the world and writing of a nyc writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: cult (page 9 of 50)

three years strong

IMG_3291It 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 IMG_3325seen.

It’s been a hell of a three years. Continue reading

not too. shhhhh.

IMG_3134After 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. Continue reading

a week? dates.

IMG_3137Can’t believe a week flew by blog family.  That’s what happens at the end of a New York City summer. We all go nuts because we know the sidewalks just won’t be the same in a few months. Everyone crowds to street cafes to guzzle their last rounds of  frozen drinks before autumn arrives and we swap our summer cocktails for pumpkin ales and replace our singlets with sweaters.

Sigh.

It goes so fast.

To see summer out properly and conclude the ritual of forgetting that kid I liked for a week or so, I’ve been going on dates. Again.

Being a swaggy, independent lady like myself here in the big smoke – it’s pretty easy getting dates. I actually had three in the same day last week. Dates aren’t the hard thing to land. Second dates, that’s another story.  Continue reading

words. a bit of whatever.

Namaste cult of blog

IMG_2816Words are pouring from my fingers like woah. I’m a bit in love with what I’m working on at the moment. It’s nearly half done, considering I started this particular project like two weeks ago, I’m pretty excited. Truth be told, I just want to have one completed Novel next to my poetry books.

Then the next poetry book will be in the cards… it’s been a minute.

In other news, I was chatting with one of my besties about the not-relationship I was recently caught up with. My mate and I decided to apply the two second rule to the situation. Only opposed to dropping something on the ground for two seconds then eating it, we decided that two ordinary instances of shagging don’t really count for anything. And that I shouldn’t have ever really cared or been attached to this particular person. That’s how the twoIMG_2822 second rule applies here. Continue reading

what is love. my homies.

Namaste blog tribe

IMG_1807My homies and I have been chatting love recently. Last night I had an intersting conversation about the concept of Love. I love everyone. Even human creatures that I up front can’t stand, deep down I love them. I have to. Even my ex-husband who I really can’t stand, I still have to love him universally. Otherwise I think I’d be a shitty human, that’s just how I live.

So during our love conversation I naturally bitched about “dating” or “seeing people” or however this strange ritual of eating with humans, going places, shagging, etc. somehow might equivocate to a possible “relationship”.

Recently I knocked around with someone for close to two months, we shagged a few times, had a couple of laughs. And when I queried if we were in a “relationship” I was advised, “No, I don’t think so.”

My homie last night was trying to explain to me that I move too quick. Having to learn “dating” at 35, when you’ve been married since you were 23, frankly, fucking sucks. According to my mate, “It’s New York City, you just, like, see a lot of people, and then see what happens.” Continue reading


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