Saturday, October 18, 2008


I have recently started reading in a new way. In the past, I would drive through a book from beginning to end, navigating carefully between the commas, exclamations and paragraphs to move in geographical sense from the title to the very last word. Now, after having come across some books which i had forced myself to finish in order to find meaning, not wanting to have robbed myself of discovering something new or having wasted my time, i would plug through much like someone at the slot machine who refuses to leave because of all the quarters, times, and prayers, they had put into their endeavor. I have since realized that this method brings me no comfort, and so i have since veered into just putting the book away and leaving it alone, refusing to skip or skim pages to discover the end, fearful that this might become an addicting forming habit in which all my readings could suffer this race car driver fate, robbing me of great novels.

However I soon noticed that sometimes this too was not ideal as my mind would drift upon the fate of those characters, and wonder what happened, where could that story have been going? Which has brought me to another phase, the phase, i was initially avoiding, the race car method, which consists of shortcuts much driving violations, and yes, the danger of becoming addicted to a quick ending in detriment of an enjoyable reading. A method that I fear, are remote controls, and high speed online surfing has infected us with.

I became aware of this when I had started reading revolutionary road by Richard Yates, which is about the confinements of suburbia, which seem to linger too much at one point, and although a fine novel, I had become tired of hearing the characters whine and I raced toward the end. I just had a difficult time feeling anything for the characters and although their issues seemed justifiable and even relevant to today, and to the world in which I live, I just failed to become embroiled in the narrative, but felt as if i were drifting slightly while watching a bickering couple.

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Is destiny telling me to go home

If i am to make a list of all the things that happened to me since I have returned to NY the acronym is GO HOME.

I was mugged and my expensive thick leather bag was ripped with a knife in the process, my stupid neighbor decides its a good idea to keep his stupid relentlessy barking dog locked in the hall accross my bedroom window, after a sleepless week where i try to plead with them to no avail, my boss tells me I will yet again be responsible for the work that we had agreed I would not do, as the person who was previously completing the tasks was leaving the company. I send him an email letting him know I could/would not do the task but was willing to leave if it would make things more convenient. He then not only asked me to leave right away, but he walks repeatedly back and forth in front of my desk as if to motivate me to leave "sooner then right away" to "immediately".

I can only wonder is this bad luck condensed in less then a months time or is the world plotting for me to return to my little island as fast as my little feet can take me?

Never mind, no more signs, i am leaving.


Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Lets hold her up to some light

My sister is the type of person who instructs you what to do and what not to do with the certainty that she does no wrong.

Except well, she happens to be human, and she does do things wrong, and it just happens that she does lots wrong, as many of us do, hrrhmm, myself of course not excluded.

Perhaps its due to this inevitable reality, that I never developed an interest in keeping a score card and also because I am a little lazy, that I have always overlooked her errors, but now that she is adding to her list by finger pointing at me, I feel obliged to remind her that she may want to rethink this action, or perhaps, she may want to practice it in front of a mirror to herself until she has enumerated and improved all her faults before scolding other for theirs, namely me, for mine. See saying "about glass houses".

Just in case she also suffers from poor memory in this partularly sensitive and often obscure area or just lack of clarity, as alas, much of us do, I am kindly posting her a (kindly because I haven't added her name and picture above, at least not yet) list below.

Mortal Sins of a Mortal Girl:

  • She didn't follow up with the paper work for her morgage causing my mother much frustration as she scrambles to help her by providing her with money.
  • She sent the bank the wrong building plan, one that was not approved part of her construction permit.
  • She quit her job even though her loan was thrown out for faulty paperwork and even though she was not very good at overseeing the construction as she accumulated many costly errors.
  • She refused help with the ongoing construction of her house until she had committed so many errors she didn't know how to solve them then she went crying to our mother. Which makes the construction that much more costly and difficult.
  • She dumped her dog who she refused to train not to jump on the couch and obey simple commands on my mom to babysit. Even though my mom was tired of cleaning the balacony with that oily residue his fur leaves behind, constantly washing the throw covers of chairs and sofa, and running after him every time he escaped.
  • She thinks the dog is her first priorty and wastes hours everyday dropping him off at my mothers and walking him, leaving my poor mother to do much of her work on the construction site.
  • She visits the vet every 2-3 months because the dog has an incurrable illness, spending all her money on him, leaving my mom with the financial obligations of her house, which she insisted must have very costly ammenities.

Well, look at that, when we hold her up to the light, she does have lots of cracks after all.

Monday, September 29, 2008

Bark, Bark, Bite

Thursday I am awakened by C my neighbors dog at 4:00 am. I graciously await 11:00 am to leave a message on there answering machine. When I come home that night, they are not home, but C is still unrelentingly barking up a storm which has the effect of slowly and painfully unhinging my back bone. At 9:00 pm I spot the daughter making her way to her door. I explain, that her dog is very cute, but I am finding it hard to sleep, she looks at me blankly, as if I am explaing something that does not relate to her. After my babbling a bit which is due to my incomprehension on how to state the obvious without seeming rude, she says she will tell her parents. A full 15 minutes later of more barking she brings C out. I am relieved. My issue is solved, by pain is coming to an end, I keep focusing on the light at the end of the tunnel. I go to bed, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

