the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: love (page 10 of 50)

when brooklyn eats you

Brooklyn ate me last weekend. Ever since I made up with my boyfriend, I’ve been spending way too much time there.IMG_3550

Don’t get me wrong, Cony Island all day. But I built my life in midtown. I move so much, that it’s important I make use of where I am while I’m there; which just so happens to be upstairs from a 24-hour wonderland.

I’m boycotting Brooklyn for a hot second. It’s just about summer here in New York City, which is the best time of year in one of the best places on Earth. I watched the sunrise this morning before IMG_3676dancing on the river’s edge. I wandered through my local farmer’s market and smiled at all of the vendors I see every Wednesday. I sat in front of the north facing glass wall of my apartment with the sun on my face and words spilling from my fingers. Continue reading

rekindle rapport

rekindle rapport

when we met
we extended. i taught
and we learned
while he swore. that. this
only happens once.
i chewed my nails
and i bit too short.
i curled into 4am
silence. and he was
the one p/eace/iece
be(cause) the way i
shake. he k(new)
that. when i stretched
into the sun it was
like i could never reach
far. enough. the style
i chose to stop; inside.
there is so much
loud noise every time
i hold my breath.
when i exhale
he always appears
again.

when he claps back

We made up. That was the worst fight ev-ER.IMG_3323

I don’t fight with anyone. I leave. My boyfriend refers to me as a “flight risk”. That is a bit of my mantra.

There’s more than one reason that I have two passports.

I’ve been in Brooklyn since Friday. Later on today, when I’m done with work, I’m going to write filthy stories about Cony Island.

I’ll post one tonight.

There’s something about Anthony and I that is utterly divine. We’re never allowed to fight again. We promised.

The clap of our argument was beyond. There were bad things said and I was fed-exing notebooks of words.

And then we spent four days making up. We made up all over the place. My apartment, his place, the back of a yellow cab, Cony Island beach, the boardwalk, various Brooklyn sidewalks…

For me to have gotten as upset as I did, I can only assume he’s forever.

IMG_3346The secrets I have with him are my favorite. I care about him to the extent of intimidation. Chemistry is a drastic understatement.

When the two of us get together, my life starts. I occupy my time in between with Writing and skyscrapers and all of these things I came back to Manhattan for. But when he and I are within a physical proximity of one another, everything changes.

I have to wash my face and go to work. I’m currently in my panties, wearing his shirt, slightly hung over.

No matter. I’ve got this.

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.

 

book. stories. tahiti.

Namaste blog tribe

A month from today, I leave for Tahiti. I’m going to Tahiti, alone, to hide out for a few days and squat in a water hut.

It’s quite a grown-up moment, actually. When I started this webpage I didn’t know how I was going to write professionally in Manhattan, now I’m jet-setting to Tahiti, alone, to play with the words I’ve been spooling for the past four years.

IMG_2405The number of stories and general written work I have is baffling. I’m excited to see the first full-length novel I bring out with it. Lately I’m been spreading pages around the floors of my east midtown tower in the sky, shuffling them around and then brining them together.

My approach to “making it” was to be paid full time to do nothing but spill ink in a job that didn’t involve journalism. And naturally, I had to do this completely independently in one of the most expensive neighborhoods on earth because I’ve always supported the “go hard or go home” mentality.

I don’t believe it’s possible to be better than anyone. All you can do is weigh you up against you. I never felt I had anything to prove, but I’ve always wanted to prove things to myself.

Flying to a south Pacific paradise with a few outfits, a lot of books and a photograph of my favorite person it exactly what I need.

28 days. Tick tock tick…

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