTSIDE AND BURN THE LETTERS TO THEIR MOTHERS.
APPROXIMATE TIME: ONE HOUR
Friday, October 21, 2011
ART...THE BRAIN.......RITUAL....LINDA MARY MONTANO 2011
DEAR ESTEEMED ARTISTS AND LIFEISTS:
I WISH TO TALK WITH YOU ABOUT THE BRAIN BECAUSE I SEE MY OWN ART AS MEDICINE AND MY DRUGS OF CHOICE ARE PERFORMANCE/VIDEO/BOOKS/ENDURANCE/PERSONAS/AND ACCENTS...WITH ALL DUE RESPECT TO MY ITALIAN GRANDPARENTS WHO TALKED WITH AN ACCENT...THESE DRUGS MOVE ME OUT OF LEFT BRAIN FEARS,GUILTS,JUDGMENTS AND ATTACHMENT TO SUFFERING AND ALLOW ME RIGHT BRAIN ART PLAYTIME.
MY INTEREST IN THE BRAIN IS MEDICALLY PERSONAL AND I HAVE ALSO RESEARCHED JILL TAYLOR, BRAHMANANDA SARASWATI AND BEDE GRIFFITH...ALL OF WHOM HAD LEFT BRAIN STROKES AND A RESULTING ARTIST-LIKE EUPHORIA.
ADMITTEDLY WE LIFEISTS/ARTISTS DONT HAVE TO HAVE A STROKE TO BECOME MORE CREATIVE OR BETTER LOVERS OF BEAUTY. WE MAKE ART WHICH IS A BRAIN GAME AND THAT'S ENOUGH. BUT WE DO NEUROBIOLOGICALLY SHARE OUR JOURNEY WITH OUR MEDICALLY COMPROMISED FRIENDS LISTED ABOVE.
TO ILLUSTRATE; I WILL FURTHER DISCUSS ART AND ANXIETY/THE BRAIN/RITUAL/THE GLANDS.
I'M SURE THAT THERE ARE A FEW UNIVERSALLY APPLICABLE PATTERNS STRUCTURING AND FOUNDATIONING THE ART MAKING PROCESS WHICH WE ALL SHARE.
PATTERN 1: ART AND ANXIETY
WHAT BETTER TIME TO BE AN ARTIST/LIFEIST? ADMITTEDLY WE ARE VOCATIONALLY CALLED TO WONDER ABOUT, BE HAUNTED BY AND SENSITIZED TO VACATED NOTHINGNESS AND CURRENTLY OUR JOB IS EXACERBATED BY HAIR RAISING STORMS, WINDS, WATERS, LIGHTENING, FIRES, EARTHQUAKES, FAMINES AND TOTAL PLANETARY COLLAPSE. AUTHOR THOMAS BERRY STATES THAT ANXIETIES ABOUND AND MANIFEST THIS COLLAPSE IN THREE WAYS : BODY/MIND/SOUL
1. WE ARTISTS ARE SENSITIZED TO AND FEAR PHYSICAL COLLAPSE, DEATH AND THE PARALYZING NIGHMARE THAT WE WILL CEASE TO BE, CEASE TO HAVE A BODY, SHELTER, SUSTENANCE.
2. WE ARE SENSITIZED TO MORAL COLLAPSE AND BECAUSE WE ARE OVERWHELMED WITH DECISION FATIGUE GIVEN THE PLETHORA OF FREE FLOATING WEB INFORMATION, WE FEAR WE WILL NEVER KNOW REAL TRUTH.
3. WE ARE SENSITIZED TO AND HAUNTED BY THE ANXIETY OF SPIRITUAL COLLAPSE AND FEAR THAT LIFE IS KARDASHIANLY MEANINGLESS, HOPELESS, HELPLESS, FOOLISH AND WITHOUT CONSEQUENCE.
THESE 3 ANXIETIES OF BODY,MIND AND SPIRIT ARE OUR ART MATERIAL, WORDS FOR OUR PRAYER, OUR CLAY, OUR PAINT.....
