Derek DiMartini's Posts - conectom2024-03-28T23:18:19ZDerek DiMartinihttp://conectom.leimay.org/profile/DerekDiMartinihttp://storage.ning.com/topology/rest/1.0/file/get/66459577?profile=RESIZE_48X48&width=48&height=48&crop=1%3A1http://conectom.leimay.org/profiles/blog/feed?user=1ei2r2yj1rxp4&xn_auth=noLEIMAYblog // Frantic Beauty/ Beat Your Heart Out by LEIMAY Ensemble Member Derek DiMartinitag:conectom.leimay.org,2016-10-26:5831649:BlogPost:726902016-10-26T04:30:00.000ZDerek DiMartinihttp://conectom.leimay.org/profile/DerekDiMartini
<p>Frantic Beauty</p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p>You feel it in the fingertips of the heart. Blind. Reaching out through the central nervous system. Carving into you like clay, working through you like putty. For a moment it rests behind the eyes, and you stop, paralyzed. Because before you know what it is, you see it in its entirety. And its too much. The world is too rigid and time is too steady and it will never fit, there's no place. Its hopeless and you haven't even begun. Oceans of peach pits…</p>
<p>Frantic Beauty</p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p>You feel it in the fingertips of the heart. Blind. Reaching out through the central nervous system. Carving into you like clay, working through you like putty. For a moment it rests behind the eyes, and you stop, paralyzed. Because before you know what it is, you see it in its entirety. And its too much. The world is too rigid and time is too steady and it will never fit, there's no place. Its hopeless and you haven't even begun. Oceans of peach pits fill your chest and the window panes in your retina start to frost over.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Then, against the internal pressure a crack forms at the top of the head. If you're lucky, a whisp pours out, like mist rolling off the mountain. And it is nothing like what you saw. In fact it's barely even visible. But if you're smart enough to throw away the image behind your eyes, you'll notice that it's breathing, if not yet alive.</p>
<p></p>
<p>Can you keep it? Can you give it form without strangling it? Or will it dissipate as soon as you reach for it?</p>
<p></p>
<p>Can you love it enough to try?</p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p>Beat Your Heart out</p>
<p></p>
<p></p>
<p>Stop me if I’ve gone too far. I’ll find the heart of what you mean to me. And I’ll spit it out. I’m so hungry I could grind my teeth against your bones. I’m only growing by the trail I leave behind. Down the line. Down the line. Sex is a beautiful thing to waste. Down the line. Not enough to pass them by. Have to make them feel. Have to make them need me. Maybe I never will. </p>
<p></p>
<p>Is that what makes you perfect? Begging me to pin you down. To not hold back. I’ll only take the things that matter most. Banging on my chest. Turn me into something else. Turn me into what you need. So I don’t have to choose. I can make it everything. I can make it more than us. I can give and give and drill into you beyond what you know. I’ll leave my mark. Then cut you off. Carcass of desire. Chewing on your arteries. Down the line. Not strong enough to last.</p>LEIMAYblog // On Writing by LEIMAY Ensemble Member Derek DiMartinitag:conectom.leimay.org,2016-01-18:5831649:BlogPost:679422016-01-18T09:00:00.000ZDerek DiMartinihttp://conectom.leimay.org/profile/DerekDiMartini
<p>(Disclaimer: while seemingly unrelated to leimay's rehearsal process, I felt this post belonged here, next to all the others)</p>
<p></p>
<p>There’s something so</p>
<p>tragically selfish</p>
<p>about writing—</p>
<p>To be kept away from the</p>
<p>distractions</p>
<p>of day to day,</p>
<p>Content with the isolation</p>
<p>needed to draw out what</p>
<p>lies beneath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>How arrogant</p>
<p>of one to think that</p>
<p>solitude could lead to</p>
<p>greatness! That the things…</p>
<p>(Disclaimer: while seemingly unrelated to leimay's rehearsal process, I felt this post belonged here, next to all the others)</p>
<p></p>
<p>There’s something so</p>
<p>tragically selfish</p>
<p>about writing—</p>
<p>To be kept away from the</p>
<p>distractions</p>
<p>of day to day,</p>
<p>Content with the isolation</p>
<p>needed to draw out what</p>
<p>lies beneath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>How arrogant</p>
<p>of one to think that</p>
<p>solitude could lead to</p>
<p>greatness! That the things which need to be shared</p>
<p>could come devoid of</p>
<p>another’s perspective.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I learned to</p>
<p>mistrust words—</p>
<p>or rather their importance— for</p>
<p>I had seen how</p>
<p>words,</p>
<p>so elegantly constructed,</p>
<p>brimming with such honest intention,</p>
<p>could shatter</p>
<p>when placed in the context of the</p>
<p>vast multitude of beings and experiences.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or worse—</p>
<p>They didn’t.</p>
<p>They managed to create</p>
<p>a façade</p>
<p>that inspired the creation of new</p>
<p>vocabulary to support its</p>
