Bury me on the Pelham Parkway at the Unicorn House

Marisa and I drove along the Pelham Parkway last night. She wanted to show me the Unicorn House that almost made her drive off the road on the way to work in the morning.

We pulled over and I jumped out to take pictures. People live in this place, it is not a statue business or a weird wedding hall. While taking pictures I hollared at Marisa that there were live humans inside, one with a mass of crazy red hair, like Patricia Field and a bald old man, just chillin. Marisa noted that there was a pool. Later when we were driving away she mentioned that maybe this was a hobby of ours. I think I would like to pursue this hobby more. As of today, this is where I hope I go when I die. I would like to sip pina coladas and eat tiny weiners atop a unicorn while watching the traffic on the parkway. Afterwards, I would take a dip in the pool for a million years or a second, however times works in the afterworld.

p.s. yes that is a chandelier hanging outside and yes those are religious icons being suffocated in weatherproof plastic. Also, there is a santa claus with sleigh, etc., on the roof.

Grampa Scrimshaw

This old man came to fix the tub in my apartment. I asked him if he was a sailor because he was wearing an old timey sailor cap and all sorts of nautical flair.
"Nope," he said, "I make scrimshaw" and he took out an Altoids box and opened it up. Inside was a handcrafted needle with an eraser stuck on top and little pieces of ivory he was working on. I noticed all his flair was scrimshaw. He even had a belt buckle with a huge Clipper ship. He said he was once asked to do presentations down at South Street Seaport for tourists, I thought that was beneath him but I held that to myself. He should be in a gallery. I wanted to this man to be my grandfather and scrimshaw mentor.

Wax on Deniroson

This peel and stick window art is from a karate studio that I pass everyday in my hood, it's on the corner of McGuiness and Meserole across from a bar for the dying, called Pit Stop. This is one of my favorite things. Check out the rust that looks like blood splatter all over Deniro's face. Also, check out the bear claw marks, it makes me pray that this karate studio includes Kruger hands for kids to train with and the scary coach from Karate kid dips your hands in crushed glass before he breaks a 2 by 4 over your 9 year old back.

Black Rabbit

I will miss you and your convenience to Vince's apartment. I will miss Vince using your toilet when his water is shut off. I will miss your hot totties and sliders with ruffles. I will miss bingo but I will not miss my frustration with never winning. I will miss pushing the button for your red and green service lights. I will miss your mexican waiters who ignore all the lude comments from my lustful, drunken friends. I will miss you on Sunday nights when Vince comes over from doing laundry down the stree, we grab a booth and begin to talk.

Full Moon in Greenpoint

This is what the last full moon looked like in Greenpoint. It's not actually the last full moon for Greenpoint, but the last one I'll see living here. Prices are still rising and the young, white and trendful are slouching their skinny shoulders on more corners than I care to acknowledge. There are still not many people with different color skin around here. That's boring. The Polish are aplenty but moving back to Polandia because of the economy. It