Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Bog Face: detour:

Yes, the seasons of spring needed you. Some of the stars
made claims on you, so that you would feel them. In the past,
a wave rose up to reach you, or
as you walked by an open window
a violin gave itself to you. And this was your task.

I found this Rilke quote in a book about Frank O'Hara while riding the Shortline bus home from Ithaca after a morning spent naked under a sheet with a bloody squib tied to my head, pretending to get shot in the head by a Chilean TV star for a Bolivian film. Well, a film made by a Bolivian director. After each take I was rushed to the bathroom to wash the red corn syrup out of my hair and then have it dried as quickly as possible with three different hair dryers while someone attached another bloody squib - actually a condom - to my head. Then they would hustle back into the bed shouting "everybody close your eyes!" so I could drop my robe, and jump under the sheet. Two times the condom neglected to break (that's technically its duty,right?), once it leaked backwards all over my hair on the pillow and at least once it dribbled forward onto my face and neck as it was supposed to.

10:57 AM