4:00 am C begins her incessant and piercing barking, much like an alarm I can't turn off. Frantic I call my mother for help, support, guidance. She tells me to leave a note as if everything can be resolved with a simple note, what she doesn't understand is that these neighbors are not normal, nor have they ever been. They think that the entire block is their domain and that the other people living are there serfs...or perhaps at best, loiters, they must put up with. Sitting there with the early morning light making its way through a dreary rainy morning, drinking my extra strong green tea in hopes it will keep me awake, I spot the neighbor with the vociferous canine. I go up to him "your dog is really nice but really loud and unfortunatley she started barking at 4:00 am. He looks at me blankly. Does this family suffer from some sort of brain disorder I begin to wonder. I suggest helpfully, "maybe you can move him into another room". He replies, grumpily and stubbornly "there is no other place". I try to encourage all my brain cells to unite in an effort to find a reply which will not offend said neighbor, but will not sound like I except his explanation as a solution. I push on bravely "Well we need to do something, because as I said, she is cute but really loud". "so its a morning thing, she usually doesn't do this" "well I push on yet again, its also in the day and the evening" "when do you come home?" he asks. "fivish" I reply and thinking he has find a solution or in the mist of finding a solution, or befor he goes off in the wrong direction, some way to get out of correcting the situation, I thank him and turn around to leave. Well now its finally over.

It wasn't pleasant, no one appoligized, but I am getting some peace and quiet. Its over.

When I arrive home that evening, it is blissfully quiet. No barking. I sigh...see everyone is right, communication is key.

I go to sleep, and still not a peep from C.

It's 4:00, and we are back where we began. I work on being patient, he must be working on the problem I tell myself. Not trusting myself to talk to him without telling him he is a dumb moron with no etiquette nor a shadow of a brain, I decide not to leave a second message. I tell myself he is trying to walk her later it just didn't work and he will see that for himself.

Saturday, I must be so tired I don't hear C. I wake up refreshed.

Sunday, C barks continuously from 4 to 5. At 5 AM someone opens a door and he quiets down immediately.

Ok, so now they see it doesn't help and she is still barking at 4. They will try something else now.

Monday, C starts barking at 3:00! She has moved her barking cycle up an hour! Furious I sit at my desk to pen a letter, which I finally deem is polite, but some what firmer, which I tape to the neighbors door. A nice long piece of tape I decide in a half crazed mood must show my determination.

3:40 a door opens again, and like magic C stops barking. I check the window. The note has disappeared.

The only reason why I have not called the police yet is because they are geographically very close neighbors and because they seem to be trying to solve this issue even though they seem awfully slow witted about their attempts. Perhaps its after all not there fault if they are not bright.

But this is it, they have 48 hours and then I bite. I will call 911.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Time sponges be gone

I had a head hunter who emailed me when I was away on vacation. I emailed back explaining I wouldn't be in the states for another month. He replied "enjoy".

Then I received a voice mail from him on my return, which I promptly returned. To be contacted twice with such a time gap may mean a position that may be hard to fill. Perhaps a position which requires proficiency in French. Perhaps this is something lucrative. I reason, if it's hard to fill, and they really need someone, it should pay well. Excitely, I call him the next morning on the train to work and we scale through polite formalities quickly.

"So is anything on your radar I ask?"

"What?" (as in he needs to buy time to lie).

I repeat my question.

"oh i'm not at my desk". (meaning, he just needs to look busy by interviewing people as there is probably a lul)

"Can you call me back later" he asks.

"Sure", I lie.

If there is something on the table I know he will contact me to give me the details. I don't call back. A week later. He calls me "why don't you come in to meet the office so we can get you set up with something?" I am doubtful, but I think it would be nice to have a nicer position. What can it hurt? Then, the day of the meeting, I think to myself, I don't feel like trecking over there for a position that doesn't exist and come running back to work worrying about my suspicous lateness. Besides, I reason, I really don't want to see J. the head hunter, who keeps insinuating that we should go out and who doesn't seem to pick up on the fact that my avoiding responding should clue him in. Obviously, he cares little about my discomfort, and less about my time, and wasting it. Five minutes before my appointment I call him and leave a voice mail that I won't be able to make it due to playing catch up on my 1 month long vacation in St. Barth.

Sigh. I am trying hard not to be bitchy... but I hope it hurt.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Avoiding small talk of the painful variety

Taking my little pizza box I make my way over to sit in front of a fountain with other fountain gazers enjoying the last remants of the summer sun.

Since returning from the caribbean, and also perhaps, since being almost mugged, I have become more aware of my surroundings. I look more closely at people, and perhaps this is how i notice there is a man with an orange pants and green shirt. My eyes linger. He looks like my ex. However it couldn't be, because my ex would never own much less wear such colors. Maybe the green top, but never the pants. Yet I am fascinated in a disturbed sort of way, I try looking closer, I squint. As this person occasionally looks around him briefly. He grabs his ear and starts rubbing it. A gesture I think he did, in fact, i am pretty sure. I try to calm myself by focusing on the fact that I am sitting behind him so maybe he won't notice. Then even better, I think I need to leave before being noticed. I scoop up my stuff, just when i see from the corner of my eyes, he is making his way to my corner. Calmly, I get up so my back is facing the sidewalk he is making his way to, then I coyly turn and make my way to where he just left, quickly leaving him behind.

Monday, September 22, 2008

I need a personal manager

I need a personal manager who walks up behind me and gives me taps on the back of my head whenever I stray from what I am suppose to be doing. They wouldn't need to be heavy duty amnesia provoking taps just irritating enough for me to desire to avoid them and also serve the purpose of redirecting me when it does occurr. "tap". Back on course.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Grey day

Today is grey and kind of gloomy. The kind of day you stay in bed for with a good book under the covers. I am coveting my pillows. One for my head, the other my arms.

It is 4:00 the worst part of my day. My lunch is settling in like an anchor pulling deep into the depths of sleep. A world impervious to my supposed office duties.

I can feel the pressure growing on my face, my eyelids, my cheeks, encouraging me to succumb. My entire body, turning itself off. I am fighting with out much intent to remain awake like a lone sailor trying to navigate a large yacht who has lost all crew.

