Friday, June 29, 2007

reunited. and it feels so good.

after a brief stint on tour. my purse and i have been reunited. the united baggage ticket speaks of her harsh but fulfilling journey into unknown hands and lands. and her contents remain intact, miracle of miracles:

new sunglasses. new thich nhat han book (true love). new paulo coelho book (the witch of portobello). journal (not lil notes journal, full on journal i've taken into other countries with my life written in it!), unlimited subway card, atm card, checkbook, note with all bank information on it, drivers license, stg/kh favorite hat, apt keys, burnt orange ribbon, $24, lipgloss, mascara, compact, lotion, camera, cell phone (uhm i wuv my blackberry), camera (paparazzi is back!), dental floss, contacts case, amber oil, and a few misc papers.


thank you kenny, carah, jeremy, mikey and jim for making this possible ;)

and thank you whisk-wee. i will not be needing your services for some time now!

don't worry kids. this is just the beginning.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

purse abducted by alien

i swear this story is freakin hilarious
the alien is in possession of my purse
i'm scared
i just want it back
anyone with alien communication skills please reply with advice
i obviously only know how to ninja fight and we all know how that ended up the last time...

kiss kiss.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

private beauty.

hold yourself
lean in
the ground is on approach
deft and stalking
release stars and light
sliding gently into me
teasing my hair
lifting my brow
resting sweet kisses
on lonely lips.
if only
the world
would see.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

an explaination....of sorts...kerouac and bukowski

in honor of last nights adventures (and the surprising lack of concern about my nightlife activities from my closest friends) i thought i'd share some lifestyle appropriate quotes from some men near and dear to my heart. mr. kerouac and the esteemed mr. bukowski. let the game go on...

Charles Bukowski:

"Some people never go crazy, What truly horrible lives they must live"

"If you're losing your soul and you know it, then you've still got a soul left to lose"

"There will always be something to ruin our lives, it all depends on what or which finds us first. We are always ripe and ready to be taken."

"Well, people got attached. Once you cut the umbilical cord they attached to the other things. Sight, sound, sex, money, mirages, mothers, masturbation, murder, and Monday morning hangovers."

"Never get out of bed before noon"

and my favorite....

"Sometimes you just have to pee in the sink."

not that i've pissed in a sink but...well...i can sympathize.

Jack Kerouac:

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!"

"I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion."

"Whatís in store for me in the direction I donít take?"

"Accept loss forever."

"All of life is a foreign country."

passions. words. music. travel. cities. paris. galway. new york. san francisco. los angeles. love. angels. demons. death. transformation. the tower. the song. the heart. food. wine. whiskey. beer. kisses. hands. limbs. this is what keeps me alive. solitude. absolution. hope. loss. pain. forgiveness. trust. tears. divulging. speaking. screaming. tasting. exploring. wandering. asking. leaping. stepping. running. fleeing. moving at a steady pace. friends. lovers. both. dive bars. martini bars. east village bars. love. love. love. in it through it full of it touching tasting exploring ... expanding. xokg.


on tour.

my cell phone's on tour
my last 20 bucks is on tour
my drivers license is on tour
my debit card is on tour
my new paulo choelo book is on tour
my apt keys are on tour
my favorite hat is on tour
my freakin camera is on tour!!!
my monthly unlimited subway card is on tour
my lipgloss is on tour
my makeup is on tour
my journal is on tour
heck my chopstick is on tour

but i'm at work
how's that?

oh you want the story?
too bad.

Monday, June 25, 2007

the sun.

please face the sun
but do not melt me
turn inside out
let something form
and place yourself
in my hand
let me touch the mystery
let it unravel me
without resolution
i can deal
with another break
another happenstance
but it must be now
spaced between my fingers
touching my feet
wrapped up in my hair
i cannot be alone again
i cannot face the sun.


