Can’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.
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
Now that I’m finished sooking for five or ten minutes, there are many other more interesting and entertaining things that have occurred in between.
For example, I field-tripped to Brooklyn a few days ago. There was live music and an eventual dance party in my living room. The evening concluded with nachos on the sidewalk around 1am.
Oh and laughter. There was a lot of joy and laughter that day.
Also, I recently roamed the Bowery in the summer rain; sipped a pomegranate martini in a dimly lit Russian vodka lounge; gazed into paintings at MoMA until my eyes rolled out of my head and onto each canvas; and woke up the next day with a pair of boots on my carpet that do not belong to me.
Big picture speaking, I know I seriously have nothing to complain about. Continue reading
Namaste blog tribe
In the four and a half years that I have been chairing our interweb corner of cultville wordness – I never knew a happiness like what I’ve been hiding in for the past months.
I’m never going to make the mistake of mentioning my partner too much, besides in the inky books I’ve been filling with love poetry.
Some things are secret. Plus considering how I lost siblings over the last time I mentioned anyone I was involved with, I am not saying a word.
That aside, my shift from Hell’s Kitchen to the Upper Whack Side was nearly seamless. Apparently the walls in a brownstone aren’t quite to the same caliber as the luxury high-rises of my midtown past. Put shortly, playing Black Sabbath at 7am on a Sunday does not make friends in residences like this.
I’ve been fishing through poetry books and thinking about stories. Last night I put on bright purple MAC lipstick with six inch heels and went to an awards night at Cipriani on Wall Street.
The endless winter has broken all sorts of freezingness records, even though it’s technically spring. Today it was mild in the park and I walked past a patch of daffodils. My apartment is actually full of fresh spring flowers, along with Vivaldi, organic produce and a closet stuffed fat with new cotton dresses for spinning around town.
New York City. I love her so.
Regular readers from way back when have likely read a rant or five about the Retreat I will open one day. I have this whole healing, creative, musical, organic farm land in mind. I think after my first marriage fell apart, I put it on the back burner. Because worse than losing a husband who was shitty to me anyways, I lost a business parter. A potential investor. Continue reading
This is the last time I was happy, February 2012. After that, things all went pear-shaped again while I continued to fight the good fight and find a place for myself in this town.
I’m proud to report that three weeks have gone by now, nearly three, and I haven’t felt unsteady or crash-like. The way I put it to my best friend in Colorado over the weekend was that “I feel suspiciously happy.” Then we talked about how someone possibly put a curse on me for a minute… but that’s another story.
I write a lot about how human interactions can slap around a life to the degree where it’s not quite the experience we’d prefer. I also weave in some pleasantries from time to time. Continue reading