duration subtraction

January 22, 2014 Posted by gretchen

duration subtraction

Thirteen days
post initial encounter
I started waking upIMG_0688
again
at 3am. Every morning,
a quiet hour of yoga
and Rachmaninov.
A few twirls. Chai.
Poetry. Here
and there.
F[o(u)r] hours
later I was
at board tables and
you were fixing
the world
and both of us
wondered how some
things cannot be seen
ever
any
sooner.

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skyward enlivening

January 19, 2014 Posted by gretchen

skyward enlivening

when
i opened
to diffused
light. subtle
observationIMG_0639
toward rest;
a combination
of unconscious
became. again
this rising.
hot skin texture
in scarlet
shades.
an afflatus
to inflict a
retrospection.
and i recalled.
drew. back.
turning indigo.
violet. gold.
an hourglass
within. like
sand between
my spreading
fingers. stretched
to capture a
galaxy’s grasp.

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ideas of and entrepreneurs

January 18, 2014 Posted by gretchen

Namaste blog tribe

IMG_0536I’ve been blessed to encounter a collection of Entrepreneurs as of late. I think it’s sexy that New York City is a legitimate hub of passion and ideas and people willing to dedicate their life to such a creative, sky-is-the-limit approach to existence.

I guess what I’m saying is that I have been more inspired than I have felt for a decent section of time. And we know how much I adore being inspired. (more…)

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to a lover. that was meant.

January 15, 2014 Posted by gretchen

to a lover (that was meant)

i embraced this
opportunity to disclose
something i have been
dreaming. (more…)

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pattern disruption

January 12, 2014 Posted by gretchen

pattern disruption

I met you in the winter on my third day of Vivaldi’s Summer. I tend to find ways in my mind to disrupt ordinary patterns; like the dreary push that a cold New York City day in January might bestow upon a soul. Summer helped that. Vivaldi usually solves most of my problems.

I was writing when we met. I told you I was on my second drink that day, when it was really my fifth. You sat next to me at the bar and asked what I was listening to. People aren’t abrupt like that anymore. They don’t just sit next to you in public places and ask what your headphones are playing. I actually found your query a quite personal question.

Your boldness made me blush.

“Vivaldi.”

“Do you play the violin?”

“No.”

You took sheet music out of your bag and told me about how you play piano. I didn’t tell you that I used to take lessons, or how Liebestraum has been more consistent in my life than any lover ever attempted.

Such frivolous detail hardly seemed significant.

So like I was saying, these violins had been waking me up during the night for days. Days on top of the weeks and years I dreamt of you.

We didn’t talk about this the day we met.

To the picture of a starry sky. An aurora borealis photo. Maybe a moon sculpture, of sorts.

And while strings moaned in pitches and places I don’t know how to reach, we read piano music and talked about Johann Nepomuk Hummel. Piano Sonata No. 4 in C major, movement 1.

You rolled cigarettes with a precision that made me feel foreignly safe. Because back then I wasn’t safe and you weren’t precise, but we convinced enough people otherwise to briefly build a life.

I walked on air around you and your thoughts became alive inside of my heart. We started around that place. We ended somewhere entirely different.

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wedding dresses
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    FollowMeToNYC expresses daily thoughts of Gretchen Cello that tend to change with the tides. Naturally these concepts do not reflect those of her employer... or anyone else you may see her walking down the sidewalk with one day.
 
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