I protest quietly while i feel myself slipping irrisistibly away. I just need a second.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Almost mugged on the E line

I was almost mugged standing in the Subway. It was overcrowded and I felt as if I was being unnecessarily leaned into. I move around to adjust my position to create more room, but he is definitely leaning into me and it seems intentional now. I switch my bag to the front of me and squeeze my bag feeling for my wallet. It's there. I look at him to see what kind of person, he looks thuggish. I have my wallet and my cell phone, I start focusing on my exit so I can make it as quickly as possible through the thick unyielding crowds. I go to the rest room at my office and I notice my bag has been ripped open with a knife.

I go back to the platform and they call officers to come and meet me. They take down his description and show me tiny pictures on laminated cards. He is not on their cards.

I seem to be an oddity for them. Remembering the person, providing a description, and not really having had anything stolen. They grow to a group of 8.

Maybe it's my stance. I am not ranting, or crying, but determined. Cops seem to be judgemental creatures, it's their job to assess people quickly, and I feel as if they are not quite sure what to make of me.

They take down my info and I thank them as we part.

Monday, August 04, 2008

St. Barth Tomorrow

My ex tenant has moved out and has left me wood bar stools, a desk, an antique kitchen scale, some more furniture, candles, and a fat cat named Meow who and which I will see for the first time tomorrow.

My brand new taupe bags are not yet packed because I ordered them late and are expected to arrive after I leave which is of course not beneficial to me. My cousin has lent me his suitcase but which i have thus far refused to pack as I optimistically hold out hope that my luggage will arrive today. Speaking of which, I can't help but feel as if he is harboring some jealously or animosity connected to my leaving.

My lengthy shopping for my mother who is in St. Barth is completed.

The house has been cleaned, the garden trimmed, and the lawn mowed.

Everything I plan to bring is stored together awaiting with an expectant air for their future bag.

Yet I have this anxiety that I am missing something which will come to me only once I am on the plane or perhaps, I am just anxious, anxious about seeing my house again, or the trip, or leaving all my plants in my father's care.

Yesterday, I was so anxious, I had to remind myself I could stay if I wanted to. Which I really can't, I suppose, as I will need to work on my house. But I mean, it's strange to be so anxious without a definite reason and since I was not quite sure what I was anxious about, it was difficult to reason with myself.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Blue jay killed

We had an accident in my backyard. A bluebird was killed. There was a cat lurking under the trees that ran off upon seeing me. A guilty cat.

The blue jay was majestic. Its feathers, what fashion designers fail to attempt, untouchable breathtaking beauty. A mixture of grace, grandeur and humbleness. A quality of frailty and strength.

Its blue striped feathers dotted the lawn like the scene of a tragic opera. Looking at it lying there, I felt helpless. There was nothing I could do. The story finished before I could interact or intercede.

Touched, I went to retrieve a little box with tissue paper. I dug a hole. It helpted to do something. Gently placing the bird in the silver and white paper, then in the box, which seemed inappropriate for something that seemed so pure and blue, like a piece of the sky broken off, I placed him in the ground and covered him with dirt. I found blue flowers which I placed at the site.

Life seems quite ambivalent to it's little creatures.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Walking away

I'm going away for one month to take care of my house in St. Barth. I am not sure returning to NY is such a great idea. I am not really invested in my job, which is thoroughly unfulfilling, nor do I have an apt I need to hold on to, nor do I have anyone here to return to.

I can just walk away...

Thursday, July 24, 2008


I want to submerge myself in clear blue water and swim until I can't move anymore, then i want to devour cheese puff balls with Heineken, and collapse in a white hammock, focusing on my rhythmic breath.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Study of the unwitting development of evil

I once had a subway conductor who would seemingly, intentionally, and quite cruelly refuse to leave the stations in a timely manner. First he would fuss for ever with the doors, then once closed, he would wait a full minute to 3 minutes before launching off as we all held our breath fearing the doors would pop open once more. This, while rush hour is in full swing and everyone has run in a frenzy to make this subway so they can make their train, which will leave you behind regardless of any sadistic conductor you may meet. Our eyes glancing in a repetive tick-like motion to our watches our faces a combination or resignation, frustration and anxiety.

Having missed my train, I leisurely walk up to his window and glare at him, he takes off right away.

For a very brief moment, I had an insane, yet repressed desire to take on a gypsy accent and say I curse you, your family, your children, their children, their grandchildren, their great grandchildren, in fact I realize I am cursing all of humanity, which is probably in a small subtle way what this conductor is attempting.

I exhale and go for flying saucer ice cream.

Leaving for St. Barth in 2 weeks

I still don't have luggage. I still don't have any capris which are so very necessary there (pants being too hot, shorts too casual, dresses to fussy, capris generously leave mosquitos that window at their disired ankle area for them to gnaw on). My house is still not cleaned. My shopping is still not done. I am still fussing over the baggage requirments and pondering the possiblity that they may really make me pay excess baggage from St. Martin to St. Barth. I am caught between the desire to play it safe and bring the only 40 pounds per traveler permitted and sneaking in extra pounds based on the fact that the airline is generally pretty customer friendly and has allowed me to do so in the past.

I am caught one foot hovering in mid air, the other staunchly anchored to the ground.

I realize that this is also a very accurate description of my life. This perpetual over sucrutinizing of possibilities that I lack enough information to make a logical decision about coupled with lots of unfinished business that may never be attended to. So I stand perplexed, not moving forward, yet also not moving backward, a foot in mid-air.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Leaving for St. Barth in 3 weeks

I am leaving for St. Barth in 3 weeks to take care of my house. My tenant who has grown into the habit of habitually paying late and is presently 3 months behind has promised that if he were not able to provide me with the full payment by the July he would leave. Which I suppose I should be grateful for as it didn't require legal intervention to have him removed. He opened a restaurant which apparently is not working out as he expected so I can only be understanding, these things happen and he said he would pay me the past months in increments.