PATTERN 2: ART AND RITUAL
WITH THESE ART MATERIALS, WE PHEONIX OURSELVES RITUALISTICALLY AND COURAGEOUSLY THROUGH THE FIRES OF DAILY DISASTERS, POLITICAL DISASTERS, SOCIAL DISASTERS TO RETURN WITH NOT ONLY OUR OWN PSYCHES INTACT, TRANSFORMED & BURNT CLEAN BUT WITH FODDER AND BEAUTY FOR OUR CO-PILGRIMS.
I LEARNED EARLY TO BE AN ARTIST VIA THE ROMAN CATHOLIC RITUALS OF MASS, EUCHARIST, CONFESSION, INCENSE, STATUES AND COUNTLESS OTHER LITURGICAL WAYS THAT I WAS CATAPULTED INTO VATICANED MYSTERIOUS AND SYMBOLIC WORLDS. I WANTED TO BE ON THE ALTAR, TO BE A PRIEST, AND COULDNT, SO I IMITATED IN PERFORMANCE WHAT I SAW IN CHURCH BUT MORE EXACTLY WHAT I FELT, WHICH IS TRANSCENDENCE, ECSTASY AND TIMELESS SILENCE. BECUASE I AM A WOMAN, I CANNOT MAKE CHRIST PRESENT ON THE ALTAR BY CONSECRATING THE EUCHARIST BUT I CAN POINT TO THE NEED FOR CHRISTIAN MERCY AND COMPASSION IN MY OWN LIFE AND ADDRESS MY OWN NEANDERTHALIZED FLIGHT-FIGHT LEFT BRAIN TENDECIES.
GENERALLY SPEAKING, WE ARTISTS ARE VOCATIONALLY CALLED TO RITUALLY CREATE ORDER OF MATTER SO THAT WE CAN RISE UP, FLOAT AND FLY. WHY DO WE DO THIS? BECAUSE WE LIKE AND KNOW HOW TO CREATE CEREMONIES AND RITUAL.
PATTERN 2a: LET'S ADMIT IT, WE ARE
REPETITION REPEATERS
SYSTEM CREATORS
ANXIETY REFRAMERS
O-CDERS
COMMUNITY BONDERS
LIFECRISIS FIXERS
TRUTH KEEPERS
MIGHTY FOCUSERS
SYMBOL SEEKERS
SCAM SMELLERS
WORSHIP LOVERS
CHARMING HYPNOTIZERS
TRAUMA RE-ORGANIZERS
PURIFICATION ENACTERS
HOLY HAZERS
CONSCIOUS PERFORMERS
ECSTASY TRANCERS
SPIRITUAL MINISTERS
RIGHT BRAIN ADDICTORS
SECURITY STRUCTURERS
BODY MORPHERS
ENERGY NEUTRALIZERS
DEPRESSION PREVENTERS
ZEALOUS PASTORS
ROBOTIC REPEATERS
SOCIAL BONDERS
COMPULSIVE ENACTERS
MORAL RESTRAINERS
DEMON EVICTORS
DEATH DE-CONFIGURERS
PATTERN 3: ART AND THE BRAIN
ARTISTS BRAINS ARE DIFFERENT. TO PROVE OR DISPROVE MY CLAIM, WE TOOK THIS SCAM, BOGUS, TOTALLY UNSCIENTIFIC AND SIMPLISTICALLY INACCURATE TEST TO DETERMINE OUR BRAINS ORIENTATION. WE CAN AGREE WE HAVE 70 TRILLION CELLS, 230 BONES, 650 MUSCLES AND YET WHEN NEUROBIOLOGIST JILL BOLTE TAYLOR DESCRIBES HER LEFT BRAIN STROKE AND SAYS THAT THE RIGHT BRAIN THINKS IN PICTURES, IS PRESENT MOMENT ORIENTED AND LEARNS KINESTHETICALLY WHILE THE LEFT BRAIN THINKS LINERALLY, METHODICALLY, IS PAST AND FUTURE ORIENTED, HAS A SENSE OF I AND EGO AND FEELS SEPERATE FROM EVERYONE , I BELIEVE HER. DO YOU? I KNOW YOU NEUROSURGEONS, NEUROLOGISTS AND MEDICAL PEOPLE OUT THERE ARE SQUIRMING, PUTTING YOUR FINGERS IN YOUR EARS AND SINGING LA,LA,LA. BUT MY MEDICALLY NON-DOCUMENTED THESIS IS THAT WE ARTISTS ARE VOCATIONALLY CALLED TO MAKE SENSE OF LEFT BRAIN STUFF BY TAKING ALL OF IT...OUR BAGGAGE, WORRIES, GARBAGE AND TRUCK IT OVER TO THE RIGHT BRAIN WHERE COMPASSION, BEAUTY AND AGENDALESS REGARD IS ABLE TO TURN PAIN INTO PAINTINGS, PAIN INTO PAINTINGS, PAIN INTO PAINTINGS.
