the world and writing of a nyc writer

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Author: the writer (page 1 of 222)

rekindle rapport

rekindle rapport

when we met
we extended. i taught
and we learned
while he swore. that. this
only happens once.
i chewed my nails
and i bit too short.
i curled into 4am
silence. and he was
the one p/eace/iece
be(cause) the way i
shake. he k(new)
that. when i stretched
into the sun it was
like i could never reach
far. enough. the style
i chose to stop; inside.
there is so much
loud noise every time
i hold my breath.
when i exhale
he always appears
again.

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because i suck at this

IMG_3530I don’t have a boyfriend again. After we spent four days making up, I had an anxiety attack this afternoon and told him we shouldn’t see each other.

This is upsetting for a spectrum of reasons. However, I feel myself retreating to the safety of where I cut the world off and fall into a meditative state of complete nothingness.

There are a lot of reasons I suck at being a girlfriend. However, I find my greatest issue in feigning relationships with the human species is the anthropomorphic perception of time.

I’m hard and fast. Life is short, experience is precious. If I start having experiences with someone, like I had with Anthony recently, for example, or even the Frenchman – I can’t comprehend why these experiences don’t occur as frequently as possible.

As much as I’m in love with being in love, I also feel like love is a fucking joke and probably not in the cards for me this walk around. I take “in or out” to a manic level that most Earth dwellers cannot comprehend.

It’s pushing four in the morning. I’m drinking vodka sodas, looking at the east river out my IMG_3544window and blasting Elastic Heart in my ears. I’m not sure why I do these things that pull my heart strings to a vague sense of torture.

Sometimes I think it’s because I’ll never heal from my marriage breakdown. I certainly won’t as long as I keep spending time with people who only give a shit about me on their clock.

I don’t want to change anything about mySelf. I’d like to stop trying to find someone to love though. It’s not even like I’m stomping streets trying to find it. It’s just that when I meet someone who is extremely special to me, I take it too seriously.

I’m going to try to stop doing that.

 

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when he claps back

We made up. That was the worst fight ev-ER.IMG_3323

I don’t fight with anyone. I leave. My boyfriend refers to me as a “flight risk”. That is a bit of my mantra.

There’s more than one reason that I have two passports.

I’ve been in Brooklyn since Friday. Later on today, when I’m done with work, I’m going to write filthy stories about Cony Island.

I’ll post one¬†tonight.

There’s something about Anthony and I that is utterly divine. We’re never allowed to fight again. We promised.

The clap of our argument was beyond. There were bad things said and I was fed-exing notebooks of words.

And then we spent four days making up. We made up all over the place. My apartment, his place, the back of a yellow cab, Cony Island beach, the boardwalk, various Brooklyn sidewalks…

For me to have gotten as upset as I did, I can only assume he’s forever.

IMG_3346The secrets I have with him are my favorite. I care about him to the extent of intimidation. Chemistry is a drastic understatement.

When the two of us get together, my life starts. I occupy my time in between with Writing and skyscrapers and all of these things I came back to Manhattan for. But when he and I are within a physical proximity of one another, everything changes.

I have to wash my face and go to work. I’m currently in my panties, wearing his shirt, slightly hung over.

No matter. I’ve got this.

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when you love the hit

Well, another lover burned to the ground. This time, it was all over words.

IMG_3279When you are a born Writer, and like, have never done anything but process life in characters essentially since inception – you pay attention to what people say. Especially when you’re fucking them.

My boyfriend said three really shitty things in less than a seven day period.

And I snapped.

Blog tribe¬†that’s been in my crew since this page started in 2009 know that I am a generally, relaxed and peaceful creature. Also, I will do anything for anyone. If you need something in my power to provide, have it. Just try not to rob me.

I feel like Brooklyn robbed me. It took me out of my life and put this gorgeous Italian man in front of me and literally took me for a ride.

I hate that.IMG_2923

When I was boohooing to my favorite sister yesterday over this, I made the additional claim that the best thing to me about any relationship is the Art it creates.

I’m not sure how true that is. I always say I’m in love with being in love, but I don’t reckon that is what recently occurred. I think I actually met someone I sincerely cared about, and once again was sent reeling.

When the last one and I first met, we talked about how neither of us could be hurt by the other, because we’ve both been fucked over so hard already – the encounter was already somewhat insignificant.

In any event, I spent five weeks in love with Anthony. And between you and I, it was honestly my favorite so far.

I’m grieving. I’m going to dye my hair silver today. Love to you, yours and ours blog tribe. Stay blessed. Even when the rest is impossible.

 

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book. stories. tahiti.

Namaste blog tribe

A month from today, I leave for Tahiti. I’m going to Tahiti, alone, to hide out for a few days and squat in a water hut.

It’s quite a grown-up moment, actually. When I started this webpage I didn’t know how I was going to write professionally in Manhattan, now I’m jet-setting to Tahiti, alone, to play with the words I’ve been spooling for the past four years.

IMG_2405The number of stories and general written work I have is baffling. I’m excited to see the first full-length novel I bring out with it. Lately I’m been spreading pages around the floors of my east midtown tower in the sky, shuffling them around and then brining them together.

I must say, as much as a vice that is likely is, Anthony has had a large part in me taking interest in my work again. I’m constantly writing, I just don’t get stuck on creating any one particular piece – it’s just who I am.

My approach to “making it” was to be paid full time to do nothing but spill ink in a job that didn’t involve journalism. And naturally, I had to do this completely independently in one of the most expensive neighborhoods on earth because I’ve always supported the “go hard or go home” mentality.

I don’t believe it’s possible to be better than anyone. All you can do is weigh you up against you. I never felt I had anything to prove, but I’ve always wanted to prove things to myself.

Flying to a south Pacific paradise with a few outfits, a lot of books and a photograph of my favorite person it exactly what I need.

28 days. Tick tock tick…

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