Posts Tagged ‘sorrow’

You said I was safe

Sunday, June 22nd, 2014

Friday, June 20th, 2014

“My words may not be pretty enough for you, but they are true and they are mine.” – Mariann Martland

Friday, May 23rd, 2014

“Nobody will protect you from your suffering.” ― Cheryl Strayed

Monday, October 28th, 2013

“Only two things can reveal life’s great secrets: suffering and love.” – Paulo Coelho

Well. That explains a lot.

Brothers: A tale of two sons

Monday, September 2nd, 2013

The game itself was equally amazing.

Saturday, January 19th, 2013

Was in the bath again, thinking about times in my life I’ve fallen deep, and started looking to my relationship with music.

Nirvana. Portishead. Dead Can Dance. Donnie Darko. Batman Begins. Amnesiac. Archive. Hula. The Fountain. Alice: Madness Returns.

All music I’ve lived, sunk deep into, invited into a certain significant flow of my life, lapping over the edges of my work in addition to welling up inside my spirit, have been the soundtracks for the times in my life, I find later, that I had been transforming my view of myself.

I never understood why my connection with music deepens and fades as I live my life until now.

In other news, I found myself considering that, perhaps, I am in my core simply too dynamic and shifting a person for a contemporary type of partnering to endure, and the trick, as it turns out, is finding a way to make that ok.

#differentwaystolookatdyingoldandalone (It’s not hashtag. It’s pound.)

Gatekeeper covering Lisa

Saturday, January 5th, 2013

Holy shit. It’s Liddell.

I don’t know if anyone else can hear it but me. She started taking over at 1:30, and letting go around 3:45.

Though it was seamless and natural while I did it, I don’t think I’ve ever cried so hard to something I’ve recorded before in my life as I realized what had happened while listening to it.

Holy shit.

I so feel for her but god she fucks up my life. She’s my muse and my tormentor. Fuck.

At least she’s talking again.

Or, at least I can hear her now.

Or whatever the fuck this is.

Friday, December 28th, 2012

Listening to KEXP play “Follow your dreams”. First time I have heard Drew and Joe together since right after the shooting. Had to pull over.

R.I.P. Zita the Aerialist, 2004-2012

Thursday, September 6th, 2012

This year, more than most and less than some, has been a year of letting things go and allowing new things in. In that vein, it seems another identifying aspect of my life has come to a close.

Once first recognizing mixed feelings regarding how to credit my aerial acts in “Embodied”, and after months of knowing the time was drawing closer, I have decided to retire Zita the Aerialist, and allow the domain (which now redirects here) to expire.

There is an air of sadness and loss here, alongside a sense that this is the right thing to do. The persona and the theatrically engineered aspect of what Zita has represented for me, along with the dreams I once had of sharing her with the world, performing in a circus or ongoing show like Zinzanni, has run its course. I know those things are not in the cards for me. It’s time to leave that game, officially, to the people who actually play it.

Courtnee – There's Something in the Air from Paul Hawxhurst on Vimeo.

Instead, I want to continue to work and focus through the sense of failure to the other side; The side which allows me to integrate aerial into my life with no pressures or expectations, and see what happens. Keeping Zita around, having the website around with no one calling for years, was like a thorn in my sole, a reminder of what I wanted her to be, irritating and distracting me.

But Zita, it turns out, was the mask that allowed for me to be, well, me.

I still teach aerial, more than I ever have in the past really, and consider aerial to be a big part of my life. I may also occasionally perform one-off aerial acts like the level 1 demonstration I did for the “Show and Tell” event at Versatile Arts, or a party now and then, though I don’t know what will come of my signature act. I suppose, honestly, with how few opportunities I’ve managed to create to perform it since the Little Red Studio dissolved, it doesn’t really matter very much.

Zita, you were great to me. At one time, I thought we might see the world together. I thought you might flesh out into your own little person, your own character. I thought maybe you’d be my ticket out of this country and to a place where we’d be appreciated more. Regardless of the thinness of your veil, you helped me find my strength when I thought I had none left. You allowed for me to express myself in ways that would have been hopelessly difficult to have achieved without your shield as I bled in the air for our audiences.

Thank you for being there for me.

I can do it myself, now.

Rest in Power, Zita.

