Tahiti is everything I needed. Even though I had a nervous breakdown about it like 72 hours ago…
Meanwhile, I have fallen madly in love with an Italian luthier. I don’t even have anything to say about it. I mean, I have everything to say about it – but it’s a new shade of sacred to me.
Sacred, in my life, tends to involve secrets. So I probably won’t talk too much about him in these parts. But put short, he builds double basses and sends me Chopin songs. I’m not sure what I could possibly follow that up with… Continue reading
Namaste blah-g family
I’m sitting in the 2am moonlight, with very little clothing (ok,none), a glass of French rose and a lot on my mind; on the deck of my personal water hut – tucked away along the Tahitian coastline. Continue reading
Namaste blog tribe
So I’m leaving for Australia via Tahiti in about seven hours. I’m not packed. I woke up in tears. I don’t want to go, but I do want to go.
I have to go. Continue reading
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.
The 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…
While Jersey has gotten a few shout-outs in my webland pocket, I’ve never impulsively jumped a bus there. Not until yesterday…
That’s right blog tribe, I bussed it to Jersey yesterday. Why? Exactly.
Sometimes things just happen.
The bus adventure was entertaining. First I went to Penn Station instead of Port Authority. I think the whole “P” word / west side thing scrambled my brains a bit. Fortunately, I was still listening to Allen Stone with a backpack of notebooks and ink – so I wasn’t tooo bothered with the wander between stations. Continue reading