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
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 window 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.
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.
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.
The 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.
FollowMeToNYC is a creative processing ground which expresses individual ideas that often change with the tides. Naturally, these ideas do not reflect those of any of my employers, or anyone else you might see me wandering down the street with one day.