WIP: Our Lives After the Fall

When my sister was 21, she got too drunk on a wine tour, tripped over her untied shoe-lace, hit her head on a rock and died. Actually, we all died- Luisa, Mami, Papi, and me. Since her accident, none of us have really lived.

I was 14 and without Luisa to fuss over, Mami focused all of her attention on me.

Where are you going? Who will be there? What time will you be finished? You know what, forget it I will take you and wait outside to bring you home.

It became much easier to, at first just not go anywhere, and later, to be the house where everyone came to after school, and then to become the girl who never went outside anymore. It's a slow progression but it feels fast. Like you just woke up one day afraid to leave your room, but really it happened in tiny increments.
〰〰〰〰〰〰〰 

*I've been reviewing my old works-in-progress to see if something jumps out at me or grabs my attention. Often, while traveling, I'd see a spot in the landscape that triggered a scene in  my head, and then the opening of a story soon follows. I think this one came to me while on a trip through the Central Coast of California; we were trying to get to Big Sur, but, alas, wildfires. We had to turn back. This is a piece I found on my phone in the Notes app. It might could still be something one day if I get bored enough:

Love & Balls,
Jaded
-----
but things just get so crazy
living life gets hard to do
and I would gladly hit the road, get up and go, if I knew
that someday it would lead me back to you

RANDOM: The Truth About Post-Dating My Blog

That truth being that I do it, I write this crazy late and then change the date so it appears to have been written 'on time'. This particular post you're reading right now was in fact written today before the time I want it to go live, but the one for Monday, April 7? I'm writing it after I schedule this one. I don't even care. It's how I'm running things over here. Now you know.

That said, Bad Bunny did a great job at his Tiny Desk performance and I just want to make sure you all saw it.

But also, here's my favorite video from this latest album:

I love this song because, well, it's beautiful and melancholy, but also, it reminded me of this poem I wrote once:

How do you not run out of new things to say?  

I fell in love with someone who was on vacation 

He was observing fake routines— Breakfast-gym-coffee-tours 

That I’d mistaken for his true self. 

He’d sit at the bar reading classic Poe 

And presidential biographies, and I 

Confused posing with intellect 

He sipped red wine quietly 

Ate steak neatly 

Smiled at toddlers in the hotel lobby; bent 

To pet dogs on his afternoon walks 

And I took his actions for truth, when really, 

He was playing a part. 

He was playing at: Leisure Man TM 

Who: doesn’t check his bank account before splurging 

Is meticulously coiffed + dressed on a Tuesday 

Appreciates the finer things 

Likes himself 

I fell in love with someone who was hiding from another life. 

He pretended to listen and care and know 

What it meant to love and be loved 

He began sentences with, “Perhaps a better way 

To look at it…” to mask half-cooked theories and advocacies 

For a devil that never asked for his help 

He retired every night at 10pm, ‘to catch the evening news’ 

And never asked for too much— 

I confused him with a proper gentleman 

From another era 

But, in fact, I fell in love with a man who’d 

Taken a break from reality 

And here we sit. 

Not knowing what’s true. 

Except—this is the bed that we made, 

And we lie in it every night.

You're welcome.

Love & Balls,
Jaded
-----
en mi vida fuistes turista
tú solo vistes lo mejor de mí
y no lo que yo sufría
te fuiste sin saber el porqué

WIP: All We Are Is Wasted Hours (A Housekeeping Poem)

we were a tangle of limbs the 

morning you left 

echoes of screeching tires outside 

along the parkway 

and last night’s platanos still on the table, forgotten. like us. 

you stole a kiss from me as I stared at the sword above your desk 

“What are you thinking about?” you mumbled, 

“Montauk,” I whispered. “The waves at Ditch Plains. 

And that shopping spree at the 99-cent store in Miami. Remember?” 

you planted another kiss on my face to hide 

your lapse in memory. 

still, I found a temporary comfort in the curve of your neck, and the lingering scent of your cologne 

in my sheets and my hair and my skin. 

we were a beautiful mess that morning: me the girl from Brooklyn with too many memories and you the

boy from nowhere with nothing,

both waiting to be tidied up.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

*I've been reviewing my old works-in-progress to see if something jumps out at me or grabs my attention. And I know, posting it here makes it ineligible to be posted elsewhere but listen, there's a good chance I won't follow through on this so might as well give these pieces their 15 minutes of fame while I can.