<p>delicate structure;</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Words of identification,</p>
<p>Parallel words,</p>
<p>Words that bind</p>
<p>the smaller masses to the whole,</p>
<p>Frenzied words,</p>
<p>Words of desire,</p>
<p>Words that tower high above</p>
<p>those that created them;</p>
<p>A city of language!</p>
<p>In which not a single breath can be found.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I prefer to express myself</p>
<p>in simpler ways.</p>
<p>My feet on the ground,</p>
<p>my body next to yours,</p>
<p>the moments that arise when</p>
<p>I’m present, and I</p>
<p>come into contact with another, and I</p>
<p>find myself giving something I</p>
<p>didn’t plan to put forth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Most often when there is something</p>
<p>we desperately want to say, the</p>
<p>importance of language disappears</p>
<p>as soon as it is uttered, leaving me</p>
<p>to wonder if it is simply the act of</p>
<p>addressing somebody directly that</p>
<p>contains the meaning we</p>
<p>seek to convey.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And yet—</p>
<p>there are moments when I</p>
<p>find myself</p>
<p>distracted</p>
<p>floating miles above the</p>
<p>things that ground me</p>
<p>and just below</p>
<p>is a world that is known and still unseen.</p>
<p>And I don’t know how</p>
<p>to share it with you.</p>LEIMAYBlog // Fit Me Into You by LEIMAY Ensemble Member Derek DiMartinitag:conectom.leimay.org,2015-05-07:5831649:BlogPost:614102015-05-07T00:00:00.000ZDerek DiMartinihttp://conectom.leimay.org/profile/DerekDiMartini
<p><em>This fits. This feels right. </em><br></br> <br></br> <span>Is it the shape of things that determine what fits, or do we shape things to make them fit? When shaping ones own body there are always limits. The mannequin in the window will always wear it better. Creativity is bound within the walls of your figure. My shapes are often made to not fit everyone. They fit me and only me and even then they sometimes escape my control. And yet I can be fitted to. But only if I let you. No, only if I fit…</span></p>
<p><em>This fits. This feels right. </em><br/> <br/> <span>Is it the shape of things that determine what fits, or do we shape things to make them fit? When shaping ones own body there are always limits. The mannequin in the window will always wear it better. Creativity is bound within the walls of your figure. My shapes are often made to not fit everyone. They fit me and only me and even then they sometimes escape my control. And yet I can be fitted to. But only if I let you. No, only if I fit back.</span><br/> <br/> <span><em>This doesn't fit. I don't know. I feel stuck. There's nothing left to do. We're not fitting.</em> </span><br/> <br/> <span>Is fitting in movement? Things can be static but they can still be in the act of fitting. A foot in a shoe. A book on a shelf. You can't deny that they fit. But not because of what they are but because they are together. Directed towards each other. A book doesn't fit on the floor it just lies there.</span><br/> <br/> <em>I'm not doing anything, I'm just lying here.</em><br/> <br/> <span>You can fit into me against my will, but you can't fit into me without there being a will. Otherwise you're wrestling with a puddle, and soon your clothes are soggy and your face is in the mud. Nobody likes a muddy face. Is fitting a joining of intentions? Or maybe just an intersection of them. Trying to fit into myself feels like a form of schizophrenia. Each part of my body has its own agency and they are working against each other in order to come together. It happens in an instant and then it moves on and it's the fact that it is moving on that makes that connection valid. Otherwise I'm just touching myself disjointedly while people watch.</span><br/> <br/> <em>I need more from you. You need to push into me more or else I don't know where you are.</em><br/> <br/> <span>To fit is to be located. To have coordinates from which you can navigate. The stronger the connection, the clearer the choices that can be made. If I fit into Robert this way, he has no choice but to fit into me as I move towards that way. This and that are understandings of each others dependency.</span><br/> <br/> <span>When having sex, the moment of entrance is a brief revelation for both involved. After all that energy and passion drawing you towards each other, pulling you against each other, you both cross a threshold and there is a sudden sense of stillness that hangs over the two of you. It's in that moment that you realize exactly where you are in relation to the other person and all other indicators of time and space become less significant.</span></p>
<p></p>
<p><em>It fits. I am connected to you in a way that extends beyond the both of us, and this is where I am.</em></p>LEIMAYblog // Reflections on Borders by LEIMAY Ensemble Member Derek DiMartinitag:conectom.leimay.org,2015-03-05:5831649:BlogPost:592462015-03-05T04:00:00.000ZDerek DiMartinihttp://conectom.leimay.org/profile/DerekDiMartini
