Skip to main content

30 days to New York.

I love this city so much. I can't believe I'm already leaving it. I love the view of my apartment. How big the sky is over the Sound. The cool breeze. the music.

THE PEOPLE my family my friends my neighbors. all the new folks i've met and will meet in the next few weeks.

I'm really not ready to leave. I keep being told it will be here when I get back but two years is so long.

I believe in what I'm going to go do and what I'm going to go study. I believe that New York is where I need to do it. I think living there will be an amazing experience. I believe I will grow to love it there too.

But I've made a home for myself here. For someone so afraid of commitment I have a real need to nest. And I'm proud of myself for having done so. I could see myself living here right where I am for YEARS. But if I could be doing the work I want to do.... well, wouldn't that just be something?
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Taking Up With The House of Joy

Winter finally arrived in Cape Town, and with a vengeance. The weather today is blustery as all get out with heavy rains and winds and a few spots of light drizzling and cold gusts. At the moment it is positively pouring. A great day for nesting. Fortunately, I moved into my new abode today. Most likely, I will be staying here until the end of July. It should work out just fine, provided I can figure out the function of that weird red light that blinks in the corner of this room. The house is in Obs in a residential area near the main strip. It's a riverside walk away from work and not too far from the city center, either. It operates as a venue once a month for poets and musicians and has been dubbed The House of Joy. It has a nice kitchen and a large dining room. The couple from whom I'm letting are very kind. After getting settled, I went across the bridge to Lower Main Road for lunch at Hello Sailor . On the way home, I was able to stock up on spices and oils at the ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Like a Muffin with Frosting

This is a metaphor about gender and my relationship to my chest without speaking directly about my chest. I'm like a muffin with frosting. I look like a cupcake, but I'm not. I'm a muffin. And listen, there's nothing wrong with frosting. I love frosting! Frosting is boss! Whether or not frosting is super incredible is not the issue! The issue is that I do not identify with the frosting, particularly because it does not reinforce my identity as a muffin and as it does contribute to other people thinking I'm a cupcake. Really, the only reason to keep the frosting is for other people who really like cupcakes and think that I might be one. Or people who really like muffins and frosting. But the point is keeping the frosting would be to reify the idea that the space I take is only for the pleasure of others--others who like frosting. And it hides my muffin-ness from the world and, most importantly, myself. You might say, fuck pastry rolls!! What is it about frost...
Post a Comment
Read more

Dave Eggers, we're in a fight.

I finally picked up one of your books. So many people I respect and adore think you're marvelous so I broke my once indefinite ban on male authors and picked up a book of short stories. Thus far, I'd enjoyed it. Interesting style and characters and all the other nice things people say about you. Today, I ran out to catch the last dregs of sunlight and read one. It was long and got cold while I was still pages from the end. Intrigued by the characters and wanting to get a sense of closure, I persisted. I may have lifted my ban too soon. I don't want to be too quick to anger, but is there anything at all enlightening in taking one of those cases of unacknowledged rape from the perspective of he who commits? Or perhaps, of course, it is not the responsibility of a writer to be enlightening. It is enough to just describe. Could more not have been done? You wrote it in a way that someone such as myself can see the underwritings of how women will often allow men to have se...
Post a Comment
Read more