PATTERN 4: FROM CHAKRAS TO GLANDS
IN MY 50'S, MY HOUSE OF CARDS BEGAN TO SLOWLY COLLAPSE.
1. I HAD FINISHED 14 YEARS OF LIVING ART AND STUDY OF THE CHAKRAS
2. I HAD A LEFT BRAIN SILENT STROKE
3. I WAS REFUSED TENURE
4. I WAS CAREGIVER FOR MY DAD FOR 7 YEARS
5. MY TEACHER , DR ARUNA MEHTA ALSO DIED
6. I BECAME SICK WITH DYSTONIA, A PARKINSONIAN MOVEMENT DISORDER
I HAD REACHED THE SICKNESS, OLD AGE AND DEATH CHAPTERS OF MY LIFE AND FELT STRIPPED OF CHAKRAS, STRIPPED OF BRAIN NEURONS, STRIPPED OF EASY ANSWERS, STRIPPED OF DREAMS, NOT STRIPPED OF CELLULITE OR FACE WRINKLES, STRIPPED OF ART, STRIPPED OF CERTAINTY, STRIPPED OF CREATIVITY AND THROWN INTO HELL. GOING THERE HAS BEEN AN AMUSEMENT PARK RIDE OF TERROR INTO SECRETS STORED IN MY LEFT BRAIN ONCE CEMENTED SHUT AND NOW REDUCING ME TO AN ON MY KNEES POSITION OF SURRENDER.THE VIDEO, STARVED SURVIVORS IS THE RESULT OF THESE YEARS OF RESEARCH INTO THE DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL. WHILE IN THAT DARKNESS ONE DAY, SPASMING AND TWISTED WITH DYSTONIA, I HEARD AN INN ER VOICE THAT SID, "LINDA,YOU LOOK JUST LIKE MOTHER TERESA." AND AFTER YEARS IN LOCKED DOWN JAIL, I FEEL AS IF I CAN NOW TAKE THIS BODY WITH GLANDS, CLIMB UP OUT OF A DANTE-LIKE PUTRID SLIME, WASH CLEAN MY OILED WINGS AND FLY HOME. MOTHER TERESA THANK YOU FOR LOANING YOUR WINGS. THANK YOU FOR LOANING YOUR WINGS, THANK YOU FOR LOANING YOUR WINGS.
LINDA MARY MONTANO, 2011
I WISH TO TALK WITH YOU ABOUT THE BRAIN BECAUSE I SEE MY OWN ART AS MEDICINE AND MY DRUGS OF CHOICE ARE PERFORMANCE/VIDEO/BOOKS/ENDURANCE/PERSONAS/AND ACCENTS...WITH ALL DUE RESPECT TO MY ITALIAN GRANDPARENTS WHO TALKED WITH AN ACCENT...THESE DRUGS MOVE ME OUT OF LEFT BRAIN FEARS,GUILTS,JUDGMENTS AND ATTACHMENT TO SUFFERING AND ALLOW ME RIGHT BRAIN ART PLAYTIME.
MY INTEREST IN THE BRAIN IS MEDICALLY PERSONAL AND I HAVE ALSO RESEARCHED JILL TAYLOR, BRAHMANANDA SARASWATI AND BEDE GRIFFITH...ALL OF WHOM HAD LEFT BRAIN STROKES AND A RESULTING ARTIST-LIKE EUPHORIA.