<blockquote id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425393302299_97965"><div id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425393302299_97964"><div id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425393302299_97963"><div class="yiv9106293627" id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425393302299_97970">Borders are a symbol of consciousness.<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span>Of our attempts to understand.<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span>To draw a border is to define something, by clearly delineating it from what its not.…</div>
</div>
</div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425393302299_97965"><div id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425393302299_97964"><div id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425393302299_97963"><div id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425393302299_97970" class="yiv9106293627">Borders are a symbol of consciousness.<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span>Of our attempts to understand.<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span>To draw a border is to define something, by clearly delineating it from what its not.<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span>The first border we make comes at the moment of birth, when we divide our self from the outside world.<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span>It is this pivotal attempt to define ourselves which then gets replicated again and again.</div>
<div id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425393302299_97962" class="yiv9106293627"> </div>
<div id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425393302299_97966" class="yiv9106293627">What is this impulse to create borders?<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span>Where does it come from? In many ways we can see this impulse as the legacy of western civilization; the pursuit of physics and chemistry, the age of enlightenment, the industrialization and urbanization and colonizing of the western world.<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span>All of this stems from a need to define. Call it the pursuit of knowledge, call it the engine of progress, but it all breaks down to the need to divide things into its smallest component: every atom, every element, every street corner.<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span>To be able to define the borders of something is to understand it, but it is an external form of understanding.<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span>It is understanding in the form of conquest.<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span>Circumnavigating the globe, mapping every square foot of land, is a clear example of how drawing borders is a thirst for power and control.<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span></div>
<div id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425393302299_97967" class="yiv9106293627">To know is to conquer is to define; power can be seen as inextricably linked then to our ability to make borders. Wisdom is an extension of that power because it allows you to implement control of situations outside yourself.</div>
<div id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425393302299_97968" class="yiv9106293627"> </div>
<div class="yiv9106293627" id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425024496738_2732">Despite all this, borders often make things static. Borders are maintained not by the act of creating them but in the belief that they exist. Borders without strong beliefs are malleable; they stretch, they bend, they disappear.<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span>They resist definition.<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span>Maintaining a border means maintaining a certain belief, which in turn limits yourself to one perspective.<span class="yiv9106293627" id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425024496738_2762"> Our compulsion</span> to believe in borders might help us better understand our catalyst for creating them.<span class="yiv9106293627"> </span></div>
<div class="yiv9106293627" id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425024496738_2763"> </div>
<div dir="ltr"></div>
<div class="yiv9106293627" id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425024496738_2764">In that fateful moment when we divide our self from the outside worlds, the act of bordering <span class="yiv9106293627"> </span>both succeeds and fails. We attempt to separate ourselves from everything else in an attempt to distinguish ourselves, and yet it still fails to give us insight into who we are.<span id="yiv9106293627yui_3_16_0_1_1425393302299_97969" class="yiv9106293627"> To border is to turn the subjective into objective, to strip it of its own free will. How can we do this to ourselves? We are constantly moving changing beings. Perhaps our need to control stems not from our desire to conquer but from the profound sense not knowing oneself</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</blockquote>