Friday, June 22, 2007

let's recap

okay let's have a little random check in with kim

housing. i'm moving in a week. next friday to be exact. where? i have no idea. maybe in with another friend. maybe into my own palce. maybe a sublet. oh how i love the housing adventure. story of my life. always amazing to me how perfectly it works out.

doc holiday's. this bar is a vortex. meridith is my girlfriend. i've got all my peeps to come out there on thursday's. brandon even. kisses. yummies. i love everyone. dawn is my hero and my strength right now. hey i even went and hid in the back room sitting on beer boxes next to the ice machine to talk on my phone. about what i don't recall. but i know it was my heart. and i know she was listening.

shinys. they'll be here on monday and i'm so freakin excited i'd jump up and down if i thought i could without falling over (yes it was one of those nights).

i figured out the best way to make up with someone you're fighting with is to get naked.

the end.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

[one step. two steps.]

by Laura Halloran Mallory

speak softly to me of freedom or of pain
or if you wish to, put your fingers in my mouth,
release my heart from my throat and find a crack.
drop yourself into me open me wide
so something can find itself inside,
so something can finally get out.

I know my way is through this death
rebirth, decompression and idleness;
in cycles I suffer my unforgiving intellect
[she says you cannot free then all, relax.]
remember where he sleeps. one step. two steps.

I cannot bare their sufferings of nothings
[the cross still stands lonely and covered with dust
against the stars of that forgotten night.]

it has grown too heavy, child, with dreams,
old age, and expectations.
even for you.
I am not him. I am not him.

so I walk away from them,
bleeding to recall a life lived once in joy,
before. before.
wrapped in the words of poets and paradoxes
I suck the airs of absence,
wondering at these words I spill like wine onto their feet,
wondering at their tears when I offer them a drink.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

the desert.

i have not the heart to tell you anymore. the words wonít sit long enough on my tongue to come through. the space in my heart where cells used to inhabit cannot be filled. but they are felt. by one woman. in san diego. she melts me. she steps slowly. one step. two. and I can no longer leap. i am bound to this. emotion. solitude. futility. anxiously beating. beauty. warmth. incessant questioning. incessant longing. forgiveness. and anxiousness. perfection. and direction. there are no more cliffs in sight. just an empty dessert. and plenty of room to dance.


Monday, June 18, 2007

henry and anais remind me how to lo[i]ve

I spent the afternoon with Henry Miller and Anais Nin. Iíve uncovered a secret I did not want to look at. But I will listen to it. Whispering. In these words. Of lovers. Friends. And mostly...justÖartistsÖ


An artist is always alone - if he is an artist. No, what the artist needs is loneliness.

I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive.


Do not seek the because - in love there is no because, no reason, no explanation, no solutions.

Life is truly known only to those who suffer, lose, endure adversity and stumble from defeat to defeat.

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.

If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don't write, because our culture has no use for it.

Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.

We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.


let it be

let there be sand on my skin. memory erased. equality measured. songs returning from skin. lust overlooked. forgiveness said but not received. you can't take anything else from me. there must be a question. but i only keep answering. repeating silences into empty head, plugged ears, glazed over eyes. and i know i lie. to myself. every day. that love would return. that love would be held. but i cannot speak. i cannot run. i cannot even move. i am too fucked up to remember anything. i am too far gone to believe in anything. and being alone is not an option. in that there is no truth. because you keep touching me. moving closer. closing in. and you forget to tell me. any little thing. and i forget your silence is really everything.


only in new york - the street proposition

only in nyc can you walk down the street at 9am and be propositioned. not your normal 'hey baby' or whistle that every man in nyc seems to do to every woman able to walk...but a real 'wow, is this stalking?' moment. i mean. if i glance at you when you start talking to me and see that you are a little minion of a man and in no way shape or form am i interested in you and keep on walking, what dna strand is activated that tells you to follow me and while walking behind me explain in grand detail what you think about me...describing my outfit and explaining to me every single thing you like about the way i look. and then after 4 blocks and i still have not acknowledged your presence or that you are speaking to me, what defective brain cell decides to tell me your name and phone number out loud twice with alternating declarations that you will give me everything i want and do anything i ask? and that you'll treat me real nice?? hmmm? is there a special nyc school for men that they don't tell us women about? cause it would really be great to know how to respond or what to say to let you know we're not interested. i'm not even sure if i'm flattered or not. i was almost too tired to even react. and i was ready to hit you should it be necessary. but then you left me at the corner of 34th and 7th. miraculously. after once last mention of your name, phone number and where you live. it was funny. for just a moment. but seriously? only in new york. (ok and maybe paris). xokg.

