Picture the scene: There I am at the flower shop, stationed in front of those big, backlit refrigerators, grasping for the necks of birds of paradise, and then: “That one that looks like velvety lettuce! And the spiky purple ones! And oh, oh, those little orange bursts!”
“You mean these ones?”
The teenager flings a manicured hand in front of different buckets.
“These or these? You sure you want these? They smell like onions.”
(Oh, I do.)
We don’t use a single proper name as I move toward the blooms that please my eye and point. It doesn’t matter what…
Before my best friend the singer steps on stage for a weekly music residency across the world, her “Fearless” music video is projected on a jumbo screen. As I star in the video as an art nerd (clearly a massive fiction, don’t know how she came up with that one…), every week, I too, become larger than life for the length of the song.
I love this anecdote as a metaphor for generosity, which is different from simply taking up space — rather, generosity is a way to be expansive, saturated with the energy of genuine offerings, the kind that…
How did you weather it? Friends asked, checking in on one another, as we do, post-Ida.
My story in response was, thankfully, a very sweet one to tell in the grand scheme of climate change grief. While the trees outside my bedroom window tossed themselves back and forth as if made of paper, I had spent the blue hours of Wednesday into Thursday waking on the hour to check in with The Jazz, who was stuck overnight for ten hours on a parked Amtrak just an hour outside the city.
At 8am, I wiped the sleep from my eyes and…
Magically, almost mystically, I’ve been locked out of my social media accounts for the past few months. What I timed as a little break became a permanent situation thanks to a new phone (lesson learned, transfer the authentication app), and boom: my Instagram is dust. Twitter proclaims, thanks to my last pinned Tweet, that I’ve “gone fishing” into eternity.
While life feels lighter without the lull of endless scrolling, I knew I was itching to share again when I started to collect little New York scenes in my notes app. And so here we are.
Quittin’ Time Anthem
Unhook my bra as soon as the door slams,
close the day and sit still.
Ice chips rattle the cup, I suck cool
until I am blue in the lips.
Come inside and see for yourself,
the walls are painted
magenta inside my office
for the disturbed. It is loud in here.
My uterus is shedding, my ache so tender
and I don’t care what man hears me say it.
Every bell is ringing at once. Friend,
roll me something to bring out the stars, a sea
of honey for my legs to drag through,
so, so slow…