New York, I love you--but you're bringing me down...ba dum ba dum, ba dum ba dum

Though I am no Englishman, I will soon be a legal alien in New York.

Don't think of it as me leaving you. I chose NYC over Bremen, Germany, so there's something to be thankful for, eh?

Think of it as the greatest city in the world becoming more accessible; starting August sometime-or-other, there will be a person there--living day in and out, opening a Starbucks, grocery shopping, laundromatting, running in the rain, riding the metro--who loves and misses you.

I wish I had someone in New York who loves me. I guess I'll have to take who I find and make it happen!


"Distance is to love what wind is to fire; it kills what's fickle, but strengthens what's real."

[image courtesy of Le Love]
[title lyric courtesy of LCD Soundsystem]

"Write because expression is everything."

Love
is a combination of
finding the person who fits your definition
of love
and finding the person whose definition
you
would love
to fit.

***

"She can be really sweet, but when she decides to be mean, she's...really cutting. She knows how to take you down a notch, you know? And I think [her daughters] have learned a little bit from her."

***

well, yeah.

***

perfect college = the one that tells you not to "beat yourself up about all that Physics stuff." :]

Sponge

I easily absorb others' heartbreak.

Those who can't absorb it break my heart.

Two To Tango

life calls for a dancing partner.

dance to the dishwasher

rinsingrinsingrinsing

tango to the tea kettle’s whistle

boogie to the morning birds.

it’s time for your hands to meet new hips.

smile grudgingly

and secretly glow

when the someone whose chest fits your head

moves those defiant fingers

your worn and calloused, masterpiece-penning fingers

from your hips

to theirs.

wrestle with your furrowing eyebrows until

they pull up and out

up on your eyes

all the better to see you with, my dear.

if the beauty is too much,

close them.

music doesn’t stop.

water will churn, boil, and bathe the birds,

those impossibly incandescent lovebirds,

until your feet stand still.

Hey.

So I keep bouncing from blog to blog wondering why authors haven't posted in months.

Apparently I don't hold my own to the same judgment. Ha.

***

I read a PostSecret the other day that chilled me: "I lost my ability to write beautifully when I lost my faith."

All you need to know is that I'm slowly regaining my faith, and that I'll be back soon.

Peace, all.

You Are Impossibly Beautiful.

http://www.vimeo.com/7920691

what's my secret?

You know, -this isn't a secret, exactly- I sometimes wonder why I grew to be so open that I can't keep anything inside. For me to feel an emotion and not express it is very difficult. Sometimes I wish I were more mysterious. That I could be quiet for thirty minutes and not seem sad or afflicted.

then again..

***

I thought of this just now while watching the faces on the video at the top of postsecret.com and thought of one I'd rather not take the time to send in to Frank. why not attach my name to it?

I wish there were no such thing as gender-bound sexuality. Both to render homophobia impossible, and to make it possible to tell a beautiful woman that I find her attractive without freaking her out :) I envy those beautiful women less often than I hope from the bottom of my heart that they know how much beauty they add to the world.


what's your secret?