Friday, June 15, 2007

beauty is forever (i remember)

beauty is forever...but it doesn't make sense. the waiting. the knowing. the wanting. to sit in silence. to wake with understanding. to drink wine in acceptance. i remember the day i stood in hyde park wearing red patent leather heels. i remember not knowing how to look. i remember sitting on the steep hillside off macondray lane in san francisco. confused. embarrassed. decidedly suicidal. i remember the words that came and changed me. the voice that spoke such softness. such kindness. such warmth. the one that turned the tides. i remember aching. i remember sitting in uncontrollable emotion. writing songs i never thought i'd sing. that i sing now. i remember regret. and i remember how i let go and how i stand now. starting over. i remember how much i love nyc. and i remember how i got here. all the long forceful meandering steps it took for me to arrive. and go back and forth and come back again. i remember the ocean. i remember your skin. i remember his face. i remember blacking out. again. and again. and again. i remember the hurt. i remember the world dissolved when you touched my hand. i remember moving. i remember the fight. with myself. with my art. with the heart. with the unknown demons i still speak with. i remember forgetting. for moments at a time. exploring new limbs. i remember. they were not you. i remember the music that saved me. the wind on the hill where i sat smoking. where i sat typing. to an unknown face. where i sat crying to an unknown god in an unknown place in a space i wanted to escape. i remember. the way i moved. the way i grew. i remember you. i remember.



as if moving sideways
was a virtue
as if silence could cause thought
to disappear
as if love
could catch itself
or tear us apart again
as if distance
was enough
to make all instances
what this means.
he says leap.
he says leap.
he says leap.
and then
he steps aside.


Wednesday, June 13, 2007

warm sweet nuts.

this is a subject i have not yet introduced on this here blog. the nut man. essentially new york. often referred too in passing conversation when mentioning my perfume (long story) and now making my afternoon perfection....only in nyc can you get warm sweet yummy delicious nuts. for a buck. ohhhhhhh yes. i am a happy girl.

today i had a 'this is insanity' day. the streets in midtown manhattan are pretty funny. enter the labyrinth. waiting for the light to change. suddenly you are crossing a street, 100 people flowing into another 100 people, some wandering aimless, threatening to unobservantly bump into you, some charging ahead with the same fierceness in their eyes as you, both of us moving to the side in perfect union to avoid the other, some just rushing, oblivious, certain to crash into you if you don't leap aside. sometimes it's hard to remember that life is not that serious. that the extra minute you save walking as fast as humanly possible is not really that

okay time to get back to my nuts...



apparently the universe is trying to show me something...

Friday, June 08, 2007

eyes towards ya

eyes towards ya accordingly. or something like that. it was a new cheers i learned from noel last night. apparently when you sit at doc holiday's and drink, beer magically shows up in front of you even when you don't order it. and don't you DARE look away from the bar because when you look back there will be a shot there. and be warned of girls with camera's (ME) cause i'll take my picture with you and maybe even kiss you or bite your face. ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. thoth. ireland. and music. that's reason enough for me.


only in ny

so let's pretend this is a new column of sorts. oh wait it is. forgive me but today i am de-ler-i-ous.
only in ny?
it's true.
i saw a man with the nyc skyline SHAVED INTO HIS HEAD
it was pretty rad and he mighta tried to kick my ass had i taken his picture so i refrained from running after him down the street.
stay tuned for the next 'only in ny'
lovers you.


Thursday, June 07, 2007

i miss my beautiful friend

read an article in Black Book today bout remembering jeff. it's been a while since i've had more than a passing thought about him. john mentioned people are asking where the tribute went in sf...that makes me smile.i came to nyc people...sorry. despite the article missing the fact that jeff didn't write 'yard of blond girls' it brought up 'morning theft' and now it's stuck in my head. the writer says it's a song you shouldn't listen to if you've had a breakup within the last six months. but i wholly disagree. this song is the perfect moment for remembering and embracing memories long lingering or close at hand. jeff you and your full life are still missed.

