Performing Sleeplessness

I feel like I should post because I haven’t in a long time, and because when I look at this “Journal” I don’t want the last post staring me at the face to be the one about my dog dying. I’ll keep it short. Or better yet, just give you a bunch of pictures to look at. Nobody likes to read on-line anyways. At least I don’t. I don’t really like to write on-line either. I just do it because well, sometimes it feels like the way to connect to people, just like going into the kitchen after midnight when I’m not hungry feels like the way to make really great work.I guess I shouldn’t judge either processes, but, there are better ways I’m sure. I mean, it’s all about process, right? That’s why I’m going to see The Hotdogger Wednesday night for his corn dog crud (which we’re so grateful for). That’s why we wash our clothes in our used bath water with Dr. Bonner’s (a little extreme and laborious, I know). Because how we live our lives can expand that space of light and inspiration that we find in moments unmarred by time. I’m still working on my vision.

Here’s a picture of our last performance in our house.


Cute baby, huh. Our neighbor’s. That’s Angela and Kori before the camera. I’m across the table from Dylan performing Storyteller with Sora asleep over my shoulder. She nursed part of the performance, kind of like the last one we did for the opening of the Human Trafficking conference. I think I wrote about it somewhere on this site: wearing her on my back; sitting cross legged on stage with mic in one hand nursing Sora on my lap. I am often just outside of the frame.

Here is a picture of the documentation of the performance.


Here’s a picture of the girls over Christmas.


Here’s a picture of me: ZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

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