I came across this piece from 2003 today, written after I left the city for what would end up being a year, or nine…
I left New York City. It was the day after a spider-legged woman stepped out of a stretch limousine, nearly tripped over a homeless man, and entered into an exhibit in SOHO to decide what starving painter she would feed with her dead husband’s money. The owners of the studio seemed so pleased with the turn out.
My shoulders rolled. To a back crack
Today. For the first time. I thought
Of you. And him. And life. And me.
A solution of we. That you were never
Part of. Belief in one life. Was
Not good enough for your standard.
He arrived. Strong hands. Carved back. Honest
Like everything. You think you are
Above. I rose. And fell. I skinned
Knees. Elbows. Shins. Soul. While
You allowed and gloated within how
Tender my scrapes stay. And he kisses
Every broken piece.
This morning I wrote a letter to my pen pal in Australia. We bumped into each other one day and have been in love ever since. When you believe you’re from outer space, and you run into someone with similar understanding – you essentially recognize each other immediately.
It’s been 16 days since I busted my foot. I’m still bloody icing it. My best friend and I were laughing last night that I continue to use the “sandwich pack” blue gel cooler that an angel appeared and provided me with the morning I crawled down to the lobby of my building at 4am to ask, “Ummm… is there a hospital around?” Continue reading
All of my energy is focussed on finishing my novel so I can get an Agent, a bit of extra cash from book selling, and an apartment bought for the puppies to come live in.
How hard can it be?
I started working on a video blog today, I haven’t made one in for three months.
I really can’t think about anything other than the novel at the moment. It’s exciting, overwhelming, and eye-opening. Over the past two weeks, the final bits and pieces to tie things together and steer the ship have magically clicked in place.
I often think that magic is the only reliable resource. It always shows up when you need it, though it may take a bit of conjuring. Continue reading
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.