ADMITTEDLY WE LIFEISTS/ARTISTS DONT HAVE TO HAVE A STROKE TO BECOME MORE CREATIVE OR BETTER LOVERS OF BEAUTY. WE MAKE ART WHICH IS A BRAIN GAME AND THAT'S ENOUGH. BUT WE DO NEUROBIOLOGICALLY SHARE OUR JOURNEY WITH OUR MEDICALLY COMPROMISED FRIENDS LISTED ABOVE.
TO ILLUSTRATE; I WILL FURTHER DISCUSS ART AND ANXIETY/THE BRAIN/RITUAL/THE GLANDS.
I'M SURE THAT THERE ARE A FEW UNIVERSALLY APPLICABLE PATTERNS STRUCTURING AND FOUNDATIONING THE ART MAKING PROCESS WHICH WE ALL SHARE.
PATTERN 1: ART AND ANXIETY
WHAT BETTER TIME TO BE AN ARTIST/LIFEIST? ADMITTEDLY WE ARE VOCATIONALLY CALLED TO WONDER ABOUT, BE HAUNTED BY AND SENSITIZED TO VACATED NOTHINGNESS AND CURRENTLY OUR JOB IS EXACERBATED BY HAIR RAISING STORMS, WINDS, WATERS, LIGHTENING, FIRES, EARTHQUAKES, FAMINES AND TOTAL PLANETARY COLLAPSE. AUTHOR THOMAS BERRY STATES THAT ANXIETIES ABOUND AND MANIFEST THIS COLLAPSE IN THREE WAYS : BODY/MIND/SOUL
1. WE ARTISTS ARE SENSITIZED TO AND FEAR PHYSICAL COLLAPSE, DEATH AND THE PARALYZING NIGHMARE THAT WE WILL CEASE TO BE, CEASE TO HAVE A BODY, SHELTER, SUSTENANCE.
2. WE ARE SENSITIZED TO MORAL COLLAPSE AND BECAUSE WE ARE OVERWHELMED WITH DECISION FATIGUE GIVEN THE PLETHORA OF FREE FLOATING WEB INFORMATION, WE FEAR WE WILL NEVER KNOW REAL TRUTH.
3. WE ARE SENSITIZED TO AND HAUNTED BY THE ANXIETY OF SPIRITUAL COLLAPSE AND FEAR THAT LIFE IS KARDASHIANLY MEANINGLESS, HOPELESS, HELPLESS, FOOLISH AND WITHOUT CONSEQUENCE.
THESE 3 ANXIETIES OF BODY,MIND AND SPIRIT ARE OUR ART MATERIAL, WORDS FOR OUR PRAYER, OUR CLAY, OUR PAINT.....
PATTERN 2: ART AND RITUAL
WITH THESE ART MATERIALS, WE PHEONIX OURSELVES RITUALISTICALLY AND COURAGEOUSLY THROUGH THE FIRES OF DAILY DISASTERS, POLITICAL DISASTERS, SOCIAL DISASTERS TO RETURN WITH NOT ONLY OUR OWN PSYCHES INTACT, TRANSFORMED & BURNT CLEAN BUT WITH FODDER AND BEAUTY FOR OUR CO-PILGRIMS.
I LEARNED EARLY TO BE AN ARTIST VIA THE ROMAN CATHOLIC RITUALS OF MASS, EUCHARIST, CONFESSION, INCENSE, STATUES AND COUNTLESS OTHER LITURGICAL WAYS THAT I WAS CATAPULTED INTO VATICANED MYSTERIOUS AND SYMBOLIC WORLDS. I WANTED TO BE ON THE ALTAR, TO BE A PRIEST, AND COULDNT, SO I IMITATED IN PERFORMANCE WHAT I SAW IN CHURCH BUT MORE EXACTLY WHAT I FELT, WHICH IS TRANSCENDENCE, ECSTASY AND TIMELESS SILENCE. BECUASE I AM A WOMAN, I CANNOT MAKE CHRIST PRESENT ON THE ALTAR BY CONSECRATING THE EUCHARIST BUT I CAN POINT TO THE NEED FOR CHRISTIAN MERCY AND COMPASSION IN MY OWN LIFE AND ADDRESS MY OWN NEANDERTHALIZED FLIGHT-FIGHT LEFT BRAIN TENDECIES.