Love & Balls,

Jaded

-----

hello again, friend of a friend, i knew you when

our common goal was waiting for the world to end

now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend

you crack the whip, shapeshift and trick the past again

Writing Prompt, 2.26.25

I've been contemplating resuming my now-defunct writing career. I mentioned this, right? Right. I mean, just look at my phone's home screen; it's been trying to drag me out of this funk for half a decade now, poor thing. Anyways, a few of the books I've read have reminded me about the joy writing used to bring; they've lit the tiniest of fires. I may have written a small synopsis or two. But so far I remain way too clogged with depression and anxiety and a general abundance of ennui. 

So let's try a little experiment; play along. Long ago and far away, when I was known (on here) as THE Master of Fine Arts, friends and followers would tell me, "I don't know what to write about," and ask me for writing prompts. I still have a lot of them saved on my trusty red thumb drive. Maybe it will shake some of you up?

You wake up here, in Cuba. You feel groggy and sluggish, and don't remember how you got here. The last thing you recall is leaving your loft in Philadelphia to meet your cousin for dinner. Everything after locking your door is gone. What now?

Feel free to leave your response in the comments, or email me, if you'd like, but it's not mandatory. As long as this prompt gets you writing and thinking creatively, that's all that matters!

Love & Balls,

Jaded

-----

una foto bonita 

un atardecer hermoso

una bailaíta' 

tu cadenita de oro

The Things We Need

"I say, fuck you Jobu..."

 As a sports fan, it tickles me to know about athletes' good luck charms- the items they believe will help them win games. Things like a crucifix, a certain piece of equipment, or even a pair of lucky underwear. It's funny that these men and women, who have practiced until their bodies are beyond hurt, think a sock will make all the difference. Forget skills, precision, expertise. We've got SOCKS!

What's even funnier is realizing that I, too, have my little trinkets that helped me write, travel, and just get through the day in general, and without them everything feels wrong and out of place. My grandmother's ring; a novelty pencil from Jamaica that I dubbed Barrington Mon; a bullet on a chain given to me by a sweet Vietnamese suitor back in high school; my thumb drive, filled with everything I've ever even thought about writing. These are the things I need.

If I dare get on a train, plane, or automobile and am not wearing or carrying Grandma's ring, or my thumb drive, I freak out inside. When I used to perform at readings, I needed that bullet necklace in my pocket. When I would sit at the computer trying to conjure up a story and Barrington Mon was not nearby, I couldn't focus on what I was trying to write.

Of course it's silly to depend on them. After all, I have all this talent, I had all those stories that wanted and needed to be told. The lack of a pencil or a piece of jewelry should not have stood in the way of that. But it did. On the flip side, maybe there's truth to trinkets and totems holding a certain energy that can help, protect, and comfort, and then transfers that energy to us. 

You know, my grandmother didn't get to travel (NJ doesn't count). As far as I know, she came to Brooklyn and stayed put, with just a few tiny trips to Lawrence, Massachusettes; Buffalo, NY; Virginia Beach; and maybe she went a cruise to Alaska? Am I making that up? I think I am... Anyways, that was the extent of it. But with me, through that ring, and in my heart, she's been across the Atlantic, across the country, and even parasailing in Key West. I need Grandma's ring with me everywhere because she's not here in body. (The thumb drive coming with me is just a panic response to having countless computers crash on me, taking with them countless raw documents I'll never get back. It's my emotional support thumb drive.)

And every desk I've ever had since 2005 has featured Barrington Mon; he was gifted to me by a kind, gentle soul I met during my MFA residency, who always had wise observations and a beautiful way of speaking and writing. This pencil reminds me to be easy and trust the light within (advice given to me by said friend), even though I abandoned my craft in 2020. 

The bullet necklace? Well, I mean it's a bullet necklace. Like an actual bullet. It's cool as fuck and I will always cherish it and remember that kid from high school who took it from around his neck and gave it to me when I complimented it. I don't really know it's history, and I've given it at least three backstories from my imagination, but I do know that when I wear it, my confidence level is through the roof.

Does this sound crazy? Do you have your own little false idols? Or is it just this recovering Catholic + a bunch of MLB players? Either way, it's what I need.

