Praxinoscope: Months of the Year: PerformX Documents

PRAXINOSCOPE

PerformX | Documents No. 1

Los Angeles, California February 20, 2022 months of the year

02-20-2022

1642 Bar Los Angeles California

Derek Denckla, Editor

Subscribe to Online Journal

PRAXINOSCOPE

Twelve works Performed 02-20-2022

1642 Bar Los Angeles California

Derek Denckla, Editor

Title: Praxinoscope: PerformX Documents

Volume: No. 1: February 20, 2022: Months of the Year

Volume compilation, introduction, editorial and back matter Copyright © 2022 by Derek A. Denckla (aka Praxinoscope, PraxinoscopeX)

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the permission (or acknowledgment) of the publisher.

Published in the United States of America by Derek Denckla / Praxinoscope

All of the materials in this volume is reprinted with permission of the holders of copyright and publishing rights.

Distributed by Praxinoscope and Derek Denckla

Library of Congress ISBN 979-8-9863355-0-6.

ISSN 2832-3394.

First Printing Release Date: May 27, 2022

Edited by: Derek Denckla

Assistant Editor: Matthew Bussa

Logo by: Monte Antrim

Layout and cover by: Tattfoo Tan

JANUARY | 01

llanuari

| Sound Poem | BY Blanca Bercial

FEBRUARY | 02

The Age We Live In | Song | BY Margot White

MARCH | 03

a glimpse into verbal disappointment / arithmetics was hard | Play in Four Acts | BY Emji Saint Spero and Jeremy Kennedy

APRIL | 07 April

| Poem | BY Aaron Joseph

MAY | 08

The Postcard Poems | Poem | BY Emily Iris

JUNE | 09

In June

| Poem | BY Alexandria Hall

JULY | 10

Down Over Up The Street | Experimental Short Film | BY Alsea Diana

AUGUST | 11

Honduras, August 2015 | Poem | BY Brenda Vaca

SEPTEMBER | 14

Embers Sept Embers

| Sound Poem | BY Derek Denckla

OCTOBER | 15

Mantras

| Poem | BY Tyler Lenn Bradley

NOVEMBER | 18

A Well of Effervescent Gratitude | Poem | BY Jennifer Leiva

DECEMBER | 19

My Boyfriend Comes Home From Wars Every Day | Poem + Sound | BY Sang Chi Liu

Thank you for your interest in perusing Praxinoscope PerformX Documents, Volume No. 1.

The documents (text, image, and commentary) included in Volume No. 1 are derived from works originally performed live on Feburary 20, 2022 at 1642 Bar in Los Angeles, California.

All of the original artworks were performed by the artists themselves, except for the recording of the sound artwork of Blanca Bernal introduced by Sang Chi Liu and the poem of Aaron Joseph presented by Matthew Bussa.

Praxinoscope is a quarterly performance and publishing platform presenting an evening of twelve brief works that each respond to a central theme.

Praxinoscope arose from desires born in the lonely days of making art in isolation or online during the long pandemic — wishing for a platform to gather, share intentions and make something bigger than our own work.

Praxinoscope brings together a mix of artists who practice diverse creative approaches to performance — readings, scripts, music, audio, dance and short film — seeking to develop a synergetic arts community.

We curate a hybrid and dynamic platform for PerformX freed from usual delineated, separated, and isolated channels for each discipline — readings at bookstores, music at clubs, films at screening rooms, and plays at theaters. Ours is a Big Tent approach scaled to a Cozy Refuge setting.

Praxinoscope takes its name from a visionary Victorian Era animation device: a cylinder spinning twelve slightly different images — creating the illusion of motion.

On the East Side — in the long shadow of the motion picture industry — located nearby in Hollywood — we interpose a platform that recalls the invention of motion pictures.

Motion pictures began with the turning of the human hand — the hand on the paintbrush that colored the twelve images on the strip of paper later turned by another hand on the crank of the device that would spin the images into motion — experienced in an intimate setting of a sitting parlor or salon.

Also, on February 20, 2022, simultaneously to the launch date of PerformX platform, an antique Praxinoscope device was prominently displayed at the opening of the exhibition, “City of Cinema: Paris 1850–1907” at Los Angeles Contemporary Museum of Art (LACMA). Something synchronized.

We hope that you enjoy all of the rich documents from our initial performance of Praxinoscope.

llanuari

|

Sound Poem | BY Blanca

Bercial

How does January sound?

Google answers > jan·yoo·eh·ree

I have found an online voice generator where I could type any word to be pronounced by different voices.

