now…

why now? after many years, after technology has updated our lives, after so much has been achivevd and lost, why do i pick up this blog again? that was the first thing i had to ask myself. i guess i was just bored on a saturday morning, stumbled onto it and got sucked into reading all the posts, and there was one sentense, somewhere in the mist of all, that says: if every beginning has a meaning, then every ending has you. i guess part of me accept the circle of life as a fact, and part of me wishes i could change that. it’s the year 2009, future, home, love, words have different meanings now, i guess if this is a beginning again, with a meaning that makes sense to me, i want to nurture it and give it a chance to grow, and not plot its death already. is this the year to change? can i ever change? who are you still in all my endings, a reference or something real? even i can’t tell anymore.

old thoughts, new questions

Really, how hard can it be? To put pieces of the past and present together. They say time wont kill love, but timing will. A small play in London I have no chance to see before it was over, music composed by one Neil Codling. Maybe I should go to London, just for a while and connect the dots. Before that, here in New York, an era ended with a night of refined denial, we were all so experienced in playing the game and forgot usually the best swimmers drown. You see, If I could take it all back, I would. And if time stopped the moment we met, remembrance became just a formula, then I would have moved on with no regrets. But just between us, life went on, it was sad, yet somehow, years in the making, still made sense. Love? You called it first.

December…

On my walk home on Tuesday night, I found pieces of memories hanging on a colorful tree. It’s a poem, a song, a shadow, the torn plastic bag shivering against the wind, the long shadows of Dekalb, the music of your touch blowing against my windsheld on 95, and the places that no longer had names. I buried you, but haven’t forgotten about you. It’s December again. It’s the thought of you that feared me, and sometimes I wonder if I should walk away from the end of this beginning.

blurb…

week 2 of insane stress. bloody brilliant.

Quick updates on the life of the nearly sane …

back in the states, back in nyc, without my doggy, without the soul part of a soul searching travel. stumbled onto grad school, a week of trust falls and catered food, a week of encounter the new and parting the old. then intense lack of sleep due to apt and my bro. sadness of ayesha’s departure. missing hanging out with the girls. want to sit down and write but have no time. wrote a script but discovered later can’t shoot on most of the locations because of… LAW? and ayesha starts to dream of harry potter… haha… mission accomplished. cris tells me i should wash the lettuce i bought before eating it. heather is taking care of a homeless dog named Foxy. my new mates at school are too kool for school. i thought tom chaplin and rupert grint are bloody fit. wong kar wai is still a god. i miss having a cook.

I’m a Slytherin, as expected.

I’m
a Slytherin!

all my friends are evil, naturally.

blurb proxy style

after finally breaking through, proxy style, i was internet literate again. what was worth writing down? nothing more than a world of glitter covered pretty faces, actors, dancers, singers, models, and men who enjoyed the cloudiness of vain cuban cigars.  i sat wearing my think-green t-shirt, jeans and flipflops, more unpolished than my worst bohemain intent, trying to smile like not-so-teen spirit.  someone brought me a hookah, apple flavored, like it was a joke and i smoked, taught the pretty faces how to inhale such intoxicating fume.  it wasn’t any specific person that intrigued my memories at that very moment, it was a feeling, like the honesty of an autumn night in fort greene, like that special song played on the brooklyn bridge.

i wished it was the truth that would inspire me again.  a truth so close to love like the melting of vocal molasses, the rare realness stored in the museum of earthly regrets i no longer planned to visit.

So much to do, so little time…

gotta book 2 sets of plane tix, looking for someone to sublet my apt till september, get out of my lease, get taytay on the plane, PACK,  dealing with my bro’s high school and NYU, get my hair done, shopping, SEE KEANE AND MANU CHAO, feeling bad for missing 311, and many many farewells…

so much to do, so lil time, gotta stop caking…

redo

sometimes you must erase the date to update. so this is now, and this is me, only he is no longer…

he is like the moon in Sweden’s early spring, bathing in Pandora’s unborn innocence. I watch him walking away, like Sade’s voice, coloring Jupiter’s shadow, foreseeing the plot of 2046. i open my soul to see his eyes, his lips, hands, his scent, blending with tender flaws. He is oh so special, for me to write a poem, and let it flow as snow spring rain tangoing rivering down the night sky, could never truly show the world what a beautiful man he is.

Few updates…

two words best describe my life in the last week: SPACED OUT.

it wasnt the kinda spacing out based on the lack of action, but the kinda when you standing in the middle of time square (where i will NEVER go), with sharp chaos slashing through from every angle, and what do you do? space out. and space out i did.