Love & Balls,
Jaded

-----

hey, please excuse the mess

see I just wanna feel

i mean really really feel

it all, it all

so give me something...

When the Party's Over

Art Deco Grandeur

In 2009 or so, I was sent out by a staffing agency to temp at Central Library in Brooklyn, and I was thrilled because, I mean, books. I grew up with the library system as my babysitter (shout out to the DeKalb, Marcy, and Bushwick branches!) and now I'd get to go behind the curtain, so to speak, and work there.

About a year into my assignment, the boss offered me a permanent position on the marketing team and I played it cool ("let me think about it over the weekend") but really, I was living the dream. It was shit money but the hours were good, the people were nice, the benefits were stellar, and the organization as a whole was beyond reproach. I could sleep well at night knowing I worked for/with the good guys.

Then the cracks started to show: the head honcho wasn't a former librarian when historically they were (I think it was a must but they changed the rules for her); said head honcho decided she didn't like my boss NOR the head of the design team, so more often than not, she poo-pooed everything we were trying to do; a new guy came in, from the DoT, and decided to bring along a crony from the DoT, and oust my boss; that crony, who did not have the marketing experience or gravitas that my former boss had, brought in a third crony, so that cronies 1 and 2 were now both being paid crazy amounts to split the job my boss was doing by himself (and then they also brought in a third person to deal with press, which is something my former boss did, too). So are you keeping score? Three mediocre white people doing the job of one talented Black man, all because the Head White Lady didn't like the cut of his jib.

Ephemera

It all started to go downhill from there, for me at least, and definitely in the area of morale.

I personally dealt with so many microaggressions, and was passed up for a promotion because I supposedly didn't have the experience and I was, quote, "unapproachable." So they hired someone with no marketing experience which made all the sense, right? And then proceeded to groom her for any and every salary increase and promotion they could think of. Not me, though, because I was unapproachable and didn't hang out with people after the workday or celebrate my birthday in the office or participate in something called Lunch Crew where they expected me to allow and trust white women with cats to make me a tasty and pet-hair-free meal. I didn't care for any of it, I was vocal about all of it, "I haven't seen your kitchen, so no, thank you," and it made me "not a team player.

Celebrating Z outside the office!

Still, I showed up, did my job, got my check, because that's how I came up. I don't go to work to make friends and kiki and party and bullshit, I'm there to do a job. And I will be cordial and might even smile here and there and contribute my fair share to the workload but that's all. Being friends is not in the job description, and frankly none of these people were folks I'd be friends with outside the office (minus one, HEY Z!)

The final straw came in the fall of 2022.

I was making plans to visit my daughter in Italy; she was going to study abroad so I was going to do 10 days in Milan, and then a week in Rome with a weekend in Athens, Greece. To make it work, I figured, I could do a full remote work time (the library had started going hybrid by then) so as not to use up all my time. I only did two days in the office anyway, what could it hurt? Well, request denied, even though I know they'd done similar deals with other non-brown workers, and I was pissed but whatever. THEN I was informed that the worst kept secret in the marketing department was that my direct supervisor was resigning, she wanted the other copywriter to be her successor, and they had all met about it without me. 

Well, listen. I'd signed on as a contractor with a corporate giant during this time as a side gig, making roughly $1K a day, so I thought about it and decided, before they even approach me with a bullshit explanation as to why I wasn't considered (and probably threw a tiny disrespectful raise at me) I was going to finally grant their collective wish and leave. Fuck that whole marketing department full of transplants (EXCEPT Z & Fritzi!) with a bag full of rusty tire irons. The whole lot. I can't think of a more toxic place for this Black Latina to work, except maybe the current White House administration.

A BK Winter Wonderland

Things I miss: working for an institution that focuses on access for all; the steady, non-freelance paycheck, the benefits, Z. THE VIEW OF PROSPECT PARK FROM THE OFFICE. What I don't miss, everything else. 

I don't look back and think, "I wish I still worked there," even as freelance work is beginning to dry up. I look back and think, "The stories I could tell you about this place..." Because you just gotta know when to walk away from shit that no longer serves you. Honestly, I should have left sooner, but I let fear be my guide.

Don't let fear keep you where you're not wanted or appreciated. No matter how green the grass on that side is.