Then just as I thought I was becoming use to this idea and make plans to visit my house for renovation and enjoyment, the neighbor who borders my little pool and the back side of my house, has recently taken to massacre the native palm trees that divide his property and my house. I am thankful I am not there to see those poor trees that took decades to grow in harsh dry land lie helplessly on the ground looking up at the sky wondering what they did to deserve this. My privacy vanquished, my house standing there with large multiple doors open allowing the birds to fly through is now also on display for these neighbors.

The natives on the island seem to suffer from a strange affliction, of chopping down all the trees on their property and sometimes even on other peoples property that borders their land. Then they complain that it's hot, it doesn't rain, that there's no water to be had. Try to tell them that trees provide shade, maintain humidity and encourage rain and watch as they look at you like you mentioned that they need to plant magnets in order to make refrigerators. I won't mention to them that trees are attractive, I am sure to get a look of pity.

I am building a wall. I may not be able to stop them from destroying their land, but I will preserve mine and the wall, which holds humidly and will reduce the wind that batters my trees will serve to protect them. It will also thankfully separate me from those people.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Grandmother Florestine Left

I woke up early this morning feeling something was amiss. It was too early to wake up and I had gone to bed sinfully late. But, there I was looking at my watch, struggling to make sense how it could be so early when my body felt like to move, roam, run, eat, and move forward with my day. I feel a slight anxiety, an obscure excitement. The phone rings, I hear my cousin speaking from the other room where the answering machine is. I am amazed he would call me so early. I think about getting up to check but my sleeping mind cannot put together any possibly alarming scenario that would warrant depriving me of possible sleep which might come to me, which I would appreciate later in the day, like a traveler lamenting the weight of his bags but thankful for the contents later. I twist and turn. I worry about my not being able sleep. I am generally a good sleeper. Something is not right. Something, but what. I run over in my mind my day and fail to find anything that would cause me this flighty feeling.

Later when its time to get up I play the answering machine, apart from my cousin's call, there are 2 other messages on it from my uncle. He sounds very sad but does not mention why he calls. I think about my grandmother. My mind draws up an image of her in her wheel chair, thin, sad, but perhaps worse than these, she is resigned. I wanted to visit her more often but that look and the fact that she couldn't hear me stopped me from visiting as often as I wanted. She tells me about taking care of my teeth. My family reassures me that this is what she says now.

I remembered how she like to wear pants when everyone else on the island her age only wore dresses. I remember appreciating how she kept her house spare. Giving away things that took up room. All these years I had thought it was the architecture of the house that appealled to me, but having returned their later, I realized it was also the way she kept it so that air and sun could flow through. It was all simplicity and lightness. I share with her the way she liked to garden and see things grow.

For years I avoided seeing her because of some issues we had, when i returned, she was gone in a way and now she has left entirely.

I will light an candle for her tonight so that she may find her way.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

sibling chattttter (Apple is drunk chatting) (M avoiding work at work)

*Rose (left): Mom's cat



no i am the one knocking
not u

oh i am knocking too

what up

see you knock on one side and i on the other

does not make sence
your logic is flaud

depends what you desire from the knock


as is your spelling

oh lala

maybe i just want to understand
the cultural phenomenon of knocking
or partake in it

maybe you should just open the door

is rose still in hiding because of your dogs brutish behavior
ha but what would be the fun

i think it would make a lot more sence

it depends
we can communicate by knocks
there are angry knocks

what makes u say that

M: urgent knocks

she not hiding

M: mom said she was in hiding

oh well not anymore

when your dog mauled poor baby rose
anyway i guess she is a bit of a snob, i suppose ur dog would take offense to that

oh llaala
i have something to ask


do yo know


u know there is a name for the history of words

boo doo boo doo boo doo boo doo

i forget what it is
the orgin
of a word


oh i know you are genious

no no
i am God

i love looking at where the name originated from

why are you a nerd
jay you can't chat for shit
whata re you doing

nothing i am looking up words

hold on

on online etymology dictionary

are u going to be an englsih major
and me i will be a computer engineer
but people will hate me
because if they are mean
i will have to teach them respect by way of sabotage
diliberate karma

(entymology of name copy pasted here)

yes i know that
and jay is the gift to men
but that is relvant
jay you are FAILING your chat duties
how was work
did you have fun with Theirrry
is he building you a shrine
will he collect your bones before you leave
to complete it
does he follow you around with holy water
kuma sa
Kuma sa

got to go mom is next to


fuck u
u thnk that u are so great at it think again


Apple: what did you bring to the conversation


nothing at least i found where your name orginated


what ever warrior


i am boring u


i was just curious
ok bye

that is the most words you have written yet
if u are there
please get me mom
she is more chatty

i am there but u ar too rude

that is fine
i don't feel likek staring at my own words

yea of course because she just says yes a listen what ever u want to talk about

that would be "toi"

what anybody else has to say u are not interested in

that is not true

i will get you a parot

i am very interested
thank you but i fear i already have one
perhaps we should of stayed with the knocking

Sent at 1:58 PM on Tuesday

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Tummy Troubles

These are things nobody wants to hear of course. I have been suffering from IBS or some other naughty bowel disorder. I now hate my bowels with more hatred then i knew i had in me.

I have been cleansing, eating gross nutritious food, researching, trying, failing, researching, trying failing for more longer then i care to admit.

