little fruit(s) in the big apple

I am laying on my uncomfortable, half-deflated air bed, trying to adjust to the fact that I have spent my past week in my first apartment. In Brooklyn. In a house full of black dykes. Seriously, what is my life?

I have had a lot of feelings this past week, the biggest one being exhaustion. I am just so tired all the time. I have mostly been running around, applying for jobs, trying to familiarize myself with the trains, spending money. There is never a time to rest here, never anytime to just lay around in the grass and breathe, read a book, drink a beer, breathe. I am really in love with our fire escape for this reason. It is the only place "in" the house where one can relax by themselves and enjoy the weather. Although, it is usually just as noisy out there as the rest of NY. There are so many sounds here.

Living in NY makes me feel like I've never lived in a city before. Which is strange because I am from the city. There is nothing that makes me happier than coming home from Amherst, and watching the Boston skyline peek into view from around the Charles. Being downtown always puts a smile on my face. But Boston isn't NY. Boston is do-able. You can you can be a city person and still have a soul in Boston. It feels like in NY, people are constantly moving so fast that sometimes they forget they are human. Especially when crossing the street. It's like all NYers think they're superman or something. There have already been two times where I could have gotten run over because I decided to follow the NYers lead. Here, it's every man for himself.

Manhattan. Oh, boy. You are one money-sucking monster. DId you know there are no benches down 6th Ave? I walked from W23rd to W14th and saw not one bench. There was even a little raised area with flowers and plants, and it was surrounded by a spiky metal railing to ensure that nobody could sit down on it. I saw a lot of overpriced stores, though. And I definitely saw a lot of cafes that would put Starbucks to shame. And here I was, thinking SB was pretty classy. I hate having to be there for long, and I still haven't even done the whole touristy thing yet. Although I would eventually like to see what the big fuss about Central Park is.

My internship is in Manhattan. I haven't really done much yet. In fact I'm usually very bored, but it's only been two days and I know that it will pick up. The people at the theater seem awesome. The interns seem... more on that later, maybe? I haven't met them all, to be fair. I still need a job. I'm spending way too much money to not have a job yet. And the phone bill is coming up. And my weekly METRO is about done. And there's a party tonight. Gulp.

Maybe there's some love in my future? Some humorous encounters, some bigger than life adventures? Wait, who are we kidding! It's ME we're talking about. More complaints about money and life in the thee-yuh-tuh soon.

mammy blues

i found this in a journal and wanted to save it before i threw the journal away. i think this was over when i got my mammy statue and started going crazy. go figure.

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mammy mammy mammy mamma love you mamma mamie ma'am where's yr mama, where'd she go? are you my mother? mother mommy i'm a virgin mother mammy my mama hates her mama hates her mama mama hates me hates mammy within me mammy die mammy die mammy die die die die die.

now i feel betrayed mama where'd you go mama I love you so mama i can't be alone mama mammy don't leave me mammy don't leave me don't leave me don't leave me don't leave.

sleep mammy, sleep.
sleep; perchance to dream.

notes on kissing, part 2

VI.

sometimes in your sleep things that you don't even realize you were thinking of come back to haunt you. in the past week i have kissed at least three people in my dreams, and every night i wake up feeling guilty.

the first person was on a bus. they were introduced to me once, as a crush of a friend. i kept telling them no, what would our friend think, and not to stand up when a bus is in motion. they told me they didnt care and pulled at my bottom lip with their teeth. i woke up licking my lips.

i kissed the second one, a personal friend, in a dark room. it looked a lot like my grandmother's bedroom, except it didn't reek of mothballs and dying. i told them happy birthday. they told me everyone else forgot except for me. as i walked out of the room, they pulled me close to them and kissed me one, two, three times. i woke up satisfied.

i went to bed the third time dreaming of that second kiss and hoping for a repeat. instead, i kissed a grrl i barely know. her best friend was in the room- i think we were all in a museum. definitely the most disappointing. i woke up laughing.

i guess its pretty obvious what my body is telling me. always stay seated in a moving vehicle, don't ever forget your friend's birthdays, and avoid museums at all costs.

we wear the mask

Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906)
We Wear the Mask

WE wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!


"identity and race is often a performance." monday june 4, 2009 11:22AM