GENERALLY SPEAKING, WE ARTISTS ARE VOCATIONALLY CALLED TO RITUALLY CREATE ORDER OF MATTER SO THAT WE CAN RISE UP, FLOAT AND FLY. WHY DO WE DO THIS? BECAUSE WE LIKE AND KNOW HOW TO CREATE CEREMONIES AND RITUAL.
PATTERN 2a: LET'S ADMIT IT, WE ARE
REPETITION REPEATERS
SYSTEM CREATORS
ANXIETY REFRAMERS
O-CDERS
COMMUNITY BONDERS
LIFECRISIS FIXERS
TRUTH KEEPERS
MIGHTY FOCUSERS
SYMBOL SEEKERS
SCAM SMELLERS
WORSHIP LOVERS
CHARMING HYPNOTIZERS
TRAUMA RE-ORGANIZERS
PURIFICATION ENACTERS
HOLY HAZERS
CONSCIOUS PERFORMERS
ECSTASY TRANCERS
SPIRITUAL MINISTERS
RIGHT BRAIN ADDICTORS
SECURITY STRUCTURERS
BODY MORPHERS
ENERGY NEUTRALIZERS
DEPRESSION PREVENTERS
ZEALOUS PASTORS
ROBOTIC REPEATERS
SOCIAL BONDERS
COMPULSIVE ENACTERS
MORAL RESTRAINERS
DEMON EVICTORS
DEATH DE-CONFIGURERS
PATTERN 3: ART AND THE BRAIN
ARTISTS BRAINS ARE DIFFERENT. TO PROVE OR DISPROVE MY CLAIM, WE TOOK THIS SCAM, BOGUS, TOTALLY UNSCIENTIFIC AND SIMPLISTICALLY INACCURATE TEST TO DETERMINE OUR BRAINS ORIENTATION. WE CAN AGREE WE HAVE 70 TRILLION CELLS, 230 BONES, 650 MUSCLES AND YET WHEN NEUROBIOLOGIST JILL BOLTE TAYLOR DESCRIBES HER LEFT BRAIN STROKE AND SAYS THAT THE RIGHT BRAIN THINKS IN PICTURES, IS PRESENT MOMENT ORIENTED AND LEARNS KINESTHETICALLY WHILE THE LEFT BRAIN THINKS LINERALLY, METHODICALLY, IS PAST AND FUTURE ORIENTED, HAS A SENSE OF I AND EGO AND FEELS SEPERATE FROM EVERYONE , I BELIEVE HER. DO YOU? I KNOW YOU NEUROSURGEONS, NEUROLOGISTS AND MEDICAL PEOPLE OUT THERE ARE SQUIRMING, PUTTING YOUR FINGERS IN YOUR EARS AND SINGING LA,LA,LA. BUT MY MEDICALLY NON-DOCUMENTED THESIS IS THAT WE ARTISTS ARE VOCATIONALLY CALLED TO MAKE SENSE OF LEFT BRAIN STUFF BY TAKING ALL OF IT...OUR BAGGAGE, WORRIES, GARBAGE AND TRUCK IT OVER TO THE RIGHT BRAIN WHERE COMPASSION, BEAUTY AND AGENDALESS REGARD IS ABLE TO TURN PAIN INTO PAINTINGS, PAIN INTO PAINTINGS, PAIN INTO PAINTINGS.
PATTERN 4: FROM CHAKRAS TO GLANDS
IN MY 50'S, MY HOUSE OF CARDS BEGAN TO SLOWLY COLLAPSE.
