Category: ‘blahg’

play by play

September 27, 2020 Posted by the writer

Ok. Here I am.

It’s the new new blahg. No pressure no diamonds.

I spoke with someone I love so much today. Back in Manhattan. He’s the best poet I’ve touched.

I was explaining how I hate the Internet and how social media took away the last scrants of humanity. Not that I really identify with humans.

As a proud Lyrian, I don’t really know WTF is going on…

Anyways. He listened and loved me. Those two things are rare in my life. Everyone is so fucking self centred it makes me sick. In between my smiling and nodding, I’m usually throwing up in my mouth.

I blocked the last few numbers left in my phone earlier. I changed my number about a year back. I don’t cloud shit. If your number is written in one of my notebooks, I might have it.

I’m still pissed off that TikTok banned my account for hitting my pipe in a Biggie video.

Cunts.

I’ve mentioned it before around here, when I was a little girl studying my undergrad, I did radio. I definitely didn’t major in writing, no one can teach me who I am.

Fuck that.

I don’t trend or chase likes, but I love singing songs with strangers. Like this one from today:

@cellogretchen

#duet with @ngarrindjeri87 ?????? #sunday #funday #justwokeup

? original sound – Kenneth Johnson

Play by play.

J is home, by the way. Thank fucking God.

11 years. strong. don’t look.

September 24, 2020 Posted by the writer

Namaste blahg tribe.

The 11 year anniversary of FollowMeToNYC just went by. That’s 25% of my life.

… hollah at ur girl.

I’ve feebly tried to keep this alive for a minute. I consistently say I’ll come back daily, I try to act like I really care about having an inter-web present…

Truth be told. I don’t care. And I know it doesn’t matter.

I’ve come to correctly loathe the internet, particularly social media. I was lonely, broken and naive when I made this page. Some asshole I was married to left me, I was alone with no friends, I reached out for something…

I literally just laughed to myself.

Closing a decade of my life, I’m happy of this artwork. I like that people can come and peek a bit in on me.

However, I have no desire to maintain this anymore. Same as I don’t social media. I play with and delete profiles. I literally loathe being online. It’s never been me.

I’ll leave this page live and check in at some point. But I’m not going to keep saying “I’m coming back, I’m coming back!”

I’m not coming back. I belong to reality. You know, starry skies; human flesh; cello strings; real love.

Screen shit is bullshit. Fuck your likes, fuck your “friends”.

Hopefully we kiss cheeks in reality. Please raise a glass to my ELEVEN YEARS of repping.

I wish you could see my sky. I’m all grown up babies. I have a million more important things to do than be on some bullshit webpage.

… and so do you.

3 x 3 x 3

inside independence

September 18, 2020 Posted by the writer

So here’s the thing, completely having my days to mySelf with no requirement of meeting anyone else’s requests or expectations is essentially the best thing to go down in the past 42 years that I’ve been strolling around.

I spend a lot of time at the beach. I take the puppies on two massive walks every day that probably accomodate about 25% of my waking hours. As of late I’m learning and practicing art therapy. I just finished my yoga practice.

After twenty years in and out of the work game, I’m extremely gracious for the time I have right now. I understand how important it is to make every day count. Because while being a big shot Manhattan executive was pretty fun and certainly educational, I don’t really want to work for anyone else anymore.

That said, I’m not wasting any time on ‘what if…’ at the moment. I’m living in the present and appreciating every day. Being able to do whatever I want every day suits me, and my plan is to put my energy toward maintaining this lifestyle.

I know what you’re thinking, anyone with that opportunity would say the same thing. And I completely agree. The difference is seizing it. Part of why my first marriage fell apart was because my husband never believed I would get to where I am right now. No matter how many times I swore to him I’d figure it out somehow.

And here I am.

My focus now is to design a methodology where people can tap into their own psyche to achieve what I’ve achieved. I feel like my last twenty years out in the big bad world have been pretty incredible. I used to put everything down to intuition, to really knowing who you are and what you want.

But I’ve realised that’s a sort of selfish way to explain how to figure out to navigate your greatest destiny and make every day amazing. Sure we all have shit days, I don’t think we really have to though. Regardless of how many I boo hoo through myself.

I was speaking with one of my favourite New York City poets yesterday about how as Artists we embrace all of our emotions, perhaps we even over dramatise them. And we have no desire to stop doing that, because then we wouldn’t be who we are.

My plan is to help other people peel away layers using Art to realign themselves and redirect their focus to really achieve their dreams. Break yourSelf down.

