1) Sometimes when writing is hard, like today, I have to make a list of the things I want to tell you.

2) The last two weeks were pure magic. Though, by "pure" I mean the kind of perfection that embraces blemishes, scratch-outs and do-overs. By "magic" I mean magic.

3) I made a new piece. I would like to tell you about it, but every time I try, I end up saying something like, "you had to be there," which makes me feel like a bad writer and a jerk. How can I tell you about it? Maybe pictures. Here are some pictures.

4) I had prepared myself for surprises, I thought. Five days before the performance, I expressed the following affirmation:

I have fully embraced the fact that my work is uncontainable. I concede that I must collaborate with the universe, with the weather and with spacetime limitations. I accept that ambient noise, unforeseen illness, errors, chance and the fragmentation of light will all be credited with me. I grant some authorship to local insects, unwieldy children and those persons unable to soundlessly unwrap hard candy. I invite inspirational disruption, aberrant distraction, and random content not otherwise specified in to my process. I celebrate that the far and near history of those present will distort my intentions before they reach the eyes and ears of their carriers. These things I understand. Everything else, though. The rest of this. You are going to have to pry it from my hot little hands.

First of all, I was foolish in assuming I had covered all possible surprises with this list. Secondly, to give preemptive credit to "errors, chance and the fragmentation of light" may have been a mistake. (Foreshadowing alert.)

5) To prepare myself for the performance, I did some things every day: yoga and meditation, eating and sleeping. (Writing, dancing, showering, ice cream, whiskey and venturing away from the compound - those were more every other day.) To gather my wits about me, I snuck into the sanctuary once in a while to play Bach and sing the old songs. I did a lot of youtube research, gchatting, and poking in on Michelle, my studio neighbor. Michelle was probably the secret to my success. Me and Michelle would go outside to sit on the steps and try not to smoke cigarettes. We talked about health and beauty techniques, family dramz, art criticism and interpersonal communication, which is to say, mostly we talked about love. I mean romance love but I also mean the love we were trying to give to our work and to our parents, to our bodies, our guts, our imaginary friends and especially to people who weren't even alive anymore. It was funny because we kept thinking we messed it up a lot, forgetting that we can't mess it up really. Because love is bigger than we thought.

6) I have to skip a lot of things right now.

7) Ok, sorry. I'm going to tell you about the rest of it later, ok? I ran out of writing time today. I'm not really completely back yet in my brains and so I'm going to take a minute to re-enter my life and then I'll tell you about it. Is that alright? Thanks. Look at the pictures though, and send me an email or something. I love you guys.