the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Category: blog (page 8 of 203)

moons. touch. me.

While I didn’t mention Monday’s super moon… it mattered.

Now that my space is sacred and empty, it’s like I’ve constructed a 21 story high spiritual dojo. I still put the recent turn of my betterment (after that) is put down to her. Something touched me that night. Continue reading

emptiness. clips.

imageMy apartment is down to nearly empty. There are two pieces of furniture left, which are disposable, and closets that contain approximately two suitcases of contents.

Few things provide more comfort to a gypsy. I take pride in being able to collect everything I have, in under 15 minutes – and bounce. And while I have seven months until this will likely occur, I’m someone who likes to be prepared. Continue reading

i love to break phones

img_7640It has been a quiet week. I’ve been internal, I chanted a bit. I’ve been spending as much time as I can in the sun before winter sneaks up on me.

I also had the great pleasure of my phone breaking, completely. This means all contacts were lost, photos probably got erased. Of course I don’t back anything up on my phone. I’ll back my writing up, to a certain degree – but my phone?

That’s too much work. Continue reading

don giovanni. dirty stories.

Last night, alone, I dressed in burgundy velvet splashed with golden leaves and six inch platform stilettos – img_7903and I went to the Metropolitan Opera House for the first time.

And it was everything you could possibly imagine it to be… Continue reading

symbolism of slow

Namaste international love tribe

Last night I slammed my right pinkie in one of the windows lining the glass box that I live in. It hurt like a BITCH. Ironically, I was just having a conversation with a mate of mine about my somewhat sad tolerance for physical pain.

Two things let me know how bad I hurt myself last night, 1. the amount of blood and, 2. the fact that I literally threw up from the warning pangs being physiologically shot through my body. Ugh. Continue reading


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