“Insert your text here”

“January”

Next to it, there was a scrolling drop-down where I could choose from over 20 names: Alex, Fred, Samantha, Victoria, Daniel, Fiona, Karen, Moira, Rishi, Tessa, Veena, Alice, Alva, Amelie, Anna, Carmit, Damayanti, Diego, Ellen, Ioana, Joana, Jorge, Juan, Kanya, Kyoko, Laura, Lekha, Luca, Luciana, Maged, Mariska, Mei-Jia, Melina, Milena, Monica, Nora, Paulina, Sara, Satu, Sin-ji, Thomas, Ting-Ting, Xander, Yelda , Yuna, Yuri, Zosia, Zuzana.

I could choose for each one of them to read January out loud. I did.

The pronunciation of “January” replicates strong accents speaking in English from their associated nationalities.

Who decides the voices that our technology has? Is it a male, female, non-binary voice? Is it soft? High pitched? Is it sensual? Is it hoarse? The voices are personified by geographical designated names and their corresponding accent in English. The prejudice is noticeable.

I recorded the sound of each one of those voices pronouncing “January” and passed them through a variety of filters using a Digital Audio Workstation until January slightly detached from its semantical properties. The musicality of the accents shadowed the meaning of the word, and by the various possibilities of pronouncing one same word, January became a multiplicity of sounds.

How does January sound? What are its sound properties? What feelings might the sound of January evoke?

JANUARY

The Age We Live In

| Song | BY Margot White

verse i

There is a door that knows the sound of life

One woman laughing while the other cries toasting to the mercury of a naked hour experience the name men give extravagant sorrows hoping we will believe

chorus

This is the age we live in

This the age we live

This is the age we live in

This is the age we live

This is a place to begin in

Place to begin

Live live, live live again

verse ii

The shock of the age could break a continent in two behind me a world is destroyed for good ahead lies the first ember of future grace while I linger at the linen of his pillowcase a ghost near its strange gold fire

chorus

This is the age we live in

This the age we live

This is the age we live in

This is the age we live

This is a place to begin in

Place to begin

Live live, live live again

verse iii

I wait on your footsteps like in a dream

How high the flame atop the candle you bring it leaps with every laugh betrays the joy you give me for my heart breaks that we will stand here but once, my spirit soars to know this moment in another form,

chorus

This is the age we live in

This the age we live

This is the age we live in

This is the age we live

This is a place to begin in

Place to begin live live, live live again

a glimpse into verbal disappointment / arithmetics was hard | Play in Four Acts | BY Emji Saint Spero and Jeremy Kennedy

Characters

A - emji saint spero

B - jeremy kennedy

MS. MEGA MIC - performing as herself

act one

They said they drink martinis

A: Mars.

B: March.

A: March of Dimes?

B: March of Dames?

A: Martius.

B: You mean.

A: Martiale.

B: Maybe be…

A: Martians.

B: Of which?

A: Marssssssah.

B: No, Martius.

A: More or less.

B: Marachun.

A: Maraschino…or Macron?

B: March Madness?

A: Mad mad m-m-mad madd dah. Ma duh lib.

Ma…duh. Mo…dah.

B: Oh…more dub.

A: Folie à deux.

B: Folie for shore.

A: Like that one time.

B: Mmm…

A: When we dressed them in animal skins and beat them and drove them five miles out of town.

B: Mmmmm…the motor boat?

B: Her brother was definitely a competent swimmer, but his body was never found in the…

Both: Mmmmm…madness.

B: Or what if…

A: Do we really have to do this right now?

B: Martell? Mattel?

A: More moron.

B: More like macaroon.

A: Macaroon as in if madness.

B: Monthly.

A: Manually...

B: Musually.

Both: (pause) Unfortunately.

A: Martius?

B: Martini?

A: Gin.

B: Madness.

A: Martini madness!

Both look toward the host. The host brings their byo-martinis to them, then leaves. A and B sit down to drink their martinis. B does the “Riker Maneuver” to get into their chair.

Both: Chairs!

They perform the Chairs Ritual. This typically involves clinking glasses together, banging the table, excessive eye contact, and occasional slurping. Often with one correcting the other when they forget to perform one of the gestures. Other more elaborate takes on the Chairs Ritual may be observed.

(very long pause)

They drink martinis in silence for one minute. They try not to look at one another. It’s a bit awkward. A puts their head down on the table. B walks to the wings, changes into chill, ruinable clothes, and picks up MS. MEGA MIC.

MS. MEGA MIC: YAYYYYY.

B: Beware the eyes…um…no. The ides yeah, yeah the ides. Beware the ides of March.

A: Actually. Beware the beginning of National Poison Prevention Week.

B crosses in front of A from stage left.

A: Actually…do you have any water?

B: Yeah, there is some water over here.

B crosses to stage right to retrieve a water bottle and returns to mark and hands water bottle to A.

A: Oh.

A drops water bottle. [Cymbal tap x2]

act two

Lets get food

A: So…where can you get food around here?

