funny how you can just come back to a blog.
i live at the chelsea hotel now. i can say that now.
i wanted it for so long.
and for so long i would hope. and now i've lived her for a little bit of a long time and i sleep half on the floor and half on the couch.
my shoulder hurts but the rest of my body feels great from so much yoga.
and walking.
and living with kids.
the thing about living with kids is you stop caring what you look like so much. cause they don't care so much.
you just go for that story.
and go for those jokes and your thoughts and your words just mix up and you're thinking out loud and encourage everyone else to.
the thing about getting happy again is that you barely realized you were sad in the first place. because sadness was this friend
and you became attached.
co dependent.
and angry friends passed by and sexy friends passed through and goodbye blue mondays always has a show you could do.
and you're finding new music. but the music you listened to while you were hoping and praying to live where you live now while you were walking around the park in astoria. dusk with friends but you didn't know they were your friends yet. you listened to these songs you listen to now.
are you still talented?
do you even care?
do you even care if people really know you?
the friends in new york are light flashes of lightning.
i walked across the bridge the other night. the williamburg bridge. it was thunder and i saw a little lightning.
and i stopped in the middle of the bridge. my shirt was half bought by a woman in the shop.
a redhead sitting up straight seventy something years old.
"i'll tell you what. that looks so good on you, i'll pay half." and she gave me that five dollar bill right then and there. and put that shirt over my dress and i wore that shirt with style and no umbrella and my socks pulled up with my clogs.
and who knows what the voguees would think.
who knows what the voguees think ever.
i worry a little about the way i looked in that dress that night. the white one. makes me look a little many these days with my muscles. who knows. or maybe it's just me that makes me look a little manly.
and you see what these thoughts do?
they go no where.
back to the bridge.
always go go back to the bridge.
i stopped in the middle. looked out on the water.
thought about how i know david byrne and he smiled at me and tried to find his daughter for me to hang out with at that party. and i thought how we are the strange ones. the non creatives.
the ones who worry.
and stop creating. at a certain point. stop singing.
i sang a bit on the bridge.
we are young.
and stupid songs like that.
i thought "i can't believe i live in this city." i thought "am i becoming enlightened" i thought. i don't care about sex anymore.
i thought here i am and i feel my legs and my stomach and i haven't had so many regrets so maybe i wont ever have many regrets and i thought
nothing.
meditation.
elevation.
teh man who lives on the street who used to live in the chelsea hotel
who sells records.
we used to talk.
and then he told me that he has soft bones
and that he is healing.
and he noticed when i walked with my mom. how upset i looked.
how intense she is.
how she needs me to win.
or at least feel like i'm winning.
i don't know about that.
i raced against the tall guy who was a twin in my high school class. smart. i made a noise running.
a funny "aaaah"
that sound that made guys laugh.
the ones who ignore me now.
funny when guys just move on. they try on your skirt one night. and then you text them another night and there's no answer.
when i get no answer's to texts it makes me feel like i've turned into a character.
because you can do that, you know.
just never really let people know. or let people know so much that you just become this story.
or you become dust.
and you just have to wait for the wind.
he just came by. the homeless guy. tried on my headphones.
made me feel like i should turn on janis joplin.
cry baby.
met a new friend, freya. she's a red head rocker girl and she plays electric guitar and is from australia and a lesbo and has a great life and a great accent and loves.
and is fast talking nineteen.
like me.
you're every age i think. if you want to be.
if you keep it.
if you're one of those muscle memory people.
all you ever gotta do is be a good man one time to one woman?
she died early, though.
we had to make up the rest of her. with our love.
i do feel the ghosts here.
i'm starting to actually feel them. i know when there are good times and i know when there are bad.
i gave a piece of my heart writing to a guy in el quijote. he said he was there every night at eleven thirty.
he was nice. a skinny artist.
a little boring.
i haven't been back.