Love & Balls,
Jaded
-----
I hate people that feel entitled
look at me crazy 'cause I ain't invite you
oh, you important?
you the moral to the story, you endorsing?
motherfucker, I don't even like you

The Jaded NYer: The Reboot

Hi. Remember when I used to blog regularly, and on the days I'd take a break, I'd come back with a song? I figured that, since I've decided to revive the blog, I'd ease you back in with a little tune.

Wasn't that fun? Great, let's move on.

Why reboot the Jaded Blog? Well. A lot of factors led to this decision.

1. I have been RUDDERLESS since Papi died. Just walking around this world like a chicken without a head. This is a strange world for me- first I lose Grandma and just when I've made peace with it, Papi leaves. The one man in my life who loved me unconditionally. It's a lot for a girl to lose her dad.

2. I lost focus on my WHY. I became so entangled in trying to run La Pluma y La Tinta, trying to host events that would garner likes on the interwebs, bigging up others only to get nothing in return. It depleted me.

3. I quit my library job after it became ABUNDANTLY CLEAR that they didn't value me or my skills, and my whole department, minus one or two people, became overrun with people NOT from NY, telling NYers what types of events/books/art they should like. And finding a new job, one that will pay me what I'm worth but also feels like I'm positively contributing to the good in this world has been... not great.

4. My daughter had a major health crisis, the world shut down, my mom got sick, and my sister had twins, and I realized, fuck everything else, family is what I need to focus on.

5. I'm living in a world that, basically, hates me and everyone who looks like me or is where I'm from, and the anxiety and depression that comes with that has forced me to seek some sort of anchor, and I think I'm realizing that anchor is language, literature, the written word.

So I guess, for now, I'm un-retired. 

Listen, if Stephen King can do it, so can I.

Happy Black History & Dominican Heritage Month.

Love & Balls,
Jaded

-----

does anyone remember
what it felt like to laugh all night
and sleep in late
not worry about anyone or anything?

well, I don't, I don't, I don't

In Case You're Looking For Me

A lot of you forget to check my site for appearances, and then pull the whole "you had a reading?" schpiel after the fact. Well here's a gentle reminder that I'm actively booking events where I host and/or read, and you need to be in the audience cheering me on.

How can you say no to that face?

That is all.

*smooches...gearing up for a busy season*
----------
it's about to be LOCO!

"Another Door Closes"

One of the hardest life lessons, for me, is accepting that things come to an end: relationships, lives, TV shows, and even access to your favorite Buffalo wing joint. A huge part of me wants to shrink into myself and wallow in it. Cry. Curse. Hide.

I've had to learn that my hesitation to accept these ends is just fear of the unknown. How will I go on if I can't run off to my grandma, sit at her feet, and lay my head on her lap? Or if I can't watch Tessa and Ryan find true love on "Suburgatory"?

I mean, I did stay in a dead-end marriage because I was afraid to tackle this life by myself, but look at me, coming up on eight years as head of household, rocking the hell out of this shit. I'm teaching myself that's OK to feel sad and still leave the house, face the day, have a good time with friends, and enjoy the air that I breathe. It doesn't mean I don't feel what I feel.

Every end and change is going to hurt--it's going to hurt deep--and I will want to cry, curse, and hide, but it will not kill me if I don't let it.



Every day I will make a conscious effort to keep going. Not dwell. Move forward. I'm like a shark in this world, and if I stop I know I will truly die. And frankly that's an end I'm not trying to see any time soon (or ever!).

In the meantime, I'll just find peace in the sweet breeze from an open window.

*smooches...practicing my yogic breaths*
----------
"we're here for a good time, not a long time."

In Case Your Monday's Been Shitty

Feast your eyes on all this beauty:

L to r: Authors Blu Daniels, Rebeca Lucret, Theresa Varela,
Alicia Anabel Santos, and Raquel Penzo. (c) 2014 David Stewart

These smart, talented, GORGEOUS women participated in my Lit Crawl Brooklyn event, "When Brooklyn Was Brooklyn," and will be featured in the book next year. If you missed it you MISSED it, because it was one helluva show.

But at least I'm being kind enough to allow you to gawk at us. You're welcome.

*smooches...busy being a proud "momma"*
----------
for every four "eh" events there's one awesome, and that one makes all the others worth it!

