the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: inspiration (page 5 of 7)

when you love the hit

Well, another lover burned to the ground. This time, it was all over words.

IMG_3279When you are a born Writer, and like, have never done anything but process life in characters essentially since inception – you pay attention to what people say. Especially when you’re fucking them.

My boyfriend said three really shitty things in less than a seven day period.

And I snapped.

Blog tribe that’s been in my crew since this page started in 2009 know that I am a generally, relaxed and peaceful creature. Also, I will do anything for anyone. If you need something in my power to provide, have it. Just try not to rob me.

I feel like Brooklyn robbed me. It took me out of my life and put this gorgeous Italian man in front of me and literally took me for a ride.

I hate that.IMG_2923

When I was boohooing to my favorite sister yesterday over this, I made the additional claim that the best thing to me about any relationship is the Art it creates.

I’m not sure how true that is. I always say I’m in love with being in love, but I don’t reckon that is what recently occurred. I think I actually met someone I sincerely cared about, and once again was sent reeling.

When the last one and I first met, we talked about how neither of us could be hurt by the other, because we’ve both been fucked over so hard already – the encounter was already somewhat insignificant.

In any event, I spent five weeks in love with Anthony. And between you and I, it was honestly my favorite so far.

I’m grieving. I’m going to dye my hair silver today. Love to you, yours and ours blog tribe. Stay blessed. Even when the rest is impossible.

 

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.

keep them guessing. not a brand.

I’m not a brand. Shout out to anyone who is.

I, am not.

I never want to be categorized as anything based on what I’m doing in any given moment. There are two things I’d own up to – being spiritual and being a Writer. But I’m not trying to create a “spiritual writer” brand by any means.

Part of the reason I love writing edgy shit that makes people uncomfortable is because I’m so calm on the surface. I’m also a wide-eyed romantic, which is why I also write love poems. Sometimes, in French.

I’m a paradox. Certainly not a brand. I’m not trying to be replicated. I certainly don’t want anyone to follow me. But I keep a tight crew. And you can be down… just be down. Don’t follow anyone.

I had a complicated morning. Later on I’ll write some dirty fiction based on fragments of the experience.

We can taste spring here in Manhattan today, it’s going to be 20 degrees C, around 72F. I’m about to get ready to go read the Wall Street Journal and observe the concept of money moving on Earth. Then I’ll write about it.

I have a really interesting job for a beautiful company, it’s a blessing – really.

I hope you are all well. I promise my next book is really coming soon. It’s gritty and complicated, like me.

Also, have you heard you heard Uncle Luke yet?

“My lifestyle should be banned in the U.S.A.”

close call

Happy Saturday blog tribe. I’m happy to report, I didn’t actually dump my boyfriend. I feel like I was temporarily thrust into one of those icky dating things where people act like dickbags but then have to wash it out of their hair and deal with their feelings.

IMG_1667So yesterday I dealt with my feelings. I’ll probably see my boyfriend later on. Continue reading

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.

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