today… snaplyfe

May 4, 2018 Posted by the writer

5B59D628-B754-4F8B-A74B-1DF3D13C976B

malaga. cross country. australia.

April 15, 2018 Posted by the writer

Next week I’m off to Spain, a week after that I’m driving across the country with one of my favorite boys and the puppies, from Los Angeles – it’s back to Australia.

Goodness me… goodness me…

Excitement isn’t quite the word to grip all of the happenings around me, fulfillment is better.

Not only have I been rocking the shit out of New York City for six and a half years, I’m finding my way home in the exact timeframe I said I would. I have written so many stories and been paid in such a diverse mix of Writer gigs; the idea of tucking myself back into a little house somewhere in Brisbane to relax with the love of my life under a couple of mango trees could not be more enticing.

It’s been interesting observing American culture. Sure I grew up around here, but everything changes – I guess that’s part of the beauty of life. I’m excited to experience the changes that have happened back home since I’ve been gone.

One change I’m kind of ambivalent and confused about is the enormous social media blow up. I remember when I first came across blah-gs all those years ago and figured I should have one as a Writer. Plus it was a good distraction to update this every day while I lived out the ass end of my first marriage and put every strand of my DNA into getting to Manhattan.

This online exposure has evolved into a youtube culture of how many followers does she have and how many hits did this get. I’m happy for the crowd getting money in this scope, but I don’t like being a forced receiver of having it shoved down my throat. And I can confidently say, in this country, it’s shoved down your throat.

Since I was a little girl I imagined piling up my writing books plump with inky secrets that I only share with who I love the most. I’ve stayed true to this, even with some of my words showing up here or there.

Australia is one of the most far-away, silent stories I’ve lived. I can’t wait to get back.

extending essense

March 18, 2018 Posted by the writer

extending essense

my last year
every/thing
stuck. to me
(like)
_____static
electric(city)
how (eye) use – you
(ally)
_____align
we never would
have
lined (up)
tell me
a –
gain. tell me
more.

mood AF. ode to bey.

March 18, 2018 Posted by the writer

Tonight, and this weekend in general, I’ve been like (af)…

My sincere apologies for officially becoming the whack blah-ger who isn’t here on the daily. It’s not that my thoughts and energy aren’t excited about rounding out the whole Australia to Manhattan back to Australia circle, girl – it just takes a lot of bloody work.

Fortunately, as a light working species on this planet…

I totally got this.

I spent the St Paddy’s holiday weekend feeding boys corned beef and plotting, scheming, etc. In midtown, of course. April is set to be my last full month in the states. As a never say never’er… I’m sitting mad tight for like six weeks.

“We can skip small talk, let’s get right to the chase.”

The puppies are like 87% clear of the great Aussie exodus. Two babies, one Spanish viking, a few notebooks and some cASH.

“Tell me something, where your boss at? The ladies up in here, they like to talk back.”

In closing – I love that Bey is touring with her man but the objectification of women on Earth continues to distract me sometimes, as much as I endeavor to avoid screens.

We all know Bey is completely hotter than her man, but somehow what he’s doing gets more attention. God bless the tour.

Anyways, also… Krishna Das:

stay blessed give blessings.

let them roll over me

March 11, 2018 Posted by the writer

echo

i still. have
these memories —
(and this world)
in it. i found
a voice (that)
i never he(ar)/d
him and eye
did
not tell any —
one. and that
is how we
survive. it’s how
we get by
when he tells
me to(o) – listen
t —
o (o) — it
loud. a language
the couple
of us. talk
about when
we swallow these
secrets. that
not one
can please (he/a/re).

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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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