Dear blog family
Today’s post is dedicated to all of the feeders. I feel particularly close to our tribal members that click the feed button and dip in each time I pop around these days. Lovers who read regularly are truly part of my life. You’re there when I write something new, you’re there when I fall in love or move or get divorced (again). And while I no longer need to check in every day to talk about getting to New York City since I manifested it, I adore having all of you along for the ride.
And don’t get it twisted, there’s still a(nother) book coming.
I am on business in Bermuda at the moment. Regardless of traveling here four times a year, I’ve never explored the island. I’m brought here to Write. So that’s exactly what I spend the week doing during these excursions. I can’t lie though, I would take a 12-hour work day over winter any day of the week. The city is still bloody freezing, it’s nice to have an open window for a few mornings… before working like a crazy woman all day.
I plan to bring my lover here in April. It seems to me, that in addition to coming to New York City for all of the opportunities I’ve been blessed with – and to be in the center of one of this planet’s most perfect cultural melting pots - I came to meet him.
It makes no difference how many times my heart has been broken, how many therapy sessions men have caused me or how many dudes have married me with no intention of being a husband… I believe that love rules the world. I’ve never given up believing my twin flame exists.
French kisses to the feeders. You make me glow.
I’m moving. Again. It’s my fourth move in the past 24 months. Naturally, we’re staying in Manhattan, but I need to be closer to Central Park. So the new place is half a block from there. Also, with spring arriving at some stage, I decided the puppies needed an enormous deck – in the center guts of the city.
Ever since I met someone interesting a few weeks back, I’ve been feeling more and more like myself. Poetry continues to flow freely and life is swirling around in reasonable, natural ways in my microscopic pocket of the vast land that is Earth.
A new space is going to do me good. There are too many lovers and difficulties lurching around my present abode. Midtown was a blast. Technically I’m moving to the Upper West Side – not nearly as cool as Hell’s Kitchen. But the whole park / porch thing sold me. I can still walk to work. And my rent is exactly the same.
Secrets have become a divine agreement / reminder. I no longer desire to reveal anything – I just want to walk the path I paved for myself.
I forfeited on the concept of closely connecting with anyone after my first husband revealed to me that he is a frightened liar. I guess the notion of anyone appearing amongst that is literally unbelievable. Then a second one rolled up and my family as well as white trash strangers ruined any chance of it.
Finally, I’ve learned to say nothing and experience everything.
My life is entirely different blog tribe, I’m back to where I was before any husbands. I guess that’s how I somehow unconsciously summoned my twin flame. Nothing good happens until you give up.
Thank Goddess I listened to various invisible entities demanding I get back to New York City.
a galaxy’s greeting
it was another new york city bar.
turning my head toward a light injection,
i didn’t realize life came so far.
i didn’t know i needed protection.
ethereal ignition and i shook
and he sat and i turned and we both looked.
to think my glow could be something past. took.
i straightened my shoulders. slammed shut a book.
i curled my toes and rotated ankles
with life slipping smooth. sand in my fingers.
undermine soul, attempt being thankful.
when infinite takes shape in sudden form,
wish on stars counting ways to be reborn.
We’re moving blog tribe. Upper West Side. Bet.
When life changes rapidly, I’ve remembered the most wonderful way of recollecting. I’m not even sure if that maks sense. But you know us Artists. These flightly dream-thoughts, and such…
Never the less.
I helped manifest a living space with a legitimate bedroom and a patio that equivocates to the average square footage of the two midtown studios I have dwelled in over the past 36 months.
And I’m writing poetry
“spiegel im spiegel”
i stretched again when he touched my shaking
at midnight on valentine’s day. we kissed
in new york city and he said that my …
we … there was this: recognized. of flavor.
to realize you are only you in
what was never captured or seen or missed.
redefine yes and assassinate; “Bye.”
cracked bones. repairing. from once. devoured.
identifying my only making.
photos of prior blissfully dismissed.
replacing. dead. life. with each breathless sigh.
sky scraping spine. another world tower.
we sang youth dreams and sipped evening tea. you
identify me. and we define we.
There are a thousand posts drifting amongst the waves of FollowMeToNYC… that’s minus the one hundred and thirty some odd I stripped because, yeah.
I suppose with all of that bloody content, I must complete my book proposal!
There are a few reasons why I haven’t finished it yet. Mainly, there was no happy ending. And I needed one. See, I believe in happy endings – a lot. I guess that’s why the two disasters I married were so tedious to manage. There was never going to be a happy ending, I never sincerely believed it for a minute with either of them.
Never the less. My un-crankiness has reached new heights and I am expanding my consciousness. It’s about time I’d say.
I was bugging for a minute.
Winter in New York City is driving most people mad as every day essentially delivers another Polar Vortex. Fronkles is still itchy and Blue Pearl still thinks I’m giving them another $600 for doing absolutely not one damn thing.
I’m trying to focus on relaxing. A mate of mine recently commented on my habit to stop breathing. I never really noticed that I hold my breathe before. I’m trying to undo that and I think it will help with my book proposal.
In addition to the nonfiction book, I’m still mulling over poetry in preparation for a “lost files” edition. Another idea I’m contemplating is a combined collection of poetry, short stories and perhaps some photos.
Oh inspiration, how I missed you so.