Morning Theft
(Jeff Buckley)

Time takes care of the wound
So I can believe
You had so much to give
You thought I couldnít see

Gifts for boot heels to crush
Promises deceived
I had to send it away
To bring us back again

Your eyes and body brighten
Silent waters, deep
Your precious daughter in the
Other room, asleep

A kiss ďGoodnightĒ from every
Stranger that I meet
I had to send it away
To bring us back again

Morning theft
Unpretender left

True self is what
Brought you here, to me
A place where we can
Accept this love

Friendship battered down by
Useless history
Unexamined failure

But what am I still to you
Some thief who stole from you?
Or, some fool drama queen
Whose chances were few?

That brings us to who we need
A place where we can save
A heart that beats as
Both siphon and reservoir

Youíre a woman, Iím a calf
Youíre a window, Iím a knife
We come together
Making chance in the starlight

Meet me tomorrow night
Or any day you want
I have no right to wonder
Just how, or when

You know the meaning fits
Thereís no relief in this
I miss my beautiful friend

I have to send it away
To bring her back again.


Wednesday, June 06, 2007

pet squirrels?? (only in manhattan...!)

squirrels. squirrels. squirrels. 4 days in the new apartment. 4 days in the village. every afternoon i see a squirrel (and i like to pretend it's the same one, and i name him scooter), so every afternoon i see scooter climb up the fire escape of the building across the street then scuttle up this tiny little wire that takes him up to the roof. it is here he unabashedly runs amok and back and forth then back down the fire escape and then back up. i'm talking 5 stories, brick, old school east village apartment building. he is not messing around. it's amazing the fearlessness this little guy has. i'm in manhattan and there are squirrels! hoorah!

but there's more!

yesterday my apartment had a visitor. i'm calling her nancy. i think she is the lover/stalker/possible soul mate of scooter but that's still up for debate. nancy tried to come into the apartment when i got home. she literally had her foot in the door off the balcony until i yelped at her. so what does she do? hop across the balcony to the fire escape and then attempt entry through the window. ummmmm hewo! this is not a home for squirrels. i mean i know lower manhattan is not exactly your wild wilderness of a habitat but you're really taking domestication a bit too far.

pet squirrels?

i guess it's possible. anything goes here. but really. i don't need rabies. it's bad enough worrying bout the men i'm dating. mwahahha.


Monday, June 04, 2007

and then the rain comes

and then the rain many ways. stopping traffic. causing delay. warming the heart in its indifference. the streets of new york city bring constant surprise. constant stimulation and question. st. marks place is a new world at 8am on a monday. there is one 24 hr market open and women in skirts and heels wandering to the subway. street punks wandering without umbrella staring at you.

i haven't been able to sleep. i keep telling myself it's because i'm in a new apartment. a new strangely huge air matress. a small room with large windows and an early morning sun wake up. but i think it goes deeper than that. i think the emotions that have been spiraling in my chest are trying to surface, aching to speak. and no amount of jameson can contain them. no attempt to disguise them in sleep or eats will suffice.

adjustment has arrived the scales are brought out and balance is speaking softly. asking for interpretation. remaining calm. the sounds of myself are becoming easier to decipher. i know that the boundaries are drawn. i know that love does not need to be held to be felt. i know that release of such bondage comes unanticipated. that removing the chains and red ribbon that have enjoyed the company of my wrists for nearly a year was more than symbolic. i have let go. i have decided to step into destiny, to create what i will, and to embrace every change in this world and my spirit with wild and reckless abandon. to love is to live and with effortless lust. along this road i am able to rest.


Saturday, June 02, 2007

assassins vs. glaciers

I wish I could but I canít. I wish it was easy but itís not. send the assassins and letís be done with it.

And I, will stand aside. cold ice beneath me. I can run and slide and fall breathless beside you. but I will always return. to my home. and you yours. you belong. and I keep dragging myself along. asking for whyís. expecting explanations when the answers are in what has not been given. the answers are what has not been said. and I wonít see I wonít see. I canít hear. I wonít listen. you canít make me. so I falter.

I have the happiest most blessed synchronistic day EVER in like FOREVER and then I come home to sit in silence and feel into the heart which is the one place longing and lacking its moment of happiness. and I fear it Ďs what fuels me. I fear itís what keeps everything else in my life moving. because if I were able to give this love away it would take away everything that I love. and I still canít tell if itís worth it. but itís all that I can see.