B: Actually I have a list on me right now.

B pulls out the list and reads from it.

B: (casual, nonchalant) Tribal’s across the street. Plant-based tiki vibes. Huge sandwiches. Every food’s the same food. Different names tho. Mickey D’s up the street. Drive thru only.

Umm…Tamales Alberto, Tania’s Tacos…Umm…

Oh, if you like Mexican, there’s El Pollo Loco down in some ravine over there. Leo’s Tacos, over there. They have a car wash, if you have a car.

A: (aside) Oh gawwd.

A walks off. Grabs scissors, a razor, and shaving cream, and returns. B doesn’t notice any of this, just keeps listing off some other other bullshit. A lift B’s arm up over their head. It stays there. A cuts a hole in B’s shirt, exposing their armpit. A puts arm cream in armpit. It’s not squeeze. It doesn’t get everywhere. A proceeds to shave B’s armpit. B continues not to notice, etc etc. Two different worlds connected at the armpit.

B: Hospital coffee across the street. Coffee. Hospital.

Um. Don’t go to the Chevron. (robotic) S.I.S.I.G… S.I.S.I.G….s.i.s.i.g…Famous last words. S.I.S.I.G.

MS. MEGA MIC: GGGrrraaa PIZZA! ON GLENDALE! Their dough is sour.

B: George’s liquor store’s by the overpass. It doesn’t say George’s on the outside.

Vertical sign with two S’s above the word liquor. Unfortunate type design. Looks like it says SS liquor…or sliquor.

Swan boats. Has a cafe. You can take food out on

the Swan Boats. And non-adult beverages. Fishing is also permitted.

Dollar hits. It’s not actually a dollar store. Yelp says “pet-friendly bbq in the parking lot.”

Oh. There’s that funeral home over on Edgeware. It’s in a victorian house between two other victorian houses. Croissants. Finger sandwiches. Rap snacks. That sort of thing.

Rideback Ranch. Walk-up SF-import eco-boba experience.

Target. There’s always Target.

Doubting Thomas. Women-owned pastries. DL christianmingle speed dating site.

Hifi. Planters are speakers.

Gus’s drive-in. Stingy with the condiments. Taco Bell by the Tommy’s.

A stops doing activity. Pays attention. Is interested in Taco Bell.

A: Taco Bell?

B: Has a walk-up window. Don’t do delivery. They won’t give you all the sauces. I mean it’s not like I hate Taco Bell or anything. Some of my best friends are bellhops.

Actually, Del Taco. Del Taco is very much better in price per unit and hot sauce, and if you go inside the covid store…

Both (overlapping): You can get as many sauces as you want. Who cares what Ingrid Bergman or your mom really say…

A: You got your mild, you got your delscorcho, and you got your delferno. you even got your one hundred fifty count 3 bucket combo containing all three popular fatherfucking flavors.

A: Del Taco Bell?

B: Thunderbolt. Oh, and there’s always Nancy Silverton’s Osteria Mozza, but it’s a bit of a walk. Might want to call ahead—

A: (interrupting)—Wait. You’ve done this piece before. I said on Instagram that we’re doing new plays. Let’s just get delivery…

B: It’s not delivery. It’s Digi, or no.

A: You’ve done that piece before also.

B: Oh. (pause) Have you heard the one and only joke about how that person of singular cent saved money at the barbershop?

A: No way.

B: A penny shaved, a penny, then shaved!

A: No way. (pause) Oh.

B: I have snacks.

B pulls bag of chips out of their bag. B massages the chips, rocking them back and forth on the table, gently. Like a cat. Or a baby.

A: Can I stab it?

B: No. Shh. It’s almost asleep.

A: I learned how to stab like this the other day. You hold the knife backward so you don’t cut your wrist.

B: You’re gonna wake it up. See?

A: It’s time, it’s time, it’s is time to be awake.

B: Do you always wake people up by stabbing them?

A shrugs.

B: Snacktime for democracy!

A: Things are different now!

act three

Cabaret Volterror

Lights out. Sound piece hard start, lasts 30 seconds, then hard stop.

While music is happening, A stands on stage in the dark not moving. B puts on Solstice robe in the wings. After music cuts out, A begins measuring the distance between themselves and things, becoming the center of the universe. A says the names of the things and shouts out measurements of the distance between the center of the universe and the thing. ex: “Martini! 46 inches!”... etc etc. This happens for a while. As this continues, the names they are shouting no longer correspond to the things.

B enters. Chaos ensues. B reads from Glimpses into the Long Ago by Edna McGuire, with pictures by George M. Richards. Collab w/ MS. MEGA MIC. This happens for a while.

MS. MEGA MIC: HelloOoo.

