the world and writing of a nyc writer

i have a few pseudonyms and millions of stories. thank you for stopping by.

Month: October 2012 (page 1 of 3)

my first trick or treaters

The last three Halloweens have been hectic. For example, Exhibit A and Exhibit B of village shenanigans – and the ever so popular double whammy parties of 2009.

I consider Halloween to be extra special for many reasons. This year, I walked three miles to work (since Sandy ate the subway), three miles back… and then I had to take Henry to the vet again. Settling into another country hasn’t been a simple task for my poor little baby.

I know the feeling.

So I came home a bit glum that this Halloween wasn’t quite holding a candle to my last three… when something completely surreal dawned on me.

Trick or treaters. Continue reading


Alright blog family, it appears that Sandy has successfully morphed to Frankenstorm, and now somehow, for some reason… I don’t have to go to work tomorrow.

Long weekend!

It’s sort of windy outside at the moment, but I’m still sticking to my “probably not too big of a deal” theory. When discussing the predicted 6 to 12 inches of New York City earlier, I once again raised Brisbane. 6 to 12 inches just doesn’t have the same impact on my ears as 6 to 12 feet.

Alas I will be writing from home tomorrow because the city is deemed an unsafe land doomed for buckets of wet. So no office.

My mother called me earlier to ask if I bought water. I told her no, but I would top my pitcher up next time I take it out of the refrigerator. I’m pretty sure there’s a candle somewhere in the apartment too, just in case.

The wind on this full moon evening is whirling and lulling, just like the oceans its currently churning… making its way north from Florida. Apparently it’s going bring snow to the mountains in West Virginia.

I don’t usually pay this much attention to the weather what so ever, but when your job starts giving out days off… you sort of pay attention. I feel like I’m in 7th grade and I just found out there’s a snow day.

Stay safe everyone and watch out for Sandy. I’m going back to write at my kitchen table, next to an open door. Waiting for a hurricane brings wonders of words, I’m finding.


wait four. right.

wait four. right.

when you lose
everything. reduction
naturally claims large
parts of what life is
supposed to be.

you see. i ran
before anyone could
grip what i was
trying to escape.
and i was never. too fast.

please, world. view me as
broken. categorize. my defeat
like every average disposal
to shove in a dark space
with a lid. and forget.

swooning to a six foot
step above what i could
have been amongst perfection.
to know how loss consumes,
forget every imagine of once.

and only. i have understood
pleasure to arrive without
expectation of permanence.
yet letting… caused bleeding…
so i rewind. back. before.


sit sleep soho and spills

This evening I ran around Sit, Sleep, Soho in the west village. I bounced on futons and slung ourselves across cow hide lounges. In the end, a high back blue chair with spaceship back and matching foot rest won us over.

My Sunnyside abode is without many furnishings bar a few plants and two small puppies, I like it that way. While I am ever on a desk hunt, I think the chair nicely compliments the other two pieces of furniture in the apartment.

Sit, Sleep, Soho not only holds some of my favorite furniture pieces – it’s also occupied by one of my favorite people Josh whose birthday is today. HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOSH!

Ink continues to spill and I even wrote a bit of poetry today which I haven’t been doing so much whilst immersed in “Operation Novel”.

I’m happy to say that Henry is feeling better, I think he had a bit of a bumpy ride adjusting to the US after his voyage from down under. But he’s finally not wearing a lampshade on his head anymore and his ordinary Staffy dancing has seemed to resume.

It was a long day at work with lots of numbers being spelt into words… I think I’ll go faceplant.

Love to you and yours blog family. x



the appointment

My body is healed, my spirit is mended.

In the waiting room, at the appointment, there are five framed photographs hanging on the wall. Four are bright and colorful. Farms, a field, a tropical waterfall. Each spilling azure skies and multi-hued shocks of green into the white room.

None of these capture my interest, really. The fifth one does. Continue reading

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