i felt helpless standing there in the doorway. having yet to decide to take him up on the awkward invite, i hear the building door slam shut. my body seems to acknowledge tonights events far before i decide upon them. as my mind is still wondering where this man is from. clearly there is nothing wrong with having an expresso at this hour, with the nameless man? how jaded have i become? holding out his hand to walk me into his corridor, as i flush realizing that i have stared at him deliberating my escape upon entry. i enter. he says cooly ‘is everything alright?’ well what should i say, i want a white russian not an expresso, i want some music not silence, i also would like to know your name. but no. i continue to stare into his eyes pathetically. i manage to blurt out ‘hi’ and he smiles. the smile turned into a grin of sorts. i usually possess the effect of making people uncomfortable and prudish, although now i am the one with sweaty palms and bad breathe. i throw my bag on the floor, holding onto my cigarettes. he lets go of my hand and the smile. engaged completely i am compelled to speak. utter something, anything. though he hasnt, and for that alone i want to say nothing. lighting my cigarette i celebrate the several orally fixed minutes i have won over conversation. the damp air mixed with my cigarette had suddenly burnt through my confidence. i must have been standing in his terracotta tiled corridor for almost ten minutes and only a ‘hi’ was exchanged, and somehow i feel like an unveiled virgin. my mouth tastes even worse, my mind skipping from logic to disney, as he grabs my hand again leading the way. moving onto his patio he sits down on one of three chairs. his chairs so large i wonder if i should occupy his space, or create my own. i sit opposed to him, as he exits, and i wonder. my silent charades of desire are only postponing pleasure. where did he go? i can hear his footsteps as he walks onto the patio barefoot returning with a bowl of strawberries and champagne. i am amused. the strawberries so deliciously ripe, that it erases any tart taste from my mouth completely. ’do you still want that expresso?’ he says leaning into my ear handing me a flute of champagne. looking down at the bubbles rise to the top, i wait for him to fill his glass. i want to catch his eyes staring at me, but i know like all my physiological expressions i will flush as red as a strawberry. his intensity rises my insides. i want to knock it back, but shouldnt i wait for him? just so, his hand lifts my chin to match his eyes as he raises his glass. our glasses’s touch clicking off, and im quenched entirely in one gulp. he continues to stare without having taken a sip. i grab for a strawberry and bite the tip slowly. he crowds my face with his intentions. i know if i kiss him first that i forfeit any trace of restriction. i know the same goes for him. or does he not even speak english much? does he even care much for conversation, or just sensation? either way, lighting another cigarette i sit back down in my chair as he corners me from above. tipping off my glass, he kneels down to hand it to me to get me tipped off. he looks straight into my eyes, and mistakingly i blow smoke right past his face. less then aggressively he uncrosses my legs with the palm of his hand, gliding his way up to my panties. suddenly, i went from warm to wet, slowly pulling his hand out i knew whatever this was he won, completely.
happy feet. touch down, you found $20 in your pocket. you surfed a 30 foot wave. you won a free McD’s meal. you won my heart, i found yours. lionel is playing ‘all night long’ at an intimate party. you avoided getting a parking ticket. you tasted the most delicious Mango. you made sand angels, or snow angels. you swam in the ocean or played in snow for the first time, or simply so. whatever you do, do it with pleasure. let it bring you joy, so you forfeit any residue of pain.
13’ in Review.
Reflecting is my forte. Hindsight is a bitch. My balcony is a witness to all my emotions, whilst my bathtub soothes them. It has been a terribly terrific year. I haven’t at all lost my touch as much as reality. But then again, I subscribe to the philosophy that, ‘If your dreams don’t scare you, they aren’t big enough.’
I must say, on my balcony is where I dream big. I sit back and imagine all the endless ways of falling in love again with a Brando typa guy. With music playing into the storyline, and either the crescent or full moon giving way to my moods, I fall in love with myself through the endless thoughts maybe in life. The themes of my dreams I have learned become more and more of what I haven’t yet overcome or achieved. And hunger becomes me, hopefully before the flame dies out.
All 360 days into this year, (and Yes its Christmas Day), and I recognize everyday is a blank canvas, but heavens why does the New Year signify NEW? Before I review this year, before I mark the up n’ downs, the bruises and bangs (yes I got bangs), I must first say it feels like a blur. As this time next year will too. It isn’t so much that my memory is failing me, or my interests, but the expectation of a significant change in my/ones life is. The ones I dream of, the ones that possess my soul.
I wrestle constantly with my everything. Internally and externally. Its a lateral contribution in life to shut-up and wrestle less, and be more pliable. It can even serve as a hot dish for the less desirable. Ironically, I find myself more desirable served cold. That may not even be who I am, but I won’t exude the warmth of your Grandmother’s Apple Pie to flip me the finger later on when its least expected. It’s not exactly a lateral move when your desires don’t match your needs.
