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.
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.
et ses paroles sont devenues
mon pinceau. mon inspiration. mon amour.
je pensais en français…
pinot noir. creme brule.
baisers à Manhattan en –
rêvant de l’Australie.
et mon monde
que tout a commencé
quand j’ai regardé dans les yeux.
and his words became
my paintbrush. my inspiration. my love.
i was thinking in french…
pinot noir. creme brule.
kissing in manhattan –
dreaming of australia.
and my world
that all started
when i looked in his eyes.
The book is bouncing and soaring around. Over the past two months, I’ve really visited each character and their complexities. I’m starting to add subtle details and motivations. And pages fill, paragraphs get slashed – and I’m creating something I’m really proud of.
In other news – we had an ill snowstorm last weekend, the second largest in Manhattan history, so I was told. We dove in snowbanks… I carried designer shoes in my Mulberry bag, slipping into open-toe stilettos during Sunday brunch at The Waldorf.
The dreaded January detox went pear-shaped this year, so it’s become the terrible February cleanse. No caffeine, no alcohol… and a very small amount of laughing and smiles allowed. I’ve been mad busy at work and frankly a Friday vodka is exactly what I need to look forward to trying to process 30 reports a day.
Work will be slower next month… that means more novel finishing time. And more exercise time. The gym is my second best friend lately, after the puppies.
Needless to say, I’m mainly trying to stay occupied and not lose my mind in the ugh of winter’s freezingness. I’ve already booked three tropical holidays for the year… and counting.
I still make time for other important things – cooking from scratch, going dancing, long walks around the city… I’m betting on these things to be amongst my saving graces during the terrible February cleanse.
Mainly, I’m excited to finish book. Then it’s time to plan my path back to Australia.
Before I get into a summary of weekend events it needs to be said that no one parties like my gay family gets down… throw some drag queens in the mix and it just gets that much more hectic. Take my Saturday night as an example, I was lucky to attend my girl Essence’s birthday bash. Essence had two other performers in tow, like the one there on the right… Continue reading
FollowMeToNYC is a creative processing ground which expresses individual ideas that often change with the tides. Naturally, these ideas do not reflect those of any of my employers, or anyone else you might see me wandering down the street with one day.