the world of gretchen cello

As a Writer, no where has opportunities like New York City… in my humble opinion. And no place else has New Yorkers…

Watching the sunrise in Queens a few days back, one of my favorite people and I were discussing New Yorkers. He made me laugh saying something like ‘We’re the only “-ers”, New Yorkers… You don’t have Los Angeles-ers or Chicago-ers.’ I chimed in with ‘Same in Australia, no Melbourne-ers… Sydney tries to have “Sydney-siders”, which is whack to begin with.’

My mother told me this morning that New Yorkers are a big part of why I love the city. ‘They’re like you,’ she said. ‘They’ll talk to anyone walking down the street, that’s why you like it there, because that’s how you are.’ Continue reading…

Dear Blog Family

Hardcore cult supporters and a handful of new recruits are already familiar with Bananafish Magazine. You know they publish fiction and memoir of Writers I immediately end up crushing on… you know they were the very first place where the Editor sent amazing feedback along with my initial rejection… and you are likely aware that they were the first place to publish me… after breaking my thirty-one year phobia of submitting words for anyone to consider.

When the opportunity to hook up with the good people of Bananafish in the form of Poetry Editor presented itself, I choked on my coffee before thanking it for not flying out of my nose and leaving an unsightly mess across the keyboard of my white MacBook.

Seriously. Continue reading…

Tomorrow I have an appointment at Columbia University to discus their MFA program. I already have an MA but in the world of getting paid to lecture I’ve learned an MFA is required. Apart from the bazillions of dollars universities suck dry out of us, I enjoy studying. I need to stay in school. It brings a unique structure to my work, and learning stuff is fun.

And imagine if I got into Columbia? Talk about some shit… Continue reading…

detoured track of a steady course

I’m in love with a woman that hates the word love and says there’s no such thing as a promise.

I first saw Marilyn on the Wildwood boardwalk. A cool night after a hot summer day. The scent of salt water and dry seaweed mixed with funnel cake and french fries. If you don’t know Jersey, I guess that sounds gross. When you grow up on the shore like I did, it’s intoxicating. Continue reading…

Some of you might recall the collaboration Real People previously posted that was written with Ricardo Perez. Our latest creation is a different style that combines our two voices. In the first piece we each wrote a clean half. The following work is a tangled mesh of both our phrasing and feelings.

… I’m quite pleased with it actually. Shout out Rick! Shout out to the Writers! Continue reading…

I do believe our cult agrees on the critical component of music in existence. I certainly have no singing voice and don’t play any other instrument, although I did try to attempt piano once and will certainly return to it when I gain the time and grace.

As a kid, I was fascinated with the power of sound, the way it literally alters moods. This is something that has stayed with me. I obsess over particular sound vibrations depending on my state, the day, moon phase… you catch my drift…

Eroding identity was written a few moments ago to this. I love a track that makes me let my hair down.

I love anything that makes me let my hair down… Continue reading…

G’day blog family

This week I have a poem featured with our friends at the ultra fabulous Short, Fast, and Deadly. I trust by now considering how much I have gushed about this most wonderful weekly collection and its unimaginably talented senior editor Joseph A. W. Quintela you have all already guzzled this week’s edition… if somehow you haven’t… off you go! Continue reading…

god on the train

Aaaah (pleasant sigh opposed to psychotic scream). Music. I turned it off for a long time. It somehow makes being late for work with no coat and wet hair in the middle of winter much more bearable.

There’s a man next to me on the train. He’s wearing headphones too. There’s an open book in his lap. He’s staring out the window as we travel backwards. I hear the static of screaming guitars blasting from his direction over the soft whisper of Deep Forest humming from my iPod. We all keep our ears plugged these days. Continue reading…

Namaste my beloved cult clan

First: I was published this week in the extremely dope lit mag Short, Fast, and Deadly. I learned about SFD after reading a piece by Senior Editor Joseph A.W. Quintela that was published with another one of my favorites, Bananafish Magazine. While you are clicking around gobbling word goodies, do make sure to catch up on the writing of Bananafish Editor Daniel McDermott as well. Feel free to run off for coffee first… I’ll wait here… Continue reading…

Instead of editing, I’ve pretty much been writing poetry for 48 hours straight. Something about reading old poetry makes me want to write new poetry, which is part of the reason I find myself in this regular predicament.

… enough about me. Meet Cloudmachine: Continue reading…