Both stop. B changes out of robe. Things chill out again.

act

four

Let’s get food again

A scene at table-blue. Any single day of the week.

A: So like, what do you want? Like, what sounds good?

B: I know some things are fries. Anything fried really. Dumplings or fries.

A: (muttering to self, mostly) Okay. So at 30% off $12 Plus DoorDash and DoorDash dash $30 is off and 12 bucks. That’s expired. Okay. Was Grub Grubhug oh. 50% or 15 and zero delivery. So good. Expires today, so we should use it. Okay, so I’ll like that. You know, second bring us that thing though. So…fried things. Like, like do they need to be from a restaurant or can they be?

You get them. Knocked the restaurant?

Okay. Okay. $15.

B: You don’t have an oven.

A: Yeah. It’s a bummer when it comes to french fries and pizzas. And I don’t really eat pizza. But anyway, if I did, it would be a bummer for pizza… Absolutely.

Okay, so…god damn it. Fuck. Okay, I can get fries from here. So, what the deal is, like, it’s 10 off the 20. So you want to get $20 worth of the French fries?

B: No.

A: Like actually is as well. Okay. So. I mean, like, it was just like Carl’s Jr. That’s okay. Right. Yeah. That’s great. Okay, so..oh. They also have a veggie burger. But beyond the burger thing. So I mean, like, you could easily like, rack up like, 20 bucks here. I mean, like, not that we want the other stuff, but that way you get free delivery. Because otherwise it’s gonna be like $7.99 delivery fee, or, like the, the rate thing. So get that off of there. So I mean, it’s really, like worthwhile. I mean, like, there could be like food hanging out. Oh, wait, hold on. Okay, so that expires tomorrow. The other one expires today. So…it might be better to just go ahead and use that one. I’m trying to figure out how to use.

Oh, I see.

Okay, so just keep that. Like Instacart is okay. So I

actually have like a credit, whatever you call it, on like Instacart. Because they fucked up. And was that? Okay? So oh, you can get 20 bucks off. But it’s groceries. But it’s 20 bucks off like, anything. So, but if we went to a restaurant. Oh, shut up. Actually. Nevermind, that expired. Oh, and it was 2003. Whatever. Okay. So go back to Uber Eats. Okay, so I think this might be the best deal.

Where that means we got to order $20 worth of stuff. You know, or $20 worth of stuff from 7-11. Yeah, they have those pizzas.

A pauses, looks up at B. Sudden onset self-awareness.

A: Yeah, I know. Hashtag metoo.

B: Epstein didn’t kill himself.

A: (ignoring B) But, okay, so that’s…oh, okay. So here’s the thing like, we can combine, like do you want any booze? Because like $15 off of booze right now. So if we order from a grocery store, you get $15 off the booze. And free delivery? Like $30 worth of stuff.

Now it’s booze.

Yeah, so it’s like booze combo with fries. And like, heat it up? But well, okay, so what if I could find like a dump with $30? Yes.

B: It’s almost 9:30.

A: Yeah, it’s 9:30. Yes, we got it. We got it. We got to take the end times we got to pull the trigger now.

B: It’s kind of like it’s too late again. It’s 9:30. If you order now they’re gonna cancel you. Through what? You lose all your options after 9:30. Everybody knows that.

A: No. It’s not.

B: It’s not what?

A: It’s not time yet.

B: Oh.

(very long pause)

B: Can I scream into your mouth?

A: Sure. Okay.

Both take huge in-n-out breaths. B screams into A’s mouth. A holds their breath until they pass out. Sort of. At least they tried.

A: Can I scream into your mouth?

B: No.

B reads closing line from Glimpses into the Long Ago by Edna McGuire, with pictures by George M. Richards.

B: Who cares what fucking Inreed Bergman film it is, it’s a fucking Ingredient Bergman film.

(long pause)

A: Yeah.

April

| Poem | BY Aaron Joseph

Fool

With inner peace from a laundromat.

Nothing is falling apart you say to the insomniac.

Falling with style as you clean your toys before months end waiting for the party to begin.

Milestones skipping across lake beds of figs and newton apples pounding your head like the headache you had last month that hasn’t gone away.

And you would go to the hospital for your sinus infection except it is overrun with giraffes and zebras.

Allergies

Heart beats with a furious command over multiple trips to walgreens for tissues and might as well pick up roaring rapid test kits for your negative attitude syndrome.

You itch your eyes even though you’re not supposed to but you itch your eyes for some relief from the constant state of being and you itch and you itch and your cotton candy eyes scare away the children from the fair.

Showers

Out in the desert mischievous heathens and stevens kick dust into the stratosphere to nourish catalina islands all for the glory of saying they might have memories of a starlight

They see too much of, read too much of, tweet too much about, all for nothing.