I am frustrated, angry, tired and depressed and know more about the digestive tract then I ever hoped to. I also feel alternately hungry but am too fearfull to eat a full meal. This illness has a hovering presence that looms over me and preys on me relentlessly.

Many believe IBS to be caused by anxiety which is strange because I think it is IBS that causes me anxiety, sort of like a thief calling a victim a thief.

In any case, I will now be buying and trying 5-htp to raise my sertonin level! Yay!

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Time zone

My supervisor likes to work on things early, which in my time zone, is me trying to decipher between dream and reality, as well as wondering if the uncomfortable subway ride with people pressing into me due to lack of space, is some kind of atonement for past sins I can't quite recall but which are no doubt numerous as the sequence repeats itself every a.m.


There is someone who works in my office who lurches, shoulders and head hunched as if he is use to walking in a low cave. He has slight snarl on his face. His upper body pitching slightly in front of him. We also have someone who struts. Then we have waddlers and the usual walkers, more or less adept.

I use to be very cool

I use to be very cool, until I realized how the ground beneath my feet was much harder then I had previously thought, now I tread cautiously.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

it was very painful and in memory it still is

Trying to turn a lunch hour into an interview which instead turned into a terrible display of babbling. Simple questions seem to come out of some deep unfamilar place...What does your company do, what do you do, my mind wistfully pondering her inquiries in a meandering way. Pondering but not answering, perhaps not even focusing. Just purusing here and there, these subjects like someone taking a liesureley walk in the garden, leaning over a bush to take note of its flowers. English, became a foreign language. Stringing together a coherent sentence becomes like searching for an endangered insect in a lush forest.

The coup d'etat: I managed to crash into one of the agents who had asked me out in the previous visits and who was now flirting with me again. It's times like these when I think I need a new me or at the very least an escape/eject button.

Thursday, June 05, 2008

Ms. Leaf

Eating my pizza beside the very tall building where I work, while appreciating a book, I notice a little leaf shaped bug making its way imperiously across the sentence I am reading.

Later when I take the subway, I pull out my book, and Ms. Leaf makes her way across the borders of the book, precariously hanging on the edges. Appalled by her audacity of having hid in my bag all this time, and about to shake her off my book, I become amused by her bright green shape and leaf color, and of course, her audacity, and I take pity. Instead at the end of the ride, I decide to free her outdoors but unfortunately, I must hurry to make my train. Rushing in the station, she gingerly walks around my hand. I brush her off in my bag and put the book there too. Upon removing the book, she crawls out again. I think to myself, she stayed all this time under my desk at work but she can't stay put for a second now as she seems to crawl endlessly till my 3rd attempt of brushing her off in the bag where she remained ominously hidden. Had she crawled off or flown away, I peak. Not in the pockets of the bag, nor my hands nor on my book. Would she remain on this air conditioned, tomb of a train to die a sad death, I worried while trying to read Stardust by Neil Gaiman.

As the train slows down to make my stop, she playfully crawls up my arm. So she has made it this far, I will free her by the trees outside, away from the station. Cupping my hand over her, I make my way and look at her. She looks back. I keep walking and instead decide to free her in my lush garden, if she will stay on till I make it back. I look at her when I walk, she looks at me and she waits for the garden. Opening my old wooden gate, I show my garden to her, which is now her garden too, and let her down on a little thorn bush I think she will like. Upon some prodding, she looks back at me one last time, and then satisfied walks off.

Friday, May 30, 2008

Most Terrifying Moment of the Day

Looking into a 10X mirror.

The mirror, a cruel looking glass, made my pores into ominous cesspools of bacteria and dirt, and there were other things, things i never noticed before, things i don't want to think about. There they are in my head. They are not going away. These thoughts that live there too now.

Of course the mirror was on sale. what type of person would buy a mirror which only creates self doubt and an uninhibited desire to spend an obscene amount on facial cleaning product? Only a small fringe of crazy people who are innately drawn to purchase sales items regardless of value, need, or function.

I am going to buy the mirror. This is war.

Preface to "My Muse"

Now, upon having received 2 comments from people believing that I describe in my previous post "my muse" a Hollywood “love/hate/love & live happily ever after scenario", I need to disillusion you.

We are not interested in a relationship, we just had, and perhaps he is still has, an unnatural and unhealthy propensity for putting ourselves/himself in Machiavellian situations. I can only recall a vague attraction for why we were drawn in as being a weakness, a predilection, for the power play that our situation had turned into.

I can’t speak for the young man (ha, over 15 years my senior), but please let me assure you I now have better ways to waste my time.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

My muse

I have decided to follow my muse. That is, I have decided not to think but to go by instinct. My past has been about over analysing which i fear are tendencies which may have held me back from opportunities. I hope honing in on my muse skills, I will make better more powerful decision.

Based on this idea, after having 2 dreams with a sort of ex, sort of friend, sort of soundboard, sort of lover, I sort of decided to give him a call. I just felt like I had to call him but I couldn't explain why. I could think of many, many, reason why I shouldn't. But since I was no longer following reason, but inner instinct, i called.

This is a person I had met in the Caribbean years ago, went out on a date, and then intentionally avoided him until he left the island. Having suddenly a change of mind, I decided to meet him the day he said he was leaving only to have missed him and crashed into another ex who happened to work in the tiny airport.

I then proceeded to hunt out his friends on the island and ask for his phone number, not judging the time difference, and ecstatic I had finally attained the number, I called him at 3am.

We eventually met up in LA, fought, and I was pushed into leaving. A year later, same scenario. LA, fight, only this time I was older, a little less crushed and a little more logical as I insisted that he pay the difference of my ticket.

