I found a video that my friend took of my routine while I was still trying to figure it out...



Its pretty messy and its not the whole finished routine AND its sideways... But god I miss it...

Anyone could get on a trapeze.

Its a bar and two strings.

Many people could not fathom to do this.

Anyone could weave a piece of cloth.

Its strings woven into strings.

Many people cannot fathom this construction.


There is a dull vibrancy of this knowledge.

It is not anything anyone special has to do.

You don't need to be special in order to weave or sit on a bar.

People tell me I have a lot of courage to do the things I do. Really, like the length of this weaving I think that accusation is absurd. I'm not courageous to start an obscenely long weaving, I'm merely an idiot. It's not courageous to hang 20 feet in the air and do things the average person wouldn't dream of doing, its stupid.

I'm merely a fool and a jester, I just want to have all of the attention and make people smile at my absurdity.

I'm beginning to forget what its like to be on a trapeze... I've started trying to hang upsidedown from my bedframe... Its not the same... its completely stationary...

I bent backwards to immitate my contortion routines... its not the same...

This weaving about trapeze is not the same...

Photoshopping myself upsidedown... its not the same.

Only when I'm sleeping do I see.

Do I sleep to dream?

One day I will wake up and no longer be dreaming.

Life is but the dream of an angel.

Whenever I think of trapeze or other aerial things I think of black...

Like when I'm practicing, I practice in a black box theatre, every things black.

My pants I wear to practice are black, I usually wear a black tank top to practice as well...

I was upside down and the floor was closer than I thought. I hit my head on one swing forward and one swing backwards... I shut my eyes so tight I didn't know where I was anymore. My arm came up to cover myself, it took the rest of the blows that the floor was determined to give my head. I was in the fetal position, swinging right side up or down, it didn't matter. I couldn't breathe.

My head had made a disgusting cracking sound.

My eyes were shut so tight I saw a hundred colors like static on a tv.

I felt my weight lift. I was flying? Passing out?

I was lifted by all of the boys on the team away from my apparatus, I felt like a striken god that was falling.

When I opened my eyes it was just the bright lights that I saw, spinning. I was dizzy.

I was fine, just stunned.

I wove all day...

I think it's more exhausting than trapeze.

I watched the movie The Fall again just now...

I think... This sort of thing is what I mean to convey...

Bright, vibrant, happy colors. But something darker underneath the circus surface...

Little details that aren't meant to be noticed but when noticed are in their own right the most beautiful.

Circus arts are certainly colorful...

But my experience in more of a performance art sense hasn't been so wildly colored...

But it is by no means dull~

Today would have been out Matinee~

I wonder how our lighting would have been...

How the rain would have turned out looking...

Would I have messed up my solo?

Would anyone notice?

I miss it very much.

Opening night

Tonight would have been opening night.

It's 7 and in an hour i would have been performing.

Expecting the unexpected is the hardest thing.

An injury to one of my team prevented this show...

I don't know what opening night feels like...

Are there butterflies?

All I see is print paste and string...

Between branches and shadow there is a warm peering light, a dappled light. Like underwater except the surface isn't transparent.

A contortion of light and body.

To be free and on a trapeze is to be unable to move from that fixed point, yet to be high enough that no one can touch you.

Before an audience, you are a god. They can't imagine having the courage to do what you do.

You exhilarate them like a spot of dappled light through a tree's shadow on a chilled spring afternoon.

They fear for your fall for you. You need not fear because you are surefooted but they go cold and still with anticipation when you suddenly fall backwards. They look at the floor for you but you are hanging my your ankles.

Toying with them is what the world is worth, like the sun behind a cloud.

And then you go about standing up.

And centripetal doesn't want you to have anything to do about that unless you're in that sweet spot in the exact center. But your weight shifted a bit to the left and suddenly you're lunging and your spin is dwindling until you can stand straight again.

It's about equivalent to thinking you're going to go bring your friend a cake with some other friends but then you're told that you aren't invited. So you spend the rest of the day feeling nauseatingly lonely.

When you're at the top, you can be the only one there.

The color of flight and the fall...

What would that color be?

Of the sky?

Which sky?

Morning sun? In the rain? In the haze of summer morning light? In the bright unsaturated winter light? Through my window? Or on the other side of the building in shadow?

Afternoon light?

Dusk?

When the sun is red before rain in the summer?

Warm rain?

Night? The purest navy black?

The cloud coloration before it snows?

The kind where you can't look up at the sky without water falling in your eye so you never know the color?

Black? The void of all light?

White? The origin of light and color?

Psapp - Part Like Waves

I tackled the limits and then I fell down again.
Pulling the reigns to my chest, letting go again.

But we all fall down,
we are scattered on the ground.
And we part like waves
No one ever stays.

How many people do you know that can fly?

Most kids my age have several jobs, possibly a child or two and may or may not be married.

I weave cloth for kicks and after a day of weaving and dyeing cloth I climb ropes and spin in circles.

Clearly I am the most productive member of society.

There is nothing like being on a trapeze.

It is the most painful thing I have experienced but the only place where I feel free.

I sit on the metal bar and let myself fall backwards, catching myself by only my ankles.

There is a bruise on a strange part of my foot that only the lacing of boots have ever known the place of.

When I fall in this position, my head is six inches from the ground. I can touch the floor with my hand. When I look straight up, it is the floor I see, spinning in circles as I spin myself from my single point trapeze.

Black, swirling. Dust on the floor, a foot print..

To bring myself up is dizzying, a red hot flash and then suddenly, it's cool and breezy again as the blood leaves the inverted position of my head and a breeze swirls around me as I lean back, distributing my weight, slowing the spin. I clench my body close to itself again and it spins faster.

Spreading out slower.

Twisting, faster.

Rope comprised of many thin threads supports me.

A different kind of weaving.

What can keep me up and let me fall?