Only for it to be repeated again next weekend.

Only for the cattle drive to waltz in with their holstered dildos and patriotic flags. The madness is over and the taxes are due. A third of the way into the year.

The Postcards Poems

| Poem | BY Emily Iris

Flying Fish

popped out in a spray, birdshot, by the dozens —

a droplet flicked to cast iron just beginning to smoke

tinsel caught the sun in a glint, the strike of flint

Los Angeles

I wish I could skin the tortoiseshell light reflecting from the surface of that pool to wear as a mantle, like Mary, her cornflower swapped for cerulean shimmer

Grackles

hopping on the cement coal bed with wings chromatic like spilled gasoline, cawed over the fried conch crumbled across the napkin bouquet at our feet

In June

| Poem | BY Alexandria Hall

1.

Time dilated in the empty house. At night, watching the streetlight, no cars on the road, it returned to me—the wicked little thrill that handles the wind chimes.

2.

A hole over which my life was draped. A slip, a leak, a little break. I could not bring myself to look.

3.

Summer was a door we couldn’t fully open. We wedged our bodies into it and pushed. I waited up to feel a change. Boats rocked on the harbor. I waited up.

4.

I was caught up, forgetful, moved by leavening daylight. There were wet leaves pressed at the living room window. There were cigarette butts in the milk glass mug.

5.

He cleaned up after dinner. I walked the dog past the vacant lot and heard the intimate discourse of palm leaves knocking into each other.

6.

I loved and was ordinary. It must have slipped my mind. Every thought I had was a secret, a strange car pulling into the drive.

Down Over Up The Street

| Experimental Short Film | BY Alsea Diana [featuring Writer & Musician Brontez Purnell]

Artist’s Epigraph

hi everyone~

i went back to the girl’s apartment today and she wasn’t home. i think something might have happened to her. 9 thinks so too.

i wish i could have shared her with you.

it’s getting harder and harder to feel with falling. harder to see clearly through the noise. harder to find comfort in distance. 9 was my first time with my bare hands and she’s still with me. i went back to a knife for 10 and it was like she didn’t even exist beyond wherever i was inside of her and now she’s gone. how did i exist to her? am i gone too?

i was inside her and now she’s gone. how did i exist to her? am i gone too?

Video Transcript

SCENE ONE: Exterior. Night.

[B Walking along a hedgerow on a sidewalk on a street somewhere in Historic Filipinotown, Los Angeles, California.]

B [to A]: your dress is gorgeous your dress is gorgeous it’s so gorgeous

oh i’m so fucking over oakland and like you know us in oakland pretending that we’re in this like marxist fever dream — shit — or whatever don’t you love

like when all the oakland girls come to L.A. when the oakland girls come to L.A. we become capitalists — you know i’m saying we’re finally like — oh the oakland girls are in L.A.— oh capitalism — oh expansiveness — oh they should pay for our image — you know

there was like this one guy he was like puerto rican — a santeria santo or whatever i’m personally vodoon — i practice vodoon —you know

and i put the wrap on his head and um he was looking at my body and he was just like — oh yeah you’re silk yeah your beautiful black silk it’s like you represent abundance

now it’s like i represent abundance like [ __ ] have you seen my chase bank account it’s like negative 0.3

or whatever but he was still into it

but yeah like in oakland it’s like cool to be poor but in L.A. like you don’t tell people you’re poor do you know what i mean?

SCENE TWO: Interior. Apartment. Night. [B sits next to a window under a string of electric lights — A is recording him while he strums a guitar and sings.]

B: [Singing and strumming, softly, as if to himself.]

i’m happy to live anywhere i’m happy to live anywhere i’m happy to live i’m happy to love

A [to B]: why do you keep looking over there to the left?

B: i keep seeing my reflection

A: there’s no mirror over there

B: no — there’s a reflection there — it’s it’s the window the window it’s a pool — we’re not in oakland we’re in los angeles we’re not in oakland we’re in los angeles

A: where do you think you are right now?

B: i am in oakland in los angeles i’m in oakland in los angeles oakland is in los angeles oakland is in los angeles — right?

Honduras, August 2015

| Poem | BY Brenda Vaca

Cut into thick jungle in Honduras: a little church received this sweaty group fresh arrived from the good ol’ US of A. Legs swelling with mosquito bites, deet burning skin, I thanked God for the cold showers that reminded me of my family’s home in Mexicali and my first love’s mama’s shower on Bonnie Brae en la cuidad de Nuestra Señora de Los Angeles. Tongva Territory.

Eyes feasted on the green foliage all around us. Heart stunned as we rode passed hectares y hectares of oil palm tree plantations. Oil extracted from each fruit. Illegal and violent invasions that poison land and water. Hectares burned to the ground. A trail of assassinations, capitalistic contagion leaving it’s mark. Atlántida department invaded and burned.