Hello, Weekend.

I've been waiting for you FOREVER. The stress of life is trying to kill me. Come, let me nestle in your bosom...



*smooches...hoping Monday takes its time as well*
----------
hope y'all have a good one, too!

If You Don't Mind...

i'm gonna bathe in this love you've left behind by the bed
i'm gonna use it to rinse my hair; maybe soak my tired feet
maybe soak my tired soul

i'm gonna carry it in a Tupperware in my purse
feast on it on my lunch break; maybe add some pepper
to taste

i'm gonna sit it next to me on the sofa and watch
our favorite movie with it; i'll pop some popcorn and we'll
eat and laugh and

if you don't mind

i'm not going to tell anyone i still love you

*smooches...offering this contribution to Throwback Thursdays*
----------
I don't even remember for whom I wrote this. I must not miss him anymore, whomever he was.

You're Invited.

Really hope you can make it!

*smooches...keeping busy*
----------
if I stop, I die.

I Fill This Void

with food.

So much food that it rises up into my esophagus
Teetering at the back of my throat
Threatening to spill out of my mouth

I fill that void
with sex.

Anonymous, no strings, fake names sex
Leaving in the dawn in a cab sex
Never call me again ever sex

I fill this void
with whiskey.

Shots lined up at the bar like chorus girls
Kicking their way down
Jazz hands scratching at my liver

I fill that void
with danger.

3AM alone on the platform
Taunting with my indifference, my apathy
Daring someone to come at me

I fill this void

with you.

*smooches...digging in the crates for Thursday*
----------
this bad poem totally describes my 30s. totally!

My Favorite "Meet Cute"

I won't say what online dating site we met on because that's a part of my life I'd rather not relive, but we "met" on an online dating site. We were supposed to meet for coffee on a cold January afternoon and I chickened out. Chats and emails followed, maybe some texts, too, but we wouldn't lock eyes for the first time until Cinco de mayo, the night I also happen to be reuniting with Lani after not seeing her in forever.

We were at Puck Fair: me, Lani and Lani's then-boyfriend, Matt. We fell back into our friendship as if nothing had changed, except now we were legally allowed to drink alcohol out in public together. I'd started the night by getting drunk with Irene at Gonzalez y Gonzalez, so by the time I'd met up with Lani, it was a wrap. "D" and I had agreed to meet for a drink; I told him to come to Puck Fair (in case he turned out to be a CRAZY Lani would know what to tell the cops).

Standing by the bar, contemplating some Buffalo wings, light buzz in my head, laughing and talking with Lani and Matt, I feel an arm rest itself around my waist. I was nervous; this was all new. I was happy to be free of my marriage shackles but I'd been out of the game for nearly 13 years. What the fuck did I know about dating?

I turned to face him and looked into the same soft, brown eyes from the picture he'd sent. He smiled at me and his eyes said "thank god you look like your picture, too." I felt relief, relaxed, attraction. The rest of the night is a blur. I think we all hung out for a bit more before parting ways. He'd driven to Puck Fair (Say what, now? Who drives in Manhattan? People from Queens, that's who!) and offered me a ride home. The rest is history, or rather, none of your business.

We didn't survive the summer. The point is the Meet Cute; the butterflies, turning slowly to face him, his soft brown eyes, and a shared smile. I haven't had a story like that in forever. Since D.

Guess I'll just have to write one.

*smooches...inspired by a writing prompt and an awesome Spotify playlist*
----------
the best part of being a writer is writing your own happy ending, regardless of the crappy reality before you. imagination is everything.

Voy A Reir, Voy A Gozar

So listen. This writing life gets more frustrating by the minute. I keep thinking I'm doing something amazing, and then the support is not there.

I just re-read that line and it sounds like a refrain I've sang before. I have sung this song before! I must be crazy thinking, "This time will be different. This time I will get them to come out and support. THIS TIME FOR REAL."

And then nothing.

I don't even know what I'm doing wrong. Except maybe expecting too much from the same group of people that have already proven to not give a rat's ass for what I do. I need a new song.



That said, I truly appreciate those who do make an effort to support me. I see you! I barely remember what I had for dinner last night but I will always remember who was there for me and who wasn't.

And this isn't me putting a gypsy curse on anyone, this is just me speaking my truth.

