Commuter Struggles

Most days I'm okay with not knowing how to drive. It's really just not a priority in my life. I live in NYC where sidewalks abound and everything I could want is within a walk's reach- food, clothes, more food, hardware supplies, housewares and food.

 But on that rare occasion I do understand why people have cars.

Like on Sunday when I was two minutes late for the 113N Bus to NJ even though I ran through the 42nd Street station and through Port Authority and up the stairs and bought my ticket in record time and shoved some people on the escalator; that bloody driver took off without me even though HE SAW ME and I banged on the side of the bus and yelled "WAAAIIIITTTTTT!" All thanks to work being done on the F/G line that caused my usual 40-minute subway ride into Port Authority to take 55 minutes. BLERG!

Or on Monday when I took the R-train towards Coney Island instead of towards Manhattan while carrying 12lbs of ground turkey and 6lbs of other various supermarket items. Let me explain it to you non-NYers: The R-train towards Coney Island connects to the F at 9th Street/4th Avenue, where you have to climb stairs all the way to JUPITER to reach the elevated F-train platform. But, if you take the R towards Manhattan, you can disembark at MetroTech and take a nice, comfy escalator ride to the F-train at Jay Street. Last night, as an added bonus, I had to climb ANOTHER story to reach my platform because of construction. With 12lbs of ground turkey and 6lbs of other various supermarket items.

I'd venture to say that was my workout for the day. I just wish I had known that before I took that 25-minute walk during lunch. I could have been sitting on my ass all afternoon!

*smooches...trying not to hold a grudge against NYC*
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I'll just be better prepared next time is all. in other news, can someone rub my back? *pouty eyes*

Musical Interlude: 12.5.11

I'm still trying to work on this creative dispute with myself (finding a new muse, getting words on paper, etc) so I don't have the blog on my brain. Instead I'm digging through the music crates, skimming through old books, watching old movies, looking for that lightening bolt of inspiration. Shout out to Spotify, Netflix and the Brooklyn Public Library for helping me with this project.

While you wait for me to get right, enjoy the tunes!











*smooches...feeding my soul as best I know how*
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that paula cole song, dawg...that's my shit. real thugs listen to paula cole. you heard it here first!

Jaded Photographs: December 2011 Edition

"DUNZO!"

*smooches...with some great new memories*
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JESUS is that what I look like when I've been drinking? NEVER AGAIN, SON!

It's Not NYC, It's You.

When I was younger, my cousin Minnie had caught an attitude with someone who had talked smack about my mom, which I found odd because Minnie and Mami were nowhere near being BFFs. But she said to me, "It's one thing if I talk about her because she's my aunt, but I'm not going to let some outsider say shit about my family."

That's how I feel whenever I hear derogatory or inflammatory comments about New York City.

Everyone feels a certain connection with their hometown whether or not they had a good childhood. I can understand if someone grew up in Key West, for example, moving to NYC can be a shocker (winter, questionable beaches, high stress environments) and that person will start lamenting having to wear shoes instead of flip-flops all day, or our high cost of living or the fast pace of the City. I get that.

HOWEVER... There is nothing wrong with this City. New York is New York. It has always been this place that never sleeps and every other thing you've ever heard about it. Midtown traffic is always crazy. Rats ABOUND in the streets and subways. It IS a concrete jungle with less green and more gray than many have ever seen. You might get stabbed to death while jogging in the park. So don't move here and then talk shit about it because you should have known this coming in. And frankly, we're dirty, congested, stacked on top of each other, squished into meager-yet-expensive living quarters and consistently stuck in traffic because a gazillion people keep moving here!

Manhattan is but five miles long- how else did you think we were gonna fit all you out-of-towners longing to make it in the bright lights of the big city? And the outer-boroughs are quickly filling up, too. Don't suck up all of our resources and then shit on the very place that provides for you, son! That is not acceptable.

I've lived in other places that are very un-New York-ish, and I get that it's hard to live in the unfamiliar. The first time I saw the farm country backwoods of Pottersville, New Jersey, and realized I had to call that place home because of family obligations, I cried real tears every night for a week. But after that I sucked it up, made the best of it (friends with cars are AWESOME!) and plotted my eventual escape.

Realize that you made a conscious choice to set up shop in one of the greatest cities in the world. YES, THE WORLD. No one forced you to come into my backyard and mooch off all the barbecue, so I'll thank ya kindly to either love it or leave it alone. Amen & God Bless.

*smooches...giving NYC a great big booty grope*
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that means I love you!

"...So Much Depends On The Weather..."

In trying to change up the types of books I read, I picked up Scott Weiland's autobiography from the library. Y'all know Weiland, right? Frontman for Stone Temple Pilots and Velvet Revolver? Anyway, I grabbed his book, "Not Dead & Not For Sale" hoping to get some clarity on what went wrong with him and Velvet Revolver- a band I was totally in love with- that would make him walk away.

At first I was only interested in reading the sections that discussed VR, but I kind of dug the spazzy way in which the book was written so I started from the beginning. What a life he's led so far! And you know when someone is described as having an artistic soul? Yeah, they're absolutely describing Weiland. Reading his thoughts on the different happenings of his life, and the people who came and went, is mesmerizing.

When I got to the point where Weiland describes his and Dean DeLeo's acoustic performance of "Plush" on MTV's "Headbanger's Ball" I immediately googled the clip because I remembered seeing that when it first ran and absolutely falling in love with this band. Weiland's voice was so powerful and DeLeo's playing was so soothing- it was everything "Headbanger's Ball" was not and that made the performance stand out to me.



Googling that clip obviously made me play other STP songs, and that led to Pearl Jam songs, then Nirvana, then the Cranberries, until I had worked myself into a dark cloud of artistic yearning. You creatives know the feeling- when there's something in you that wants out but your current situation or environment won't allow its freedom.

See, most of the writing I've completed to date was written during my darkest hours, with Weiland and his grunge cohorts as my soundtrack. I suffered from Teen Angst well into my 20s. And I would spend so many hours listening to this music as I poured out my sorrows on paper. From that was born many a troubled character and I loved it.

But now I'm not as deeply depressed. I actually like myself a little bit and there's a lot more sunshine in my life. The downside of all that, of course, is that the dark cloud was always my muse. The dank, rainy days helped me create and the downward spirals gifted me page upon page of beautiful words. Today, with all my happiness and natural highs, I can't seem to find the key that will unlock an avalanche of literature from my mind.

So like the artist that fears a sober life will affect his craft, I don't know how to feel good and write great stories. I play those old songs and I long for the level of creativity I used to have, regardless of how immature and soul-stealing it was. These great days have not created any new characters and won't let me expound on the old ones. I cannot find a new muse.



I'm hoping that by the time I finish Weiland's tome, he'll have some answers for me.

*smooches...stuck in the middle of what was and what could be*
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if this keeps up, I'm taking up drinking, sex & hot wings again AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME!