It was early September when I scrolled through Instagram in the City View Lounge at Ballet Austin, eating a whole-wheat turkey-celery wrap, and rushed into the audition room almost late and sans makeup. I thought I had this in the bag; after all, I was a junior (one of the oldest in the group; they couldn’t possibly make a junior a Cavalry/Chinese), and grace was one of my few strong suits in ballet. At least, I thought so.
We started out doing Clara’s variation, one group at a time, so that Steven Mills and Mr. Piner could see. Who knows, I thought (half-rueful, half-serious), maybe they want a Chinese Clara this year—maybe I really am beautiful enough. I didn’t entertain these visions for long (although now, looking back, I wonder how many of my other classmates had similar thoughts). Continue reading
It’s okay to cry: no
He tilted his skinny skates at 4pm: yes
(I sped glibly, it was thrumming slick-black except)
Do you remember, it’s been a month: no
It’s been 64 days and (I’m) counting until it’s my turn
(the gold flashing,)
glare at me paleface heave on that inky MASCara in wildlike jags burn it into your muscle and hair I swear it will help clutch me scream me wet my shoulder eyes
GOD I MISS HIM. Continue reading
[inspired by post-Bolivia hardship]
Hello, I I I know you’re there I I I feel your tendrils snagging my lungs I I know you’re defeated that Christ is victorious I I STOP peel flesh off my lips with meticulous nails GO AWAY stop stealing the joy give it back! give it back I I I know it’s there it was glowing and bathing my brain with great warm waves, ecstasy, and I was drunk I I I know with Holy Spirit and perfect plan and fruition of months’ work and PURE joy happiness I I cling it back, scrape my nipples with wrists and the limbs clenching I CLAIM IT God help me, don’t you dare infect my light I I I hate your shrieking weight in my muscle-threads, you, yes YOU I SEE YOU try and stick your nozzles through my skull and pump in your self-loathing, inky, seeping oily everywhere I I I won’t allow it I I I got Jesus and the Father with their swords of flame and light and YOU WILL NOT WIN I swear it STOP my earlobes dragging my buzzing head into the dirt, beneath salt-crunched bone WHY WHY does it give you such pleasure to wring the veins?