More importantly, as much as I anticipate 2013 mirroring 2014, every year there are slights. I never announce any resolutions for the New Year. I find solutions as I go along. And yes I know I have a lot to do from actually quitting smoking, to learning how to run (looks hilarious, forget the gym), to managing money, men, thoughts, desires, the list is ridiculous. However, resolutions are a premeditated disappointment. Because the truth is, I can’t manage men (why should I), managing money is hard (when I barley make any), managing my mind (are you kidding, the labyrinth of crazy). So managing is hard, but just being is better.
And yes, I see what you are thinking now. This phony romantic slacker wants to watch French, Italian Films all day long and unwind from what exactly? But only really on Sunday mornings, or late night (no justification for foreign film needed really!) But there is more I think, to just being…
Far more. I have developed a sense of self over the past couple of years. I never felt it at first, yet I recognized it over a period of time. It is like developing a pallet for your mind. You are the gatekeeper, and remember to only let in what you want to develop. Somethings I have kept in my mind, never produced; almost like a roll of film. My mom always reminds me, that break-ups are like a funeral; you always glorify the good parts.
I have learned to do this with most of my life. I keep close tabs of the crap, but keep it far too close to my heart and not the waste-bin. I never dispose of the shit that broke my heart, dirtied my mind, or made me lose it. But whatever it was, I thank it too, for it helped me grow.
This year I have a lot to be grateful for-
Last year I dreamed a dream. This year I made it happen.
This year I had my dream job. This year I quit my dream job.
This year I learned patience. Next year maybe I won’t be so tolerant.
This year I sacrificed myself. Next year it won’t be me.
This year I turned 30. Next year I won’t cry about it.
This year David Bowie released an album. Next Year Bowie performs…?
This year was a gift. Next Year will be too.
Prince - Da Bourgeoisie | NEW VERSION WITH ADDED HORNS!
WE WERE FUCKING RETROGRADING!
Weird things happen. They tend to arrow my way, at this point it must be of some consequence of my careless wonder.
Come to a place where you cant remember, but you won’t forget the shapes of time. Well thats funny, cus I partially forgot everything including my flight over n’back. Retrograding is almost a bold move. Travel is a major red-flag (my sister got caught up in the LAX shooting whilst trying to surprise me.) Oh yah, I should mention that I was retrograding through my thirtieth birthday. Major (MAY-JOR) boo-hoo, boo-boo, bruised by security at the Bruise Sringsteen show escorted (but snuck back in.)
Still not weird enough. Okay fine. Thats cus I gave you kinda like a sneak preview; several highlights that you would never think to happen (in reality) but actually did.
Truth is we were all retrograding since the 18th, but Scorpios felt it the most cus it falls in our moon…(my moon, my ruler.) But, lets really fast forward to the 30th when my fellow skorpiana (lets call her #WonderWoman) and I decided avitazein El Lay, and flew to NYC, into Newark. (ps. Newark is a trap, the cabbys are 90+, ugh,)…. so Wonder and I were all checked, shot gunning it to terminal 3’s best place to be. The scenic terrace of Gladstones; where ordering Tequila shots and popcorn shrimp go hand and hand with watching planes zip off into thin air. Thats just up until ours did too, and we had trouble enough finding a place to put our carry on luggage anywhere. After all, we were those people- the last ones. The best part is that Wonder had the window seat and I had the isle, and naturally the Asian sitting between us would become our drinking partner…up until he quickly requested a seat change pre-take off. Couple more shots of tequila I decided that seat to seat chatting was the best idea, and it could of been had it not been an overnight flight (lights out.) But then Wonder got out Sindy’s present (a lip phone) and we pretended to talk as if on a hotline. Most people get annoyed by babies, even bratty kids. This flight was grateful when Wonder and I decided it was nappy time with some Ambien-Valiem cocktail.
You know when you wake up, and you just have no clue where you are. What happened, kinda like a haze but you just go with it. If your are still reading this then I suppose you know what I mean, generally. Wonder & I were hazed the f*ck out. I was in a cloud, and Wonder was a wonder. Last ones off the plane, shuffling towards the baggage claim, and I realize that I forgot my carry on. And I know this will sound weirder, but all I said was Wonder ‘Oh my Gosh, I forgot my carry on….’ and there he was a suited TSA man with it in his hand, and just as I responded yes, he shuffled off. WEIRD!
So yes, Wonder forgot Sindy’s Lips phone. Which was a major, and minor disaster. But essentially nothing Amazon couldn’t fix within 24hours. Even though a man named Nick got involved and it through off Sindy.
