brooklyn, take me in

sweet texas, just what i needed.

that city holds a piece of my heart.

i slept 14 hours last night (needed it desperately) and i might stay in with didion and some doja and kel's mix... brookly-take-me-in.

i am so excited for this next stage of my life; it's scary, overwhelming, and when i think i've only been alive 23 years i can't begin to fathom what the next 23 will hold. does time speed up? 

time is a tricky thing. you don't see someone for ages and when you do it's like that time never elapsed. if i had a crystal ball, or a trusty psychic, would i want to know the end of the story?

sometimes when i'm reading and i know something juicy is coming up i have to put my hand over the bottom of the page, otherwise i try to read ahead and where i am at the same time.

maybe it's time i put my hand over the next page and open my eyes to right now.

and brooklyn, take me in. i'll be good to you.

they call it the hill country

i bought a ticket for austin today, leaving on tuesday.

i told my friends in texas and they asked me... are you okay? and i am okay.

i am okay, and part of me thinks i should stick it out here, feel it all the way through, and use it when the time comes.

but the other part is homesick for texas, scared of what i might choose to do if left to my own devices for a couple more weeks...

because these here are dead weeks. the 20th i do orientation for new york cares, and then there's the nyu open house and cuny's doing a bar thing, and after that i should hear from the internship people...

but the 8th to the 20th is almost two weeks, and after my behavior at the bar, followed by a series of events that have called to my attention the need for me to be smarter... and it's not that i'm not aware that every dude is not to be trusted... but if i didn't trust the few that i have enough to hang out with them, then who would i hang out with?

and rilke is real big on solitude, and he says, in letters to a young poet, to embrace it, and work with it and from it. like, WRITE. but i'm SCARED TO WRITE.

i'm scared to be left to what i really think, to strip it away from friends and comfort and parties, opinions casually espoused over a toke; to turn it into something meaningful to be pondered, cherished, understood.

and more immediately, i am trying to tie my outer self to my inner self, when these two skins seem at times drastically at odds. people look at me and what do they think? what do i want them to think? why should i care... except that i need them to share with me their lives. 

but reporting, for me, can't be purely recording... and i wouldn't want it to be. but it affects me, what people say and do. and i find myself responding to people in ways that cause me to see things in myself i didn't fully see were there.

javi, in high school, gave me this cheap gaudy ring and i'm going to keep it in my purse from now on. with some pepper spray.

i think, if i want to do this, i'm going to need to focus on fully on writing. it's scary, though, because i have no idea where it will lead my life. 

things i want to write about:

-education

-gentrification

-street art

-subways

-people

still consuming massive amounts of words. today, started 'a tree grows in brooklyn'... a little context.

#3, never trust no-bo-dy

i been in this game for years, it made me an animal

there's rules to this shit, i wrote me a manual

a step-by-step booklet for you to get

yo game on track, not your wig pushed back

-biggie, 'ten crack commandments'

i'm reading rilke's 'letters to a young poet', and it's sort of similar to biggie's crack commandments. listening to biggie in brooklyn just feels right, and i'm learning the lessons of the streets.

i'm gonna be one tough cookie before long. people say i'm 'assertive' now... not sure if that cuts it on the streets. have to keep it 100% real and be aware.

awareness. i sit on the subways and the stories unfold in front of my eyes. today a man had his two sons and little baby daughter with him. presumably, he had just picked them up from their mother's, because he was cussing, wilin out..  dude had no problem just yelling at his bratty kids on a subway when there are people all over the place. baby mama drama.

it's weird how it's not okay to look in people's eyes, it can be construed to the point of being an invitation for a come-on...  it's strange because i like to look in people's eyes.. but dudes around here just be hollering like it's absolutely vital for you to know exactly what's on their mind. which is sex.

rilke, on sex:

'sex is difficult; yes. but those tasks that have been entrusted to us are difficult; almost everything serious is difficult; and everything is serious. if you just recognize this and manage, out of yourself, out of your own talent and nature, out of your own experience and childhood and strength, to achieve a wholly individual relation to sex (one that is not influenced by convention and custom), then you will no longer have to be afraid of losing yourself and becoming unworthy of your dearest possession.'

heavy. 

i found out who was knocking on my door... the census man. they slid a piece of paper under my door saying they want to have a census interview or something? no, thank you.

muhfuckers do not need to knock on my door.

i'm learning these streets. and i won't let 'em get the best of me. now, i just have to learn how to do this without becoming scarlett o'hara.

lone star state

yesterday was cinco de  mayo, and i noticed it's not so big around here than in previous places i've lived. there aren't so many mexicans... maybe in certain parts it's big, but down in bay ridge....

i finally hit up LONE STAR, the bar a couple blocks from my house. i made friends with some Mohawk Indians from Canada, who are iron workers that work on the Freedom Tower (formerly the world trade center) through the week, and travel six hours up north to their reservation in Canada every weekend. 