You may have seen Zita at:

I have trained with the following teachers and institutions:

  • Versatile Arts (Silks, Rope, Trapeze, Sling, Duo Trapeze and Duo Silks)
  • School of Acrobatics and New Circus Arts (Everything!)
  • Bobby Hedglin-taylor (Silks)
  • The Toronto School of Circus Arts (Static trapeze, Silks, Corde Lisse)
  • The Cabiri (Fire eating, Character Portrayal, Static Trapeze, Aerial Sling)
  • Trapezius (Corde Lisse, Static Trapeze, Aerial Hoop, Silks)
  • The UMO Ensemble (Aerial Hoop, Low Flying Trapeze)
  • Donia Love, formally of Ignis Devoco (Fire Spinning)

“Madness lingers” – Music from Alice

Thursday, April 26th, 2012

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Earlier this year, partially due to extended illness, I became deeply entrenched in the game Alice: Madness Returns, which is the sequel to American McGee’s Alice. It’s the first game I’ve really sunk my teeth into in a decade, and once I did that, I thrashed it around in my mouth like a rabid bulldog for weeks.

I found myself relating to the visuals, storyline and music in the sequal even more than I had the original, and in ways I can’t summarize quickly. There were even pieces of my original songs that stuck out in this soundtrack. The feel and movement of the audio in the game has, but especially had then, a sinisterly heavenly feel to it. It overtook me, gave me nightmares, personified my own flavor of festering pain I’d refluxed up at the time, and extended its hand to me.

In a word, it was fucking beautiful.

I don’t recall how I stumbled across wickedslicks1003‘s game extensions on youtube, but I did, and I’m glad for it. I still try to fall asleep to this stuff sometimes, but because I still have really fucked up dreams when I do that, I mostly listen to it as background and sing with it. I imagine at some point soon I will make good on my priority to learn how to play some of it, and I won’t be surprised if some of this music makes its way into Obsidian next year.

Above isa flash-player offering my favorite of the games musical pieces, extended into ~10 minute long tracks.

Below, one of my interpretations.


Wednesday, April 4th, 2012

While petting and comforting me last night: “You will find yourself again, soon.” – Edgars Klepers

Wednesday, March 28th, 2012

“Anyone who has been depressed knows this fundamental truth:
There are too many of us.”

– Tito Titus


Saturday, August 13th, 2011

I went back out there again. I can’t pass by the Dillard Rd. exit without going miles into nowhere to go drive by that lot and that shack and that tiny store along those uneasily familiar roads. My face is low and slack with a resigned, defeated horror from the moment I turn off the highway. My eyes immediately wet in a stinging regret as I do it, and still I’m compelled, and still there is simply something right about going out there and feeling through this.

This time I added the school I went to. I sat in the bus-only lane looking at my 3rd grade classroom, appearing even more like a prison than 20 years ago. The entire place is chainlinked now, the kids get locked in, and all the grass is paved over. Near one of the gates is a large sign explaining the school is overcrowded and it’s possible kids will get bussed elsewhere or simply transferred outright. The sprinklers watered the pavement rather than the grass. I’d forgotten that in the lot next door is a cemetery. That place was so fucking depressing I didn’t even consider taking a picture.

Whatever is still here for me is out there somewhere. I went to both the elementry schools I went to before and after Pleasant Grove and neither of them were so wretching. Leimbach was actually heartwarming, the school looks great. I went to the house my mother broke the windows out of when I was in 6th grade and remained largely unaffected. Yet looking at the new house that’s on the piece of land where the trailer we lived in once was, I fought the overwhelming urge to drag my wilted, bereaved self to their doorstep, crying like a mad woman.

I wanted to meet them. I wanted to tell them I grew up there, I didn’t know why I’d come, shivering like a tiny monster in the middle of the night. Some part of me hoped they’d recognize me, end up being the kids of the original landlords or something. I wanted them to take me in, to feed me, to comfort me and tell me it was ok for me to reach out, to show me their house and tell me what happened to mine.

I wanted to sleep out there somewhere. In a bush that I’d spend all day tomorrow picking out of my socks or on a floor or in my room that was either freezing or way too warm with that doll lamp and the adult contemporary radio station playing and that huge, deafening fan I insisted upon having on me so I could curl up under my thrashing sheet and pretend I was weathering an intense storm outside.

I was so. Fucking. Lonely. Out there.

Wednesday, September 29th, 2010

‎”grief is what we call it when we have experienced love.” – Sophia Sky