*smooches...dancing my troubles away*
----------
I wish it was last year and I was at Wolf Trap with Mari waiting for Marc Anthony to take the stage. that concert was everything!

Another Friendly Reminder

Today is the release celebration of my reading series' anthology at La Casa Azul Bookstore in East Harlem.

I'd love it if you could all join me!

*smooches...still unsure of what to wear*
----------
nothing fits and this weather is booty. don't be shocked if I show up in pajamas.

Another Day, Another Published Book

Hey SUCKAS! Guess what I just got? THE PROOF TO MY READING SERIES' ANTHOLOGY!

And listen, it's not as hefty as I wanted it to be--people just weren't submitting stuff--I love it. The cover is so snazzy (thanks, Marcin!) and the stories and poems within were hand-picked by ME, so you know it's awesome!

I'm having a book release party on Tuesday, April 29, at La Casa Azul Bookstore in East Harlem.

You should be there for the following reasons:
1. I'm awesome and you love and support me and everything I do.
2. There will be wine.
3. Some truly talented people contributed to this book.
4. There will be cupcakes.
5. You're going to want to take a picture with me + my red-red lipsticked self.
6. There will be wine + cupcakes.
7. My autograph will be worth MILLIONS soon; get it now for free (with the purchase of a book).
8. You can get drunk + eat cupcakes for two hours.
9. My short, "Erasing Cedrick," will rock your socks off.
10. Alcohol + Sugar already RSVPd.

So, see you there?

*smooches...gearing up for bigger things*
----------
I'm like a shark; if I stop moving I die!

My Friends Bring Me Peace

Yesterday afternoon I actually left my house, put on a dress and a full face of makeup, took my hair out of their Celie braids, and celebrated the book release of my homie and Fake Dominican sister, Blu Daniels. Her novel, Misconceptions, has been a long time coming, went through a trillion revisions, crossed many agents' and editors' hands and is FINALLY in book form. I'm so proud of her hard work, diligence and determination, and we look so cute when we step away from the computer and clean up for photo ops:

BIG UP BROOKLYN!

I must admit, at the time of the party, I'd only read a few pages of the book. People, I have ZERO TIME for luxuries like reading, sleeping, breathing... but last night, after N went to bed I figured, eh, why not? Let me step away from the computer, put my Spotify on shuffle, and see what the hell this book was talkin' 'bout.

I fell asleep shortly after, but then I woke up at 3am (the lights & music were still on), went to pee and thought, eh, might as well keep reading.

This is how I live my life these days. As if sleep is this annoyance that isn't necessary in my life. Sometimes I swear I need a hot slap right across the jaw.

Anyways, sometime around 7am I had to stop reading to get N ready for school, but for about four straight hours I wasn't checking my email, FB or The Twitter; I wasn't watching natural hair videos or "Golden Girls" reruns on YouTube; I wasn't stuffing my face with non-Paleo bullshit. I was just propped up on pillows, under the covers, reading a book.

It was a beautiful thing.

Thanks, Blu, for that much-needed moment of zen (even if I did crash at 7:30 this morning and was very late for work).

*smooches...just for Blu and her new book*
----------
in other news, I look like someone's fat auntie in that pic. no more photos until I drop a dress size. that is all.

My Bad, Did I Forget To Say Bye?

First, for old time's sake, some welcome back music:



OK so listen, I took another impromptu break. Whatever. Don't get all fake-upset. You clearly did just fine filling your days without me popping up in your inbox every day.

So what's new with me? Let's see...I'm still single (yeah, baby!!), K's off at college (one down, one to go), I've gained more weight and give no fucks about it, and I've finally decided to put myself on a real budget (which I really had no choice about; paying for college is a BITCH!).

N and I are settling into our non-K existence just fine so far, and I've been keeping busy trying to make my literary life bigger and better and more well-known throughout NYC. And of course, I've been ruining my eyesight and killing braincells watching TV and movies until the wee hours of the night. Writing? Yeah, not so much. But soon. SOON.

Meanwhile, it's Latino Heritage Month; be sure and hug a Mexican today or something.

So, what y'all been doing?

*smooches...only posting to keep my online fame active*
----------
unfortunately I need you fools to make shit happen. UGH. I hate needing people...