the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: inspiration (page 3 of 7)

pumpkins. staying up.

img_7521My weekend has been spent staying awake, carving pumpkins and weaving around midtown.

I’m happy to have a friend around while I ride out the end of the most recent stint of terrible. I ate Thai food last night and laughed until I was lying on the ground in giggles. My friend put a pumpkin on his head to make me smile¬†and carved out the face that I drew on another one. Continue reading

out snapping

I’m snapping out of it blog tribe.img_6253

As a gypsy, minus my parents being 80 miles away – I don’t really have chunks of family somewhere. If I didn’t have a global cult of love-tribe who check in on me from time to time, it’s possible I might be classified a recluse.

Not that I’m misanthropic. Clearly not, or I wouldn’t fall in love every day, and I certainly wouldn’t live in midtown Manhattan. I love many humans, it’s just that since my divorce – I’m usually alone (minus the babies).

Anyways, last night I saw a favorite person who greeted me with, “How’s your boyfriend?”

Uuuuuuugh. Continue reading

mind moving

My mind has been on moving over the past week and change. The lease in my midtown tower expires come July, and I’m about to be out.

Usually, when it comes to leaving the states – I say, the further the better; which is partially how I ended up in Australia for ten years.

My heart exploded in Sperlonga, Italy and is beating on the beach’s white sand – waiting for me. Continue reading

limping along. sperlonga. lets.

I’ve been limping over the luthier the past few days, and longing for Sperlonga.¬†img_6026

The truth is, the love of my life and I didn’t fall out – life simply occurred. International issues with family do nothing for new found feelings. And so it ended, abruptly and instantly. Continue reading

day four. what you miss.

I miss coffee in the morning. I miss watching him roll cigarettes. I miss waking up next to him, which is crazy because I usually refuse to sleep next to anyone, generally speaking.

I miss how my heart drops the second I see him after being apart. I miss kissing him goodbye at the subway.

There’s something therapeutic to me about obsession. People fuck love up all the time. To me, having a lover to keep comes down to one major factor: obsession. Continue reading

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