Posts Tagged: ‘australia’

when your mouth is

January 15, 2020 Posted by the writer

Super shut.

Observations inside silence are always the loudest to me.

One of my favourite people who hails from the South Island of New Zealand spent a few days in my beach hut recently.

We guzzled gin drinks and played hair colour games with another favourite who dwells down Byron way.

We dipped carrot sticks in garlic dips and swapped secrets and silliness. The colours of my life are violet and gold. They remain that way.

Seven years back two of my best friends killed themselves within nine months of each other. That reality floated past these pages somewhere, right around the time when I shut down.

Considering I keep five friends in my pocket, losing close to 50% of them was something I never tried to accept.

Not until these past few weeks.

When y’all wonder where I went. Inside a broken heart is probably the best excuse I can float you.

I never took a minute to think about it. I’ve been crying a bit recently. I’m finally facing what the fuck my problem is.

Per the recommendation of one of my favourite kiwis, I’m finally starting to dance it off. That’s what the boys would want.

Blast this. You’re welcome.

IF UR LISTENING

January 10, 2020 Posted by the writer

WOAH – OH – OH – OH …

… sing it back woah woah woah

I WAS FEELIN FREE…. WOAH OH OH OH

so

tell. me

what

do i need?

(stumble til you drop)

solitude

January 7, 2020 Posted by the writer

I always say I’m all one way, or all the other.

I did eight years in midtown Manhattan because I wanted to be in it. I needed to be around humans, I wanted the energy of the 24-hour buzz. I was heart broken and lost.

I’ve been back in Australia just over 18 months. It’s not easy doing everything alone. While I can look back on my first marriage and clearly identify why it was utterly fucked, I got really used to being with someone.

I don’t think I’ll ever completely adjust to being by myself. But I always go where my heart speaks to. Australia is my heart. It has been since I first arrived in 2002.

Every morning when the light wakes me up, I go straight to the beach. It’s a 10-minute scoot down the street.

I’m in between jobs, once again. The career I built in Manhattan was unexpected and I feel like the word phenomenal is an understatement.

For the past two months I’ve been simmering. After a decade of grinding whether it was spinning a blahg empire or making in excess of 200K a year at one point (writing, always and only writing…) I reached a point where I knew I had to stop.

As an artist, the emotional tax of relationships is real shit. I keep about five people close, in my pocket close. When two of my pocket tribe took their own lives eight years ago… I never reformed as the person I was.

I believe when it’s said we live like five or six lives in a lifetime. I’m probably embarking on number four at this stage. I’ve got a few freelance gigs that will hopefully give me dollars to get by.

Lily is about to be 13 years old. That’s a lot of dog years. All I want to do at the moment is be with her and Fronkles. I definitely like dogs better than people as a general rule.

I’m putting myself back together after personal things not meant to be slung on the web. However I must say, I’m elated to see how many of you popped up when I came back to this corner again.

I’m making it a priority to check in every day again. Slowly things will unravel and a natural catch up will ensue.

I started this page because I was having a really difficult time in my personal life. I’m back for the same reason. I consider this site a fluid art project and love you all for checking in.

salt water. poetry processing.

January 19, 2019 Posted by the writer

My unplugged-ness lusciously carries on. I’ve been considering my options to get a typewriter. While I always prefer writing by hand, I’ve been having daydreams about old school clacks and inky ribbons.

My husband is in Spain. While I’m waiting for him to return, I’ve been in the water. Mainly salt water. I’ve also been in the pool a few hours a day. My favorite times are at night, floating on a raft beneath a waxing moon.

My thoughts are poetry, that’s how I assess my health. When I’m at my best, I literally think in poems. Avoiding the internet and glowing screens naturally nourishes this process.

I’d like to produce a new poetry book. After purging three publications in three years, I’ve kept my work between leather bound covers spilt in blue gel ink.

I’ll probably get around to this once we’re on the island…

Saying I feel relaxed or centered are both ultimate understatements. I am beyond words. I am finally back to floating.

After realizing my first husband was evil, I had the most amazing period of proving how I never needed him in the first place. As a hopeless romantic, I adore needing my current husband now and completely forever.

… the real one.

As he so eloquently stated to me earlier today:

No puedo estar sin ti…

… and I curled my toes and thought in poetry.

lucid. unplugged. disconnect.

January 12, 2019 Posted by the writer

“Yo puedo hacerte feliz…”

I met my husband 29 June 2017. Halfway through our first date, breakfast at a French cafe’ on east 44th street in midtown Manhattan, he leaned across the table while I blushed crossing and uncrossing my legs (both of us dressed to the New York City nines, suits and frocks at 7am) and he stated, quite plainly in a husky, cigar-smoking Spanish accent that I drank like a green smoothie…

“I can make you happy.”

“… yo puedo hacerte feliz.”

(more…)
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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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