🎐
Why do I even want to rewrite the past
Turbulent time calls for extreme measures
Learning to love my questions
Is its own adventure
Further Your agates enclose a half written bitter The same insignificance has a new look If I’m honest your little girl’s jealousy Writes a better hook Good For a moment, sky was all purple King spoke a new language, nonverbal Fate drew a semi circle You drove, I held a vigil Before I go
This love I can never repay
This affinity is infinite, and this you know
This new ink on my blue skin
Begins to glow
A Cooperative Conversation 🫛 Join Thursday June 13th to explore work and futures together with four creative co-ops. RSVP for free at link in bio.
FEATURING:
Paprika Xu @paprikaxu — Common.coop
Georgia Kareola @georgiakareola — Neo-Metabolism
Gemma Copeland @gemcopeland — Common Knowledge
Bryan Wolff @bryanfwolff — post-office
— and you!
19.00 doors
19.30 sharp start
Cold beers in fridge
Otherwise BEOB
(Bring Each Other Beverages)
Memorial MMXXIII (4): Gabe asked me to write a poem about home, when I told him that I felt homesick so much that I don’t even know where home is. The result was that Gabe ended up writing me this poem about home which became one of my fav of the year.
As to my other favorite thing of the year, it’s messaging Liv. I thank god for her. Whichever god there is.
Happy new year.
—
I was adding to the poem today,
listening to music as I went,
and the thought that carried me
was that I would see you again.
It took me through the mystery of future
because we’re miles away but I am certain
we will meet again.
The question of home is moot
when we live in past and future selves,
aiming for a present
that is either before or after now.
Either way I love you,
what you meant
and what you may mean.
Memorial MMXXIII (3): Here are some 3 of Cups moments.
—
• I look to my fire sign girls for heart and laughters;
• I look to my earth sign guys for resourcefulness and stability;
• Always support the bubba’s head even when smooching them;
• Always hug your friends.
Memorial MMXXIII (2): Cycles are neither linear nor circular. Strict linearity and circularity both exist in narratives, made by us for our pattern seeking brain to construct mental systems so it can cope. There is moment, moments, perhaps. Something we are lucky to grasp.
Crisis is not the word of the day, we seek escapes and revenge. It’s the bottom of hell’s rat race, people of good conscience are naturally repelled by it. I’d always remember when I told Jordan my crisis, his eyes lit up and said to me: “I’m so excited for you”.
The danger though is that crisis can be your gateway drug that will take you down the slippery slope all the way back to escapes and revenge. Hamsters of fate.
—
1-3,5: Grateful for Cayden & Freya for sharing their most gorgeous wedding with me, and bringing me back there
4: 5 years ago today, the crisis moment
6: Christmas eve this year, my oak tree decided to lose its biggest limb, that crisis moment again
7: 2nd birth parents
8: Walking New Zealand, again
Memorial MMXXIII (1): Cycles are thresholds; portals to pass through, one world to another; markers on the stonewall, keepers of faith. Some things end so others may begin.
—
1-2: Watershed
3-4: Lisboa moonrise, where the real watershed happens
5-9: Kins in Amsterdam, feeling held
10: Ben turning on the internet
11: Ben, Kirsten on air at Good time bad time radio
12: Walking Helsinki
“Hi Paprika,
Another year has rolled around,we still remember you.
I hope your happy and healthy wherever you are and that you have a great 2023.”
My eyes wetted the moment this email popped up on my phone tonight, it was from the granny who saved me 4 years ago, on the New Year’s Eve.
It’s true - these moments of crises, the zero degree mornings; it’s also true that airports grow weary, and yet it comes new leaves. ⛰️🤍
The Rules of Three
For one, to die
is to lose oneself
and join the other
two, throw rocks at the wall
to never arrive
and yet does, unbeknownst
to the in-betweenness in amongst
us
three, walking together
to have gathered the constellation woven
from seven relations, one’s
taught me patience, twice
with my own permissions, to attend
to the undecidable probability
come what may, a trio
of dreamers awake to conjure worlds
only all the more real, for me, myself
and I, nevertheless, grow to believe:
in treespeech;
old buildings;
knowing that I can not know, yet find poetry
where poetry is found.
—
#time#33
“Parks and gardens shape our experience through a careful combination of regularity and irregularity. Here we may find beds of flowers - alike in shape, yet each unique in color or fragrance.
Elsewhere, we might break the rhythm of simple geometry with shade trees or hedges, a pond or a boulder. This crafted irregularity engages our senses by offering the promise of the unexpected without the threat of the wilderness.” Bernstein, 1998.
—
#CommonEthos
Complexity (not chaos) and intricacy invites deeper engagement and more thoughtful explorations.
