Wednesday, May 6, 2009


Today is Wednesday. The sun came out which was nice. I thought about Meg alot today- maybe this is because my boyfriend left me and I want someone to talk to who gets my insides. Or maybe because it felt like summer and I really wanted to drive around and eat sandwiches and be in Amherst.

But I was in New York, which was actually wonderfully great.

Sometimes I think New York hates me and wants me to live in a shithole, freeze my ass off, work for stupid people and get old and wrinkled faster. On days when it's raining and cabs spit on my calves, days when no one calls and I feel like everyone is wrapped up in their own mini city, days when somehow I've spent 60 dollars on seemingly nothing except 10 dollar packs of cigarettes, days when eveything smells and everyone seems sad. Days that would make anyone want to move to Kansas and cook hot dogs all day.

And then sometimes New York kisses me on my head and reminds me everything's going to be alright. It wraps its arms around my waist and asks me if I need anything, lies in my backyard and smokes cigarettes with me while drinking white wine and telling me there is nothing to fear but fear itself. It lets me know I'm special and that I'm going to figure everything out and that I am truly truly loved. New York buys me a drink and lets my train come just as I've stepped into the station, tells all the assholes to go fuck themselves. It plays me music and holds my hand and talks to me about grand adventures and future projects. It reminds me that everything is a construct and to grind my feet a little harder into it's pavement. New York stays up all night with me and screams loudly at me to engage with my work, to love deeply and absurdly, and to always stay the course.

Anyway. Meta.

My boyfriend's body haunts me. Most nights I wake up in the dead of sleep and expect his chest to be sidled next to mine, hand firmly placed in the small of my back. It's not. I turn over some more. Look out the window. Pet my cat.

So today, as on all other days for the past couple weeks, I try to get my body to develop new rhythms. It's not about my mind. My brain is too vast to focus on now- my body is manageable. sleep by myself, walk with your hands in your pockets to places you usually wouldn't go, stand up straight, legs together- no warm, wet anything.
stark, strong, bold, alone.

Alone I was as I walked into Zach Feuer in Chelsea this afternoon. Momus was wearing a ninja suit, beaming a clip light at a small woman named Aki Sasamoto. His voice is hypnotic as ever, even when he's not singing. He says all sorts of things to her, one anecdote about how he's convinced she contorts her face in her sleep especially for him because, subconsciously, she can feel his body and his eyes on hers and knows which expressions he thinks are beautiful. He also goes into the voice of an art critic while she rambles nonsense like a kindergardner, and recites songs by the Police while she flings potatoes attached to bungee cords against a collapsable wall.

Very romantic.
I adored it.


2 comments:

waldorf salad said...

i love this post. hang in there gabs.

Gab said...

aw, thank you!! can't wait for you to be in new york :)