That August, I was traveling with an interfaith group. On paper we were called a delegation but in prayer circles we called ourselves peregrines. Several pastors, a former nun indicted, by the US government in the 1980s, organizers and teachers, and a muslim brother to ground us. We there to learn about the root causes of migration. Seeking penitence for our gringo ways.

I was a pastor then, lovesick with my church and a man. Neither belonged to me. Both relationships broken and abusive. Trompas was running for office and calling my people rapists. The first debate Republication debate on the television in my living room while my lover said goodbye with his body before he dropped me off at the bus stop that would take me to a train that would take me to a plane to Honduras.

We traveled along the migrant trail starting in San Pedro Sula and on to Guatemala and then Chiapas. There, at the navel of Abya Yala

I understood more deeply the choking dry esophagus of the Sonoran Desert. Each day filled with new people and their stories. New fault lines ruptured into our hearts.

A nun sat in that church cut into that jungle and hardly spoke a word during our visit. The padre spoke bravely as did other members of his community. El padre explained about the death threats, how even this exchange was dangerous. Death threats often come in the guise of a cross and a flame and a holy name. The church will often cloak the very devil in its midst.

Just before we boarded our bus after we gathered to take our group photo, the nun pulled me aside and answered a question I had asked earlier; ¿Dónde encuentran su chispa de esperanza?

I unable to wrap my head around their strength and resiliency when everything in me just wanted to run and hide. Where was hope gathered? How did they fan the flames, especially when the death threats came like bullets in the night? This was months before Berta Cáceres was assassinated in her home in La Esperanza for protecting the sacred Gualcarque River the day before her birthday. Inevitably it always comes back to the land.

Right after we took our group photo, she pulled me aside and shared what gave her hope and confounds the fear. She spoke in whispers, rushed and urgent.

She described her home A quick glimpse of paradise. The top of a mountain, morning dew on the jungle thicket fresh running water. La belleza de la naturaleza. Cristo vivo en mi corazón. Water that never runs dry.

We can hide.

Me and my two sisters.

We can close ourselves in our home and pray.

Close the shutters and lock the doors.

We can keep ourselves safe from the danger and the threats.

But once you know the truth you cannot hide.

You cannot keep it to yourself.

We must share. Nos urge

La hermana and her sisters visit many communities under threat of displacement.

More than their ministry it is their life’s calling. The threat of violent extraction of natural resources greedy transnational corporations with eyes on the land and water ¿Qué nuevas?

As Solomon said, There is nothing new under the sun.

The nun and her sisters put their safety on the back shelf. Work to ensure there was enough at each table.

Stand in solidarity, shame our lombligo-christianity, our me-first-gringa-mentality.

I’ve carried her with me these last several years. Not a day goes by I don’t see her face or hear her voice.

The way she shared in whispers, the urgency in her eyes, the way she pulled me aside, her fingers on my arm.

I see the ways I have hid away. The way I allowed myself to be silenced so I could stay safe.

No desire to feel the blade of a machete against the flesh of my neck. Have sunk into the mire of heart break and then routine. Licked the wounds and reinfect. Have worn a mask long before this damn pandemic. I have closed the door and shuttered the windows and like an armadillo curled myself into a ball refusing to come out.

But the Spirit. Oh, the Spirit.

Spirit always finds a way to unroll and untie the ropes that bind. Pulls the blindfolds from our eyes Tells us, get up and run and tell. This is the healing Nos urge.

Embers Sept Embers

| Sound Poem | BY Derek Denckla

it’s back to school it’s Labor Day it’s vacation’s wake it’s money’s birthday each moment burns the last fumes of fuel and worries my future as I wind down affairs

/ REFRAIN / it’s about time it’s about time passing it’s about time it’s about time running put your dreams to bed and rise an hour earlier gotta catch that worm gotta get back to work

it’s the Blood Moon rising it’s the pause before the rush it’s the end of the tomatoes it’s the tax season tolling

/ REFRAIN / each long day gets shorter until the hours end up equal it’s the sprint until Christmas it’s the get-down to business

it’s the sober up it’s the Fall, it’s the Fall it’s the timer we set it’s the clock we watch

/ REFRAIN / it’s the start we never stop until all our pronouns drop until the matter of me becomes the atom of you

its the final straw it’s the leaf’s golden ghost it’s the scarecrow’s vigil it’s when daylight will be saved

/ REFRAIN / CODA /

Mantras

| Poem | BY Tyler Lenn Bradley

My Depression’s Mantra

The boogie man is me the one hiding under your bed the one stalking you at night waiting patiently for the right moment to strike.

I am the MONSTER. I am the fright.