Three strikes, but there was more. I somehow invited him to my island. For the life of me, I can't remember why. I think I had some vague notion that I wanted someone to vacation with. It didn't work, we fought, and I kicked him out right before a hurricane. But for good reasons, which even he eventually called to admit, though a few years late.

Occasionally we exchange emails. Very simple exchanges. We weren't looking to start over this painful process. I guess we just wanted to wave.

He recently felt inclined to respond to my im title "who dare knock on my door". Of course, he dares, he knocks. But I think he, mostly wanted to make me jealous that he was going to Mexico. He sends me the resort website. He asks me if I am coming. I "hahahaha" him. But upon his departure, in order to tease him, I change my title, to "I'm going to (resort name)". This probably was not ideal, as when he logged in his gmail, his girlfriend I didn't know about may have been hovering around.

In any case, I dreamed he lost his leg, he was surrounded by lots of dark skinned larger men. That he was very upset. (i mean in the dream he did lose a leg). I become anxious and think of calling him, but then think, he's in Mexico and you are here in NY working. Of course his legs are fine. So I don't call. then a few weeks later, I dreamed that he was a friend living in Santa Barbara (he recently moved to Santa Barbara from LA) and that he was driving me to see him, a lover in LA. Then I wonder in the dream how my friend will feel about this lover/ex and how they will get along. The dream hovered about me all day till finally i decided to exorcise it with a call to him.

The phone rings five times. (he has caller id)

My hand is on the hang up button and I sigh relief. See I tried.

He picks up.

"I wasn't going to pick up."

"I was going to hang up."

I go sit in my backyard to soak in the rest of the sun before it descends any further in the sky. I sort of mention the dreams and ask how his vacation went. It was a disaster he explains. The eco-resort was made up of a bunch of flimsy cottages on the sea with only slats and no real walls, privacy, or way to filter the sounds from neighboring cottages. The shower water was salty and cold, the accommodation were below expectations. He complained to the resort. The resort offered him credit to be used on their amenities.

Deciding to make the best of it, he uses some of the credit to book an afternoon massage, they encourage him to go for the night message instead, which he does. He describes the massage as being naked, and cold in front of the windy ocean in the middle of the night as a much larger woman (he has a thin frame) plops and smushes tepid mud onto him. I say, well it can't get worse. He assures me it does. He goes to the restaurant in order to burn more credit and fears he may have contacted food poisoning. They eventually leave the resort to go elsewhere but cannot figure out how to activate the a/c during the long hot ride which does nothing to alleviate his mood nor his health issues. Arriving at the hotel which has no close parking, they must haul up their bags down the streets, while he still feels ill.

Later Sitting at a busy cafe on one of the busiest streets in Mexico, he turns to his girlfriend and says "I think I am going to pass out". Which he promptly does. He comes to on the floor seeing the blue sky, and hearing his girl friend yelling call 911. He also realizes he has defecated on himself and must now get up and walk to the bathroom as all eyes stare in his direction. He proceeds to lock the bathroom door to clean his pants as people begin knocking on the door worried. They are insisting he open the door. "un momento por favor" he faints again. When he comes to there is feces all over, the smell is atrocious, and he only has a itty bitty napkin hiding his penis, he hears his girl friend say "oh my God" while covering her nose.

Well, the momentum and tone of the trip pursues him back to California where he suffers skin poisoning from bad henna ink contracted through a henna tatoo, and in trying to help a friend to the hospital is stopped by police for breaking the speed limit and threatened with jail. Which seems to horrify him more then everything that happened to him in Mexico, as he explains he seriously doubts he would be the biggest, baddest guy there.

Now i feel like I am suppose to tell him, well, that he may be perhaps bringing this bad luck upon himself by going out with people and giving them false hope that the relationship is blossoming into a commitment. His actions and behavior are unintentionally hurting those he dates. He is sort of like a drunk driver who does not mean to run people over, but ends up doing so. He is an irresponsible dater.

And yes, after all of this, he is thinking of dumping her, as he has done with all his previous girlfriends.

Now I ask my muse, why me, why must I explain what I suspect about his karma and his life lessons?

Friday, May 23, 2008


I am just going to live with this thorn.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Skin upon skin

Skin upon skin
A complex combination of smile and grin
Layer upon layer
Not one has a prayer
A kaleidoscope of people within me
A costume for each, you agree
I shield the birds eye view
My time spent with each of you so few
No one can claim me
for any price or fee
It was such a nice game
Until he called my name
Mephistopheles do you see
And like that I was free
But he turned to leave
It was His trick to deceive
Cut open once more
As only lions roar
Vulnerable and unbound
I was lost and then found
I had thought him so fair
But his tricks laid me bare
There I lingered too long
lost in the song
Captivated in his trap
I lose all bearing, mark and map
Here he reveals his price
My heart will not suffice

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

The matter is currently in litigation.

As island time obeys a different and much slower speed then most places in the world, and the French legal system is renown to be efficiently and ludicrously bureaucratic, he may decide to find a different road before he dies of natural causes.

May justice reign.

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

A Piece of Land - Part II

I was in the bathtub with a red candle flickering by my foot somewhere in the mist. The phone ringing somewhere behind the door. It's my mother. The bull dowzers have returned to my grandmothers property, they have knocked down a stone wall and are now shoveling so close to her little house it has become a health hazard. The family have once again called the lawyers who had initally instructed the family to stand down and not block the bulldowzers, so that they could prove the apposing party at fault , however, now, seeing how how much they have shoveled the lawyers apparently believe we have enough proof and have encouraged my family to take their own bulldowzer to block the entrance. It seems most of the bulldowzers on the island are reserved for construction or there owners are on vacation. My family plans to use their cars until a bulldowzer attained.