I reckon I’m onto something…

Oh, and PS. My best friend is starting to feel better…

my best friend is sick

September 16, 2020 Posted by the writer

Jose is in the hospital with septic shock. David and I have been on the phone discussing a million different ways to say, “You got this…”

You got this…

Quite a few heads came around here yesterday to read my This is Paris review where I mentioned some traumatic shit I was hit with a few years back.

Yesterday I was discussing with my psychologist certain things about me that changed after all that went down. We’re all changing every day as fluid creatures, some things leave more of a scar.

Anyways, I was telling her about how since the cops jumped me, I’ve been much more in tune with trauma in general. Not just mine, but everyone’s, all over the world.

When you survive something a bit extraordinary to what’s average, you look at the world differently I suppose.

Jose has already survived major lung surgery. He was fighting strep throat with one lung when shit turned from there. He’s in the hospital right now on the westside of Manhattan fighting for his life.

No one can visit him because of corona fever. I can’t even send flowers.

After the NYPD tried to kill me, the courts criticised me for going on with my life. Like, since I refused to allow a couple of NYPD c*nts destroy my life, that meant everything was fine.

Let me tell you, I refuse to let anything break my spirit, ever. I was raised like that. It’s a massive factor of what makes me.

That said, Jose being unwell is giving me a bit of a broken heart beating. I’m going to send him more texts, tell him I love him and send whatever vibes I can to the other side of the world to get him better.

I believe your spirit and soul can heal no matter what. It’s part of what I’m trying to learn to guide others with using Art and, naturally, Writing.

But human bodies can be a real drag. I’m going to go trance out and send my homie light. He’s fighting now in a way none of us could imagine. TBH it dwarfs anything I’ve ever been through. Real talk.

Cross your fingers for us.

this is paris. a review.

September 14, 2020 Posted by the writer

While writing my last ‘words I don’t like‘ post which specifically targets the words ‘content’ and ‘influencer’, I was simultaneously playing Paris Hilton’s new documentary in the background.

Because as an Artist, there’s nothing I appreciate better than a proper contradiction.

I don’t really know anything about Paris Hilton. She falls into the media abyss where my ordinary reaction is to turn my head and plug my ears… as I’ve been discussing on this blahg since it fired up close to eleven years ago.

I think Paris is brave for addressing her trauma. That’s my major takeaway. It also completely triggered me, and I personally related to her struggle. Not because I went to a boarding school that physically, mentally and sexually abused girls… because I was physically, mentally and sexually abused by the NYPD during an incident of police brutality back in April 2014.

Paris has never mentioned her abuse until now, and neither have I. I wrote a short story about it in May 2014, but I was terrified of lawyers (who ended up fucking me over) and shunned by society because this was before everyone was running around calling the NYPD out for what they are; the way that’s happening today (shout out).

When Paris talked about being naked in the shower and the disgusting men at the school watching her, it reminded me of being half naked on the ground, with my hands cuffed behind my back, while four male officers kicked the shit out of me.

They did this after two other officers approached me, in front of my apartment, on a night where I locked my keys inside and was trying to get back in. This happened when I had nothing on but a tiny t-shirt having been on my way to bed. I’ll say it again, naked from the waist down.

Initially, two cops rocked up, asked no questions, and immediately attacked me. A man double my size held me down while a girl with hair a colour similar to Paris tazed me seven times.

Seven times.

The weapon they used on me was actually banned that year because it was killing too many people. It was a Taser X26, you can read about it here.

One thing overlooked in This is Paris is her privilege, and I’m not saying that to be a bitch. I believe she’s a genuine person, no doubt. Judging by my NYPD assault, I understand how hard it is to come out about being abused in a situation where you have no control, particularly as a woman.

However, I would have liked to have heard Paris say once in the documentary (just once) that she’s grateful for the opportunities bestowed to her because she comes from a tribe of billionaires. I think not mentioning that was a bit disingenuous, but I also believe it was a legitimate oversight coming from someone who, whilst having suffered immense trauma, was born into a lifetime of security regardless of how many perfumes you put out or shows you play.

I admire Paris being courageous and speaking up, and I admire all of the other girls who went to her school who are starting to speak up.

I’m starting to speak up too. But without a billionaire great grandfather, I’m not sure how many people will actually hear me.

If you read my review Paris, congratulations on what you created. I was happy to hear that what you shared was therapeutic after holding it in for so long. I cried like five times and would definitely recommend others to experience the story. Not to learn about your life, to get an honest picture of a survivor dealing with the aftermath of disgusting men, and women, abusing other human beings and taking away their rights. Real trauma.

Also, I too like dogs better than people. Full stop.

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    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.
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