Heather came down to nail her apt, i ended up going out every night and working everyday, didnt go to babel on thursday due to a fight with twin and some major household action.

Friday we went to a bday party uptown (1st time going uptown this yr) and ended up singing some old rock songs (Blake inspired) and scared Alia and her friends… well done Attah, and ran into the one and only Forrest Renaissance who use to rock my tuesday nights with the dope Eclectic Ride music, but that era has officially passed, didnt make it to Forrest’s LES party later that night, ended up at CAKESHOP chatting with the girls about… life…. till 4am (did try to stop by Pianos to catch a show but people were playin Guitar Hero?!!!wtf).

Saturday I watched two Yankees/Mets games at work, didnt finish the second one, got a bottle of wine and went to a loft party uptown (2nd time going uptown this yr), ended up at some Irish pub to ask about the scores two blocks away from the party and it’s called O’Reily’s… i stood outside the pub and laughed at the name for five minutes… man the place had all the Brooklyn Dodger’s memorabilia, very depressing, and i had the oldest bartender who made me the nastiest magarita i ever had… and yankees lost… i went on to the party where i knew almost no one except Joe and Ross who my roommie Tara from college had a crush on and whose band she had snatched me to see in the purring rain at the Knitting Factory (where I swore never go back for very legit reasons), i missed most of the show but those cats were interesting characters, not my genre of music, but very unique, check them out it’s called TallyHall. Anyways the lack of familiar faces didn’t stop us from drinking endless cups of trade joes wine and eating chocolate bars and totally leveled up our BFB bad french behavior by engaging a long conversation about my once tragic love life, more depressing than the Dodger.

Sunday i ended up watching some Redsux game with Patrick while working at my bar as the worst and least attentive bartender in nyc, by sunday night when i struggled to finish some finale shows, i passed out royally.

Then came the weekdays, i didnt real remember monday, i never do, monday has been my invisible day for years, i just sleep through it. Tuesday was of course made special this year for the first time by one very cakelicious american idol, so i watched, very cakey, and got some text msg yankees updates about arods bad acts. Wednesday was simply fabulous, i sat as the only girl at Gastby’s, cheered for Milan with some italian mates and then Patrick and Heather came like right before the game was over, lame, we ended up with way too many bluemoons and notellas for our own good. Blake didn’t win, thank god, if i gotta hear him sing that crappy pop song one more time, i’d die, he is a REAL musician, f this s**t. Last night after making up with twin i sent my crew to babel and caught the 10pm show of Paris Je t’aime with Carolyn, Joe, Adrianna and her friend who looked a lot like Blake (i bit my tongue not to say that since im still happily in the american idol watching closet). Ok now this is where the anger kicked in, it sucked, even though it was exactly what i had expected and each short was like a bad trailer of what would the director have done with their features, so you pretty much have to love at least 80% of the directors to not hate the film or fall asleep halfway, it just showed not every director can director AND write. I was especially disappointed at Doyle (still love him to death) since i almost jumped out of my seat when his short started. Now after i told my french news updater Attah, even she decided to wait for the dvd to come out, no faith. Oh man. trying to remain hopeful for Once to be good… Afterwards the real drama started, babel was a mess, everyone was angry at something or someone, as Henry and I hugged outside the big wooden door and just looked at the scene and both agreed it was officially the end of an era, sigh, so much bittersweetness. So we ended the night early and the girls took a long walk, a beautiful night tho. Next Thursday we will do it one more time, one last time babes.

So this morning i woke up and bought a plane tix (roundtrip thank god), it’s that time of the year to take a break and hopefully i dont have to end up canceling and storing it as credit with Expedia like i did in Feb, gosh they love me. While we were waiting for the Blake-look-alike to get his popcorn at Landmark, surrounded by all the posters of movies I love and wish I had made, Joe said like he was speaking the truth: “you are gonna make movies.” That cynical laugh inside of me was planning its escape, but I kept my mouth shut, cuz I found it all so hopelessly hilarious. Even though the days of trying soooo bad to be good was way pass due, while i was becoming simple, bordering giving up and yet film schools, opportunities and even inspiration just flooded in from all direction. Aint life a bitch, when you cared least, it decided to make it happen for you.

I listened to all his music earlier when I was organizing old CDs, even those that brought back the most stupid memories, and I felt hopeful. Hopeful can never be bad. So maybe im finally ready for some Fort Greene and Clinton Hill action.

Awww. It’s summer again.