1. I HAD FINISHED 14 YEARS OF LIVING ART AND STUDY OF THE CHAKRAS
2. I HAD A LEFT BRAIN SILENT STROKE
3. I WAS REFUSED TENURE
4. I WAS CAREGIVER FOR MY DAD FOR 7 YEARS
5. MY TEACHER , DR ARUNA MEHTA ALSO DIED
6. I BECAME SICK WITH DYSTONIA, A PARKINSONIAN MOVEMENT DISORDER
I HAD REACHED THE SICKNESS, OLD AGE AND DEATH CHAPTERS OF MY LIFE AND FELT STRIPPED OF CHAKRAS, STRIPPED OF BRAIN NEURONS, STRIPPED OF EASY ANSWERS, STRIPPED OF DREAMS, NOT STRIPPED OF CELLULITE OR FACE WRINKLES, STRIPPED OF ART, STRIPPED OF CERTAINTY, STRIPPED OF CREATIVITY AND THROWN INTO HELL. GOING THERE HAS BEEN AN AMUSEMENT PARK RIDE OF TERROR INTO SECRETS STORED IN MY LEFT BRAIN ONCE CEMENTED SHUT AND NOW REDUCING ME TO AN ON MY KNEES POSITION OF SURRENDER.THE VIDEO, STARVED SURVIVORS IS THE RESULT OF THESE YEARS OF RESEARCH INTO THE DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL. WHILE IN THAT DARKNESS ONE DAY, SPASMING AND TWISTED WITH DYSTONIA, I HEARD AN INN ER VOICE THAT SID, "LINDA,YOU LOOK JUST LIKE MOTHER TERESA." AND AFTER YEARS IN LOCKED DOWN JAIL, I FEEL AS IF I CAN NOW TAKE THIS BODY WITH GLANDS, CLIMB UP OUT OF A DANTE-LIKE PUTRID SLIME, WASH CLEAN MY OILED WINGS AND FLY HOME. MOTHER TERESA THANK YOU FOR LOANING YOUR WINGS. THANK YOU FOR LOANING YOUR WINGS, THANK YOU FOR LOANING YOUR WINGS.
LINDA MARY MONTANO, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
HOPE
WRITING HOPE IN THE BRONX: LINDA MARY MONTANO & NICOLAS DUMIT ESTEVEZ
What a great opportunity! A chance to be a transgressive twin again, this time not with a rope but with HOPE, binding me invisibly and happily to Nicolas Dumit Estevez for 3 days, 3 hours a day in his Bronx.
About 6 months ago, Nicolas invited me to help him celebrate his incorporation into Bronxdom and I suggested we perform a "HOPE/PIECE/PEACE". This is not the time or place to suggest the 563,000 reasons why hope is our most valuable personal, political, social commodity so I defer to conceptual art reasons to explain why my first idea referenced recycled plastic bags.... I said to Nicolas, "Let's stand on the streets, 3 hours a day, for 3 days and let folks write their hopes on plastic bags with markers. Then we hang the bags in the gallery." It seemed like a good concept coming from an ex-nun who had sworn herself to poverty and simplicity, right?
We agreed and then a few months later he contacted me, we talked and he said, "Do you want to scan the HOPES written on bags and show the scans instead of plastic bags?" Nicolas's sweet voice can convince me of anything and I let go of the simple, green, bag endurance and we agreed. Scan the bags. It seemed like an aesthetic and good fix and raised the level of plastic to fine art, even though it did involve technology, paper and a larger time commitment.
And then a few months later we talked and Nicolas raised the bar! "Let's let them write their hopes on us," he said. "We can wear white clothes!!!!" So in the tradition of our art mentors: Manzoni, Klein, Yoko Ono, Shirin Neshat and a litany of others; in the tradition of the cave painting ritual of signage as symbol, we ventured into Bronx-land and endured while wearing our white art suits. And as walking, talking, transgressing, living sculptures we invited elders, African Muslims, 12 year old school children, folks on the streets, subways, taxis and buses to STOP! DREAM! SHARE LIFE AND HOPE outside the traumas of the daily news and our individual unimaginably complex everyday dramas.
Nicolas, we play good art/life together,
Linda Mary Montano
TO ALL WHO ATTEND THE OPENING /OR READ THIS STATEMENT:
I am attending the opening invisibly and I invite you to collaborate with me by: WHISPERING YOUR HOPE TO THE AIR.
Bronx Hopes: From Riverdale to Hunts Point.
Linda Mary Montano has the gift of purging art of any of the unnecessary frills that might prevent it from overlapping with life. She strips her ideas to the bare bone, while my tendency is the opposite. Nonetheless, given our unique visions and particular approaches to art and life, several months ago we both found ways to agree to spend three days in my hometown, the Bronx, inviting people in the borough to share their hopes with us.