Halloween, YES! MAY-JOR hit. Its my holiday. I love dress up all the time, give me a special day, and of course it gives a bit of that pizz-azz to it. So I went with the ZigZag man. Okay you’re wondering who is that? If you don’t smoke pot then maybe you wouldn’t know, if you do then open your EYES! Curiously enough, I felt oh so sexy in a beard, dressed like a man. I felt even sexier kissing a man as a man. It was very Kim Bassinger of me, but all the while I was retrograding…Being my man was major tricking while getting the treating. Naturally, Wonder was Wonder Woman, and Sindy was Betty Boop. I took the ladies out on the town, showed them a good time, but strap in cus from here on the retrograde scale has a barometer that slopes like K2.
For detail safety we must skip or fast forward until 4ish of November 1st. I just squirt hot sauce all over my beige jacket whilst eating a falafel at Mamouns (no longer the McDougal Legends), and start on my annoyed walk while Sindys texting, and looking up at me asking me if I knew a particular email. (HMMM, DEVO.) I knew that Devo is really here in NYC to surprise me. And just as my thoughts begin to even adjust to this thought he is right behind. But I am not surprised, I casually hug him almost as if well I just figured it out… ‘and shit you idiot act surprised’ but Im full on retrograding. The truth is, Devo played his violin so beautifully that I believed his broke brigade discussions with me, even when he called me from Barneys (almost everyday.) And now he his here, naturally I should be surprised, but that email question literally two minutes earlier lost my moment.
So that was November 1st, November 2nd looks far more fuchsia, if you will. At 6am I woke up on Bobby’s couch in the W. Village. What! Where is Wonder, Devo,…anyways I just ran out and caught a cab up town to Sindy’s. One thing super important, I need a bed. And I slept in it til’ 2pm.
Sindy, Wonder & I toasted to the last traces of my 20’s and hour later. Sindy reassured me that I, if anyone did them. Moments in your life just like the one Im trying to write about, you will never forget. The taste, the emotion, nor the smell. Actually the smell of Barneys is easy. And I was toasting with Kir Royale, but maybe its the bitterness that my soul tries to sponge dry, and my heart belts back out with pain.
Besides champagne and couple of tears, I needed to begin to fix up look sharp. No missing the mark on tonight. I still wanna have the baby girl charm, but lets face it. Calling a thirty year old baby girl doesnt feel so Lolita anymore. Fishing for an outfit. Should I of not thought of this earlier? I get it together, I get it late, but I’m totally feeling myself, and thats the best feeling. Leather, Lace, & Jean.
Apparently my birthday dinner reservation was 8:15, and the Knowles Sisters (Wonder, Sindy, I) ushered our way in at 9. Oh yeh, forgot to letchya know all the while I am just going with the flow and have no clue ‘where to, and whats up’ Its all very bizarre. I walk downstairs, and who do I see but Slutty Pumpkin. And I should have thought then, but again I was just going with it. Slutty tells me that since Kampus is late (typical) that we lost our reservation and the next table is at 11 or so.
Woooop. Woooop. How many drinks can you have by the bar in two hours exactly? Dunno don’t ask a temporary alcoholic. I was out of service. By the time our table was ready, I was doing the shimmy with a random (also natural), or trying to rip off the Bartender. But the dancing didn’t stop, everyone at the table, seated, and I, continued to danced I suppose for them, as well as for the restaurant.
I promise Sindy tried to feed me. I was beyond food. I was on fire. I was the Agave. But then, 12:04am hit, and so did my tears. Sobbing. The year of the Pig, not so lucky.
I’m sure it was inevitable. But I just never stopped crying so, I took my party elsewhere…(I wanna say i think) cus, really all I remember was Wonder, Sindy & I were like lets shake it. So we did out of there.
Somehow, Kampus found us. And I was in a corner, crying…still. Drunk crying is like finding out you overdrafted for your last drink last call. I would be sober crying. I was telling Sindy how I all I wanted was Pandy Bear while Wonder was re-applying my face.
Pandy, literally like a super hero (and at that moment she was a prayer book), jumps out of nowhere like a Jack n’ the Box and hugs me. Pandy, was almost as fuchsia as I. But for completely different reasons. She started off by wildly telling me how difficult it was to get to me. WHAT? Then, with the sharpness of one precious moment, she said exactly what she had. ‘I was caught up in the LA shooting, like literally less then couple feet away.., I was in Gladstones just the other day, this n’ that’ and then I was overwhelmed.
Not to be dramatic, but wow, a shooting, retrograde, Pandy at my request. I was overwhelmed. I wanted to be dancing; Bobby n Whitney time, Kampus all on the grind, Pandy courageously on the wings of maybe, and Devo was in top form lately. So whats going on with me?? I think the Knowles sisters relate…
The night ended for me only an hour or so later. I was on Sindy’s fire escape crying it up until 4am. Yeah, birthday girl fell asleep filled with tears and awoke the next afternoon with golfball eyes sealed shut.