I am the haunted and the haunter the phantom lurking behind a mask the ghost that can’t be busted the monster that can’t be mashed.

The blood s u c k i n g vampire lusting to drain out your life the soul that becomes a werewolf when the moon is full and bright.

I make the thriller

I am Friday the 13th.

I design the ghoulish grueling games to play with your mind

7 days I give you before your life is out of time.

I am the witch that cackles cursing all your dreams

I am your own precisely personal Michael Myers on Halloween.

I know every scare every trick, every treat to send your mind spiraling down into triggering nightmares of deceit. And though you try to run though you try to hide

I am the IT, lurking in the gutters waiting for you to pass by.

My Self-Love’s Mantra

The warrior is me the one that villains dread the one called the dark knight waiting patiently for the right moment to take flight.

I am the PROTECTOR. I make the light.

I am the defender and the damsel the sidekick veiled behind a mask the captain that can be trusted the hulk that can’t be smashed. The web s l i n g i n g black widow fiercely in love with

my precious life the soul that becomes a Sailor Scout when the moon is full and bright.

I make the marvels

I am Iron Woman.

I design the gallant glorious gems to infuse in my vision and mind every day I avenge myself by taking life one step at a time.

I am the sorcerer that soars toward all my dreams

I am my own precisely personal superhero on Halloween.

I know every spell every trick, every treat to send my mind spiraling down into affirming self-compassion so, kind so, sweet.

And though fear is hard to outrun though depression’s reach is wide

I am the Guardian of my Galaxy choosing to be brave and fly.

A Well of Effervescent Gratitude

| Poem | BY Jennifer Leiva

Windswept petals linger, frozen in frame

I arrange the flowers

She loves me

She loves me

She loves me

A dahlia, a peony, a rose

Ephemeral

Vibrating life until

Like a butterfly every glorious second magnified

Did it break your heart too when we drove through the Monarch’s migration

Taking in our wake short lived lives

Wiping away their fragile wings

Turned iridescent windshield cover like the fish scales pearl dust gold on Elvis’s car

In the end death always wins

We stopped to Rest in Peace

My love,

My Boyfriend Comes Home From Wars Every Day

| Poem + Sound | BY Sang Chi Liu

sound clip:

Astrologer: I am ready for this reading of your sign today. We are going to fill ourselves with positive energies. Tuesday, December 7th, 2021. You get very good ideas. Soon you will live a beautiful, sentimental adventure. Taking positive control of the things that happen in your life, and that of your family…

my boyfriend, J, just came back from war

J brought a bag of spinach, pasta, Mozzarella cheese, and tomatoes to my place after work I brought some crackers and mixed black tea with soy milk J brought a book I like J fried the noodles and boiled the vegetables we talked about Snow Country by Kawabata Yasunari at our dining table a polished thick wood round table

sound clip:

YouTuber: Greetings, genius scientists, scientists and citizens of the weird, wild, wonderful world in which we live! As always, I’m your humble science communicator, and I’d like to welcome you to December’s Star Gazing Guide. In the East, Orion continues its celestial battle with Taurus the Bull. Throughout early winter…

we went for a walk after dinner in the best stargazing month

J is an engineer he is everything I need we snuck into The Island we got around the facial recognition for this gated community by following the car in front of us it was a brilliant starry night we laughed so loud we don’t need the moon

sound clip:

Reporter: Hi guys, I’m reporting from Siziwang Banner in North China’s inner Mongolia autonomous region. The reentry capsule of China’s Chang’e-5 probe landed on the grassland in this region. The returner of Chang’e-5 carries around 2 kilograms of lunar samples the probe collected from the moon.

J was holding my hand when I saw the reflection of the stars shining in the artificial canals we walked closer to the water the stars were the beaks of ducks

DECEMBER

I took out my phone camera, lowered the exposure so the machine eyes only saw the beaks I made a picture of us in front of the galaxy of beaks we don’t need stars stars can be beaks of ducks

sound clip:

Reporter: Now that the astronauts have landed safely on the moon.

Festival Attendee 1: I think it’s very important, but I don’t think it’s any more relevant than, you know, the Harlem Cultural Festival here. I think it’s equal.

Reporter (to someone else): What are your thoughts?

