the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: australia (page 3 of 51)

transport delivery

Transport Delivery

“Thanks for not having sex with me.”

There’s nothing quite like a 27 year old lover scorned. We started sleeping together when he was 24. I ended it recently for someone who is 52 and speaks French. Someone who appreciates shoes, smells like tangerines and tastes like vanilla.

Certain things are worth the sacrifice.

I’m on the corner of 44th Street and 3rd Avenue at 8 in the morning, when midtown is just as hopping as the meat packing district at 4am. Every creed and color pours up and down avenues, in and out of transport hubs. There’s so many of us, it’s like no one even notices each other.

“You’re welcome.”

We kiss on the cheek in the amicable style we’re each trying to adjust to. This is what it means to make friends with someone you used to fuck. I’m 37 years old, I haven’t done this to date. I’m still uncertain that I’m going to start now.

There’s something beautiful to me about standing in the center of Manhattan wearing sweatpants I slept in with messy bed hair. You never know where life will take you.

The cold February prick of winter stings my cheeks as I turn to walk home. I try to be a good host and always escort guests to their destination. That’s part of why I love living in my neighborhood, there’s 24-hour transportation that can literally get you anywhere in the world. That’s how I ended up living in Australia for ten years.

I originally left New York City for love and I came back because of heartbreak. Both times I was saved, for different reasons. There was at least one solid lesson that came of it all, anyways; your heart only breaks once.

éveil internationale

I’ve been writing in French lately…

éveil internationale

et ses paroles sont devenues
mon pinceau. mon inspiration.
mon amour.
soudain,
je pensais en français…
pinot noir. creme brule.
baisers à Manhattan en –
rêvant de l’Australie.
et mon monde
élargi. couleurs
que tout a commencé
quand j’ai regardé dans les yeux.

international awakening

and his words became
my paintbrush. my inspiration.
my love.
suddenly
i was thinking in french…
pinot noir. creme brule.
kissing in manhattan –
dreaming of australia.
and my world
expanded. colors
that all started
when i looked in his eyes.

23 to 319 to 1287

My unforeseen four-month dip from life has brought forth all sorts of never expected epiphanies.

For example, I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s gotten me to exactly here. I went from a decade in Australia to 36-months state-side to this, essentially – now.

Australia is roughly the same size as the continental U.S. And there are 23 million people there, just about. In the States, there’s 319 million humans – approximately.

Sharing my life amongst such extremities is one of the components that makes me, Me. My unique contribution to Us, if you will. Continue reading

truffle butter

So I was on about my favorite Nicki track off Pink Print a few weeks ago. They’re actually all my favorite…

Anyways, I’ve been feeling less emo recently. I’ve moved away from R&B, through a brief rock period and now I’m back to Prink Print.

I miss my crew in Australia. My fellow Writer wenches and Artistic posse of love spreaders. It makes me smile watching us all make moves with new creations and surreal experiences of inspiration.

I like seeing whole crew make it. That’s part of what I dig about Nicki and Young Money – in addition to the fact that each one of them has a sick flow and smart words.

And I’ve always been sucker for smart words…

“I ain’t gotta compete with a single soul. I’m good with the ballpoint game, finger roll.”

Tender Calculation of Regret’s Discovery. Submit.

IMG_7207I wrote a submission-query this morning blog tribe. I always tell myself I’ll do more of these, but I never do. I don’t reckon I’ve even hit ten total – in life.

The one I wrote today was actually to someone who already knocked me back once before, four years ago. I can’t really blame him. My book wasn’t ready. And my letter was like, “Ummm, I have a blah-g and I live in Australia and I’m going to go to New York City, and I’m writing about it.”

Needless to say, he didn’t really care.

Four years later, my letter is like, “Since my last pitch, I went from being a married wife in country Queensland to a single, Wall Street executive in midtown Manhattan. Professionally, I was writing earnings commentary for the CEO of a global finance institution. I recently exceeded three million reads on my blog…”IMG_7501

… I left out the part out about how I’ve been squatting in a 200-year-old farmhouse upstate for the past few weeks.

All of this made me smile. And it made me think back to the few pieces I’ve actually put forward that have been knocked back. The one below was originally posted in 2010. It had literally been years since I picked it up until this morning. I’m just as proud of it now, regardless of whatstheirname not being interested.

Don’t ever let anyone else’s opinion of what you create sway you. It’s one person’s judgement, utterly insignificant. In my experience, artistic work always connects with the most critical audience – its creator. Anything beyond that is icing, I reckon.

THE TENDER CALCULATION OF REGRET’S DISCOVERY

Brisbane is roughly 25,652 kilometres from New York City, give or take a few. When I left Manhattan, my shrink told me that I was approximately 14.7 years away from killing myself. This gave me a life expectancy of roughly 38.5.

Over the past two years the accent I arrived with has finally softened. I know to say ‘Bris-bin’ instead of ‘Bris-bane’ and can even get away with the occasional ‘mate’. I have a unique appreciation for blending in, keeping a low profile. Continue reading

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