I have no heard news back since yesterday.

I have prayed a rosary. Is this how it's said? It feels like I am a very tiny thing knocking on a very large imposing door asking for help and not sure anyone can hear me.

Bryant Park 8:30 a.m.

It is finally a little sunny in NY. I woke up early so I could walk to work instead of being pushed and shoved on in the dark clammy E line subway. I walked to Bryant park picking up an onion bagel from a street vendor on the way and had breakfast on little european park tables tucked between the fountain and the Great Lawn. The sun in my face, the sound of water trinckling and tiny birds are playing in puddles created by the fountain. One little bird pops up on the chair opposite me, looking more baby chic, then bird, its down a hazy fluffy aurora instead of feathers. It is trying to charm my breakfast from me and has has succeeded. I throw a piece down and without thank you, as if expecting its due, it swoops grabs it and flies off. Leaving all the other tiny birds to look at me from the ground. I resolve to look ahead at the lawn and ignore their stares. Until another one comes on the same seat, i toss a crumb on the table top. It jumps up, and grabs it and leaves. As the other birds remain on the ground to watch me I wonder what makes some bird dare to perch on the seat accross me. Is it hunger, courage, greed, a mixture of the three? I am sure I understand the first bird, he was relying on his fluff factor.

Monday, April 28, 2008

WARNING: Fake blogger Kazilar sending viruses

Warning: I just received a comment on my blog from blogger going by the name Kazilar. Apparently he is not too bright because his message just says "click hear". Which of course I found suspicious so decided to google his name instead and right click to see the properties of the hyper link he had listed. Please send the warning out to everyone you know.

Here is a link I found with someone who had a message from the same user:

It seems that some people have such pathetic lives they anonymously strike out at random victims.

A piece of land

It’s a normal morning. It is raining in NY. My alarm, crickets sing, I hit snooze. It is grey. I snuggle with my pillow under my covers, my little cave. I wonder at how much more precious my time in bed seems to me when I have so little of it left to savor. I am sure the covers never felt so nice in the weekend when I can linger at my leisure. The morning blur of electric toothbrush, makeup, lotion, shower, getting dressed finding my bag, my keys, running to catch the train, and finally finding my way to my desk.

My mother calls from St. Barth, there is a bulldozers tearing up the acacia native trees on my island. Trees that have taken an eternity to grow in those desert conditions and battered by sea salt and wind in the valley of Grand Fond. Trees that we have made of point of keeping to preserve the islands identity and to help the wild life that depends on its thorny branches to hide nests in. My mother tells me she stood in front of the shovel forbidding it to advance and she threw stones at it. The family gathers around the workers to protest the thoughtless onslaught on the property that lays beside my grandmothers house. Ligne de St.Barth, the ruthless and soulless owner of a company who makes lotions of what he claims are natural ingredients on the island, has decided to build another factory, storage or building. My uncle follows him and berates him for taking land from people who trusted him while leaving them with nothing. My aunt calls the lawyers to see if they can put a legal halt to his desecration. My grandmother, I imagine must be sitting somewhere trying to make sense of the commotion.

I am so far from my little island. One of the few places left on earth that still feels a little natural. My home. The land my ancestors refused to sell even as they had no money to eat so that they could one day pass it to the next generation. It is brutal to see how this same land is being taken over so thoughtlessly by foreigners who throw money around and who fail to respect the nature, but even more malevolent is to witness the gold diggers who drill at the islands surface, carving her rocks to spit what they hope will bring more money in their pockets.

I once heard a horrible story about an island called Nauru, that lost her soul. I wish I could stand on the tallest hill of my island and tell her story. Tell them to remember Nauru.
*Nauru is an island that was once nicknamed Pleasant Island for her natural beauty but has since has suffered her entire interior land to have been carved for the mining of phosphorus. Where the island was once a tropical jungle full of birds, crickets and animals, it is now a white pit leaving the inhabitants to ponder their actions on the edges of the island. They now worry that rising sea levels due to global warning will erradicate what slim outline of land they have left.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Codeine Smile

If it were possible to remove all painful moments as simple as deleting unwanted files from a computer would we be happier, more adventurous, more loving people. Would we be slightly niave, slightly stupid commiting the same error multiple times never to gain insight into our failure. Would a smile be worth less if it's filled with codeine and laced with ignorance?

Who am I

I mimic you and dress like you. I don't think i fool you. You are a foreign culture and i am a small bird from another land posing as one of yours so that I can live amoungst you. But at times, regardless of all your effort I am unsure who you are and what you want from me. I attempt to assume a competent comprehending gaze in your direction but wonder if you see through it. I hope by not saying too much or too little, or being too fidgety or too stiff to avoid your curiosity and eventually your analysis and your judgement of who it is I am. But I wonder as your gaze recedes what do you think of me?

As I sleep

Spring, Summer, Winter, Fall,
My heart has experienced them all
do i dare repeat the sequence once more
should i risk a heart so sore
do i shrink away and hide
should i chance another ride
do i turn away and leave
how much more can one grieve
do i leave my heart behind
should anyone be apt to find
an object as obscure
as if to lure
a love so deep
As I sleep

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Eclipse February 20 2008

February 20, 2008. The moon stood momentarily in the earths shadow making her a petulant rusty orange. Sitting with my head leaning on the window, my phone pressed to my ear speaking to my mother temporarily stationed in st. Martin and my broken glasses missing one arm laying slightly crooked on my face, I hailed the new red moon like one might hail a new era years ago when these oddities might be declared an omen. Behold the red moon, good news awaits us.