Festival Attendee 2: As far as the scientists go, and everybody that’s involved with the moon landing, and astronauts, I think it’s beautiful, you know. But me, I couldn’t care less. The cash is wasted as far as I’m concerned with getting to the moon. It could have been used to feed poor black people in Harlem and all over the place.

my boyfriend J comes back from wars every day we live in Los Angeles have been planning to travel back to China to visit our families I have been applying for a US visa on my laptop J has been making aircrafts for the DOD on his desktop we work from home he can make aircrafts in his bedroom

Los Angeles doesn’t rain every day is a starry day private jets, public airplanes, drones, rockets, military jets, satellites launching Los Angeles hold all of these in its sky we don’t need stars stars can be the fire, the light of these man-made machines in the sky

J gives me hugs after wars/work every day

J doesn’t wear uniform to work

J doesn’t know how to hold a gun

J doesn’t have a superior who orders him to salute he doesn’t know where his aircrafts have been to yesterday, or where they will go today, or next week

sound clip:

Football Announcer: Now he’s up to the twenty-five, and he’s hit, and hit hard at the twenty-seven yard line…

Newscaster 1: We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this important bulletin from the United Press. Flash! Washington: The White House announces Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.

Political Analyst: This game between the United States and China that we’re just starting to see play has no logical end.

Newscaster 2: In late 2022, NASA will send an ice-mining experiment attached to a robotic lander, to the lunar South Pole. NASA has partnered with an agency named Intuitive Machines for

commercial moon delivery. Under the deal, NASA will pay Intuitive Machines 47 million dollars…

J doesn’t kill people even though sometimes I imagine one day I will learn one of the stars I saw was J’s aircraft going on a mission to throw a bomb on top of my Chinese parents

THE ARTISTS

JANUARY

Blanca Bercial is a curator and writer working in the field of Contemporary Art practices and Sound Studies. She received an MFA from San Francisco Art Institute. Originally from Madrid (Spain), she lives in San Francisco. Author, Trash Poems with La Granja Editorial.

@bl.__._._.a

FEBRUARY

Margot White is a singer-songwriter currently based between Los Angeles and London, where she studied music and performs with her trio. At the time she performed at Praxinoscope: Months of the Year, she was in the studio recording an upcoming single release.

@Margot__White

MAY

Emily Iris is originally from Albuquerque, New Mexico. She studied printmaking and poetry in college, now focused on birdwatching.

JUNE

Alexandria Hall is author of Field Music (Ecco, 2020), a winner of the National Poetry Series. She is a founding editor of Tele- [@teleartmag] and is currently pursuing a PhD in Literature and Creative Writing at USC. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in LARB Quarterly Journal, Narrative, BOAAT, The Bennington Review, Hobart, and The Yale Review, among others.

@alexandriakhall or her music, @beth__head

SEPTEMBER

DA Denckla is a writer, curator, podcaster and Professor of Creative Writing at Los Angeles Film School. Founder of Praxinoscope in 2022 and Inspiration Practice Podcast in 2021. Poems forthcoming in Iowa Review (2022); Mudfish (2023). Developer of artspaces including Center for Performance Research, Brooklyn (2010). Founder, Simple Machines Records.

@DerekDenckla

OCTOBER

Tyler Lenn Bradley is a poet and self-love advocate aspiring to bring radiance to her audience.

@tylerlennbradley

MARCH

Emji Saint Spero is 1/2 of curbAlert: a performance duo. Author, almost any shit will do; Co-editor, We Both Laughed in Pleasure: The Selected Diaries of Lou Sullivan, winner of the 2020 Lambda Literary Award for Transgender Nonfiction. AND Jeremy Kennedy is a multi-disciplinary conceptual visual and performing artist, sound-maker, writer, editor, and occasional curator.

@table_blue, @homopathetic

JULY

Alsea Diana is a filmmaker and multimedia artist from rural Oregon. She works in the field of media representation and has collaborated on films screened at TIFF, Tribeca, and Cannes.

@alsea.diana

NOVEMBER

Jennifer Leiva currently lives in LA. A student of  everything, sometimes nothing.

@jjjenniferjuniperrr

APRIL

Aaron Joseph is an artist, photographer, and writer based in Los Angeles. He is completing his MFA in Creative Writing from CalArts where he focuses on poetry and short fiction on topics surrounding technological intimacy, consumption, and sustainability.

AUGUST

Brenda Vaca is a Xicana poet from South Whittier, California — Tongva Territory. Riot of Roses is her debut collection of poetry.

@iambrendavaca

DECEMBER

Sang Chi Liu grew up in Taiwan. Her interdisciplinary work addresses conflicts within human relationships in a broader sense of social, political, and technological structures.

@liu.sangchi

Praxinoscope is a quarterly performance platform presenting an evening of works created by twelve different artists responding to a central theme.

Months of the Year includes PerformX Documents from the following artists:

Blanca Bercial

Margot White

Emji Saint Spero and Jeremy Kennedy

Aaron Joseph

Emily Iris

Alexandria Hall

Alsea Diana

Brenda Vaca

Derek Denckla

Tyler Lenn Bradley

Jennifer Leiva

Sang Chi Liu

Praxinoscope

PerformX Documents

Volume No. 1.

price ($12.00)

ISBN 9798986335520 51200 >

335520 798986 9