There's a story right there, if there ever was one.

The irony of a bunch of native americans erecting the freedom tower after terrorists wiped it out is not lost on me.

they were gentlemen, big rough old guys with no fear and a taste for boozin.

and, drinking lone star, i felt a little less homesick. funny how i've been so homesick for texas... yes, indeed it was my home. 

scarlett o'hara has invaded my soul

i am knee (shoulder?) deep in gone with the wind... i had been holding onto this old copy for over a year now and i thought it was the right time for it... i am totally floored by how deep and historically rich it is! i am seeing things from a new, unfamiliar eye... i think great writers are the ones who make you do that.

memorable excerpt of the day:

'yes, a baby would make her happy and would take her mind off things she had no business fooling with. sometimes frank sighed, thinking he had caught a tropic bird, all flame and jewel color, when a wren would have served him just as well. in fact, much better.'

deep, yes?

the number of people(men) i encounter every day is mind boggling. in the subways, on the streets, in the coffee shops. walking down 86th street. today i was carrying a bag of groceries, and i did have a pair of high waisted wrangler cut-offs on, so it's not like i'm innocent in all this...

dude says 'damn girl! where you from? hollywood? las vegas?' 

i spun around at that. damn, what you know about that vegas swag?? haha

buying groceries at whole foods in union square was a freeforall shitshow. never seen the likes of it... and ashley's little brother helped. totally nuts day.

and i fell in love.... IN LOVE... with hermes scarf collection. i mean i knew forever i wanted one to wrap my hair in, but i had only seen the red-blue-white ones with the gold rope print and you know it wasn't really my swag but these new ones!! on their website!! it's unreal. 

like this one

i want a green one. scarlett o'hara has invaded my soul

one thing is missing here:

girlfriends.

like these.

i hope i make some soon.

the artist is present

i'm reading gone with the wind and... rhett butler: what a man. mind you, i'm only 250 pages in, but what a MAN.

this weekend has been interesting. last post i didn't mention at all one of the coolest parts of my friday... it was free day at the MoMA, and i had been looking forward all week to seeing the current exhibit. it's called 'the artist is present' and it is a retrospective of the work of marina abramovic, a serbian performance artist. 

woman is wild ooooooh! it was partly video from her previous performances... some memorable ones: her laying on a cross of ice naked until she couldn't stop shivering and then kneeling and flogging herself repeatedly with a whip. her grubbing an entire onion, including the peel, for twenty minutes. her brushing her hair really really hard. 

and the other part was made up of various artists reenacting some of her performances. most of these artists were nude. so of course that was interesting. my favorite part was walking between two rooms of the exhibit through a narrow passageway flanked by naked people facing each other. so in order to pass through you have to brush against these people, and you get to choose who you give the ass and who gets to look into your face. 

i loved that! the people i walked between were two women, one super tall and one my size... i faced the short one so as not to be eye-level with the tall one's boobies.

a lot of it made me uncomfortable, which i think was the point. the nudity did not bother me, but the self-flagellation and the various torturous things she did to herself really made me uneasy. seems like she's got a lot of pain. when i was watching her eat that onion, i really felt like i was going to gag. AND THAT'S ART!

so besides that i found one of my favorite nina albums on vinyl, and got my mom a mother's day present (an ali farka toure cd). i found two cool parks: prospect park (big) and the waterfront park in williamsburg (small).

i applied for one internship and signed up for new york cares, a volunteer hub that offers the chance to walk dogs at a brooklyn shelter, do yoga with middle schoolers with autism, paint murals at public schools, and read bedtime stories to kids in 'transition homes'.. orphanages, essentially. i am stoked, because all of these things sound really cool and fulfilling in different ways.

i am loving brooklyn more and more.