Namaste blog tribe
Most of our loyal cult affiliates are aware that my birthday never goes for only one day. It usually ebbs and flows for a week-ish and I spend the month of September shouting out the whole being born concept. I’ve always just felt if there’s one thing to celebrate, it’s your birthday.
Meanwhile, I’ve developed this affinity for bottle popping. You see, if you’re a feisty female ready to go out whenever, New York City club promoters take notice. That said, I’ve recently surrounded myself with a handful of Manhattan’s finest hailing from Italy to Brooklyn and a few spots in between.
There’s something enthralling about your phone sporadically igniting seven days a week with messages like, “Le Souk tonight? 11pm walk in. Bottles all night.” Such messages are often accompanied by a secret password you tell the doorman to skip the line and walk right inside.
It’s a bit pimped, really.
Last night, I hopped in a cab around 11 and zoomed 10 blocks south to Liberty Theatre, wearing my shortest, tightest dress and highest black boots. Inside amongst free drinks and fine men, the DJ rocked my world playing some of my most recent track obsessions like THIS and THIS and THIS. And while my legs still burned a bit from Kung Fu as I popped and shimmied in very high heels… fuck did I enjoy myself.
You can imagine my complete glory when Remy Ma came on. Particularly when you consider the jovial islander I was playing with on the dancefloor.
The life I have built for myself, single-handedly, is surreal. I don’t remember what time I left the club, but I was definitely smiling when I did.
I cabbed it home and dreamt of the south.
Another birthday is upon us blog family! I’m hiding in the country with my folks – writing stories, laying low. Thinking about this southern gentleman that doesn’t seem to leave my thoughts.
I’ve had the most wonderful day. I’ve been lying in the grass, writing poems, interacting with tribal members worldwide.
I must say, out of all the countries and continents that I was blessed to receive birthday love from… nothing beats the call from one of my favorite Aussie family members/soulmates which concluded with, “HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY!”
My smile stretched and heart ached.
Today, I spent my birthday with my parents and learned a new story. When my parents told my father’s father, Papa, that they named me Gretchen – he was very excited.
“I always wanted to name one of my children Gretchen, my wife wouldn’t let me.”
Before I left Australia, on my way back to New York City, my Papa delivered messages through other mediums. I loved hearing from him again today. Regardless of being born during his life, he passed away before I ever physically reached him. Every trace of connection between the two of us is sacred.
I am so elated to be in the country. The stars pop brighter, the moon is bigger, the world gets quieter – thoughts become more clear.
I’m going to spend the next few days lying in the sun, spinning words. Year 36, here I come.
It occured to me this morning that last Monday, which was Labor Day here in the States, was my three year anniversary of being back.
In the past three years, aside from all the junky things that occurred in the midst of a nervous breakdown that my ex-husband packaged up for me on the way out the door; some of my most favorite things also happened.
I landed a perfect job as Writer Extraordinare; I managed to swing my own one bedroom in Hell’s Kitchen with two furry creatures; I’m halfway through “the” novel which will be the strongest I’ve done to date; and I have written some of the best poetry I’ve done, which will have it’s own “lost words” special edition coming after Novel is complete. Oh, and also, someone appeared in my life a few weeks ago, seemingly the most legit spirit I’ve seen.
It’s been a hell of a three years. (more…)
I’m going to a new kung fu school tonight. The only Sifu I have trained under was in Australia – and he will always remain my true teacher. I never understood the impact that my three years of training in shaolin kung fu had until it ceased. And by that time, I was so far off the deep end, I kind of wasn’t aware of anything.
It has taken time and grace for me to return to training. There is an addictive discipline attached to it, to me. So I didn’t really want to get involved unless I was ready to commit. Finally, after three years and a lot of bullshit, I reckon I’m ready.
I never pegged myself as someone that would be passionate about a “martial art”. And ironically, the only reason I agreed to study shaolin kung fu was a sad attempt to make my first husband notice me. Naturally, he didn’t. But ironically, I found a system my body seemed to be made to for. (more…)
After my thoughts about other Writer blah-gs earlier, I decided to visit a few to catch up on the past years-ish. Something interesting I saw, is that while no one is brave enough to comment on a blog post publicly, they’ll happily “like” it on Facebook.
I guess this is where my post-grad communications dorkness shows. It stuns me that rather than individually support an Artist in their own forum – out of ease and convenience = humans thumbs up to show their approval while raising Facebook’s stock.
Because everyone knows, Mark Zuckerburg needs a raise. (more…)