I did not know what awaited me. I did not think that much about it except to think how lucky I was to witness such an event in such a clear sky. Our next full lunar eclipse only appearing in 2010 and who knows what weather we will have.
The next day, feeling slightly blessed and slightly fuzzy by this great big red moon I settled down behind my desk at work. When i was called by my boss into his office I wondered at the possibility of what this even would mean. The post moon happy feeling being eclipsed by a remote but growing sense of anxiety. In his voice I could tell he meant to discuss something as he didn't sound his usually distracted self. I thought of my line of defense. Reasons I had not completed all I had. etc. The list was growing fervently in my mind. Tiny mice working tiny type writers listing my deeds. No lawyer in sight.

I sit and decide to enact a calm demeanor. He is telling me only good things about my performance. I brace myself. I know, good first, then the jab. I am waiting for the jab, I tell myself not to flinch. I hold my head up high. I know i will see this through. He discusses my raise and my bonus. I am surprised. I didn't think I would receive one. I consider showing my surprise or should i enact mild thankfulness withholding surprise to temper his consideration of whether this bonus and raise was perhaps, too considerate.

But i am happy. I am delighted. I send my love to the red moon who blessed me.

Friday, February 15, 2008


Ooops I kind of missed V-day in that I was solo and happy for once about it. This time it came as sort of a relief considering that I have a red-heart, hand-holding, eye-gazing allergy. I am simply not a fan of dramatic emotions and gifts I don’t especially like but are expected to gush over while worrying about how i am going to avoid using/wearing/keeping them. Exclaiming "you shouldn't have" while wondering will it break, perhaps I can say it was stolen, or maybe lost.

There is also the fact that I am a creature of comfort and I don’t like getting dressed up and all the fuss of being into it. I don’t like maintaining conversations and listening. I don’t like sharing my bed, bedroom, or bathroom. I would rather sit in a café and fall into a good book. I want to go when I feel like, and leave when I want, and not have to think of calling or explaining. I don’t like demands, expectations, compromising and that is invariably what relationships are about. I would rather write. I would rather explore. I would rather google. Relationships are great but I have to have lots of room. I like to feel air. I like quiet. Yet being in one can be interesting at times because I have learned tons about myself I don’t think I would have learned otherwise…its just…I kind of like being solo. I wonder if this is selfish or wrong. I mean why can’t I be like everyone else and want the same things? Not that being unusual is wrong, but maybe isn’t it?

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Adieu, good bye

You wish the best for me
But the room is now cold
You did not mean to hurt me
Yet I sit in the dark room
You tell me it will be ok
To stop my tears from falling
You kiss me on the head
Wishing me goodbye
You tell me it’s not my fault
Then you walk to the door
You look back before you leave

I only have the footprints
You left in the snow
I think about putting my feet in them
To see how they would feel
I did not think I would keep using them
But yet here I am at your door
I offer you my heart to keep
Because I won’t use it anymore

Thursday, February 07, 2008

A Wave

I was innocently wasting my time looking at funny cat videos on U-tube when I happen to come across music from the Swingle sisters - harpsichord concerto #2 largo JS Bach. It was such a powerful and mellow piece that accompanied a little kitten trying to sleep that I immediately had to find it, which I did, and which I downloaded to keep in my treasure chest of music. The music picked me up like a wave carrying me off in a floating sort of lazy jellyfish way. Then as I was playing it, and floating, before I realized what I was doing, I forwarded it to a friend I had stopped speaking to after a petty argument ...but perhaps had stopped communications for other reasons that the argument which may just have been a culminating point in our fading friendship. This argument, I fear, as is usually the case with most arguments, may have served as a focal point to a larger agenda of things we feel we can no longer accept from someone. But there it is and my email has irreparably been sent.

I drew this wave as therapeutic relief.

Friday, February 01, 2008

Blackie sits and waits

Thursday, January 31, 2008


Sunday, January 27, 2008

No Patience

I have no patience. I am like a 3 year old child. I just started looking for a new position and already I am so impatient about my situation I want to give up. I went to the interview this week and they seem to like me. They said they would call me for a second interview. But still, there it is, this gut wrenching feeling that there will never be another job and that I will be forever stuck where I am. Which is simply not not not possible. However, If i am to be reasonable about it there is really no logical reason for me to feel this way as I was contacted by another head hunter Friday for a possible interview, and yet I can't rid myself of this loathsome heavy cloak that's dragging me down. It's not even a feeling its more of an infection. Spreading through me from my body, to my head, to my heart, causing me to be morose, sullen and aggressive. Even my legs refuse my direction and sit planted firmly to the ground like roots. I am torn between allowing myself to wallow and wanting to yell. Possibly Scream at the top of my lungs. I consider throwing a 3 minute tantrum full of punching my mattress and hot tears. Will that work? Oh no, I think , I am 3 years old. How can this be? And will they still hire me?

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Time to find a new job

I am searching for a new job in the thick of NY winter. I have decided to adamantly refuse to interview for positions which refuse to quote a salary or who quote a salary below my requirements.

I have refused to see job agents that don't have an office in the city or a real website. If I can't take them seriously, I doubt the larger companies I would like to work for know they exist or care.

I will do my best to win over my interviewer and make them like me in a professional way. I accidentally was working on the "like me" tactic when a head hunter asked me on a date....too much "like me", I make a note to tone it down.

Smile, people want to hire happy people, who wants to hire someone morose. I have time to be grouchy later.

I will practice the I am so great at "blah blah" list before I enter the interview. Everyone needs marketing.

I will look into the eyes of my interviewer and I will look sincere. I good storyteller believes his tales.

I will make a point of remembering names. Yes I remember your name because you are important to me and so is this position, so why don't you give it to me?

ok.....I am so ready, I think.

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