the world and words of a writer

gretchen is a writer floating between australia and manhattan

Tag: happiness (page 6 of 30)

open a book. turn the page.

For the past 11 months, my notebooks have been in a suitcase locked away. Not the ones that are in my handbag filled with blue ink, of course. But my history.

I took such an emotional and psychological beating over a three year period, that I shut off one of the most important parts of me. Sure there’s a lot of my words floating around here on this site, but they aren’t inky.

Ink is and will always be what flows through my veins. My blood line. For awhile my life really dried up, for reasons too vast to phrase.

Considering I was married when I was 25 until close to 35, my adult life was really fueled byIMG_2831 a relationship. My ex-husband never understood how he impacted my word art. He never gave a shit, to be frank, which is just another reason I left him 10,000 miles behind me.

The collection of tepid lovers I’ve acquired over the past few sets of months may have inspired a poem or story, nothing earth shattering. Certainly nothing soul shaking.

Then, about three weeks ago, I met someone who completely changed my life. I don’t stop thinking about him. I tap my fingers and bop my toes thinking of where we’ll go next; what flowers I’ll bring him; the sound of his voice or spark of his touch.

And finally, this morning, I opened my suitcase of notebooks. First, I cried. Not a lot, just a little. Then I called Anthony to tell him what he inspired of my morning.

I can’t even begin to get into what’s in these books. Aside from my literal life from about 2001 forward, the poetry and stories and ideas are some of my personal favorites. I simply flipped a few pages here and there. I know how my weekend will be spent.

Praises to all things divine for finally turning my page. It’s been years. I couldn’t be more grateful.

for real for real

Namaste blog tribe

Happy Friday all! I think I fell in love again this week. Since being out of a ten year marriage over five years now, I realize I fall in love a lot.

I had a conversation with Rijn about this during her visit, we agreed it’s the Poet in me. Poets are always falling in love, when else can you really write poetry?

I don’t think it’s hard to fall in love, it’s maintaining it that’s the trick. To do that, it has to be a perfectly balanced relationship. I’ve never had that. However, there’s a new love who fell from the sky three days ago who seems unique and wonderful and makes me feel peaceful and erratic at the same time. Continue reading

your girl

Namaste blog tribe

IMG_2519She won… of course she won…

It feels like yesterday that I was stomping the streets of Berlin with one of my favorite people in the world, the one and only – Ms. Rijn Collins. Whether we’re having French food cocktail nights in the western suburbs of Melbourne or clinking celebratory cocktails at the Waldorf Astoria on Park Avenue, as we did yesterday, there are no words to encompass my love for this woman. Continue reading

riding boats and breaking hearts

Namaste blog tribe

So I dumped the Frenchman. We parted with respect to irreconcilable differences. He’ll always be the lover who brought me gifts every time we were together and made me art when we were apart. I’ll think of him fondly.

Considering the amount of acquaintance-ships I’ve had that end hideously, that’s something special.  IMG_2300

In other news, I spent eight weeks recently floating on a boat. I sailed down the eastern seaboard, around a few islands, then back up to the city where I continue to freeze. Part of my love affair with Australia is based on the Queensland weather; but there are so many other parts. One part, who in fact, will be arriving on my doorstep in just a tad over 24hours.

My recent spat of heart breaking and boat riding taught me a few things. Considering that I feel all I can ask from of life is knowledge – this will appease me for awhile. I’m looking very forward to my next excursion to Tahiti, where I will isolate myself in an over water hut and write until my fingers fall off.

Bliss…

In the meantime, I’ll be sorting out my writer’s cave for when one of the people I love more than anything arrives shortly. And it’s for a veeery special event.

 

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.


Primark
Older posts Newer posts
Content Protected Using Blog Protector By: PcDrome.