Our day one of the performance: Riverdale.
I am hesitant to travel from Longwood in the south, South Bronx to a fancy community closer to Manhattan than to my neighborhood. However, I feel responsible for faithfully following our pre-planned performance schedule. Linda and I ride with a taxi driver who does not have a clear picture of our exact destination. Riverdale seems so far removed from Longwood. In Riverdale, you have the impression of things being almost perfect, so there is not a single candy wrapper on the sidewalks. We spend an hour in this part of the Bronx in conversation with a thoughtful host who brings Arabs and Jews together for breaking bread. Linda and I leave the place with two brown bags containing falafels and with several hopes written on our backs. On the number 1 train we meet a group of teenagers and a handful of adults who inscribe their hopes on our clothes. At the Hub, a few blocks before reaching home, we encounter a passerby named Boobie. She writes on both of our hoodies. I vividly remember the woman in a wheelchair, not too far from where we meet Bobbie, who asks Linda to spell for her: “I hope to get my kids back.” In St. Mary’s Park, Linda and I unpack our falafels and eat them as we talk about hope.
Our day two of the performance: Riverdale: West Farms Road and the Grand Concourse.
Linda speaks with a group of students at an intermediate school about the subject of our quest: hope. The class is half-asleep, but eventually the children interject our questions with answers. A sick boy, who is comforted by a young teacher, regains his health surprisingly quickly. He smiles and joins the discussion. Children think twice before writing on our clothes, but soon enough they overcome their hesitation, as the adults in the room invite them to venture into art-life, to live a moment artfully, to break rules. On the other hand, while extremely polite, the staff at the school looks at the twins in white, Linda and I, with suspicion. Linda’s orange wig disrupts their monotonous, clerical routine. Art flirts with productivity.
Later that same day, seniors at a building not too far from the Zoo wait for us in a small room. As a result of some miscommunication, they expect us to give them t-shirts on which they can paint. Instead, they meet a middle-aged man and a woman of their own age who initiate a conversation on hope. The dialogue becomes heated as some of the seniors voice their thoughts about the lack of jobs for young people and the government’s interests in building jails instead of improving the economy. I promise one of them that I will spread the word about her request to get free tickets for the group to attend a play at a Bronx theater. I translate for six seniors called Las Comadres, the Godmothers. They write their hopes on our clothing in Spanish. Traveling from the seniors place in West Farms to Longwood, we watch a rowdy group of teens spill out onto the street outside the McDonald’s at the Prospect subway stop. We exit the scene swiftly. The police patrol the corner.
Our last visit that evening is to a Muslim Center on the Grand Concourse.
Angelika Rinnhofer, one of my former students at the Transart Institute comes from upstate New York to watch the performance. Shoes off. Linda and I climb up the stairs to meet some of the members. Some of the hopes they write match those written by many others, like “peace,” or address common needs in the borough: “Keep the Bronx Clean and Safe.” I ask myself whether these should be a hope or a right. We live in one of the wealthiest cities in the world, the Bronx included. The chanting on the lower floor counteracts the weight we carry on our clothes: so many hopes.
Our day three of the performance: Hunts Point.
A Community Development Corporation called The Point offers us a place where we are able to engage people at a women’s health festival. What a blissful ending. Linda and I meet inspiring teens, graffiti artists and a friendly chef. We eat arroz con gandules and drink lemonade. We step outdoors where a man in a van stops to write his hope on my sleeve. Linda gets several tags on her legs before leaving the scene, and the Bronx, for good. I cross the Bruckner full of hopes spelled on my legs, arms and hoodie. One of my shoes reads “courage.” The performance ends, yet people’s hopes outlive our three-day action.
Linda, I hope that you come back to the Bronx. Thank your for your mentorship and for three unforgettable days where art and life met.
Nicolas
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"Hope" is an independent project initially commissioned by Longwood Arts Gallery/ Bronx Council On The Arts as part of “Born Again,” a project conceived by Nicolas Dumit Estevez for Longwood Arts Gallery/ Bronx Council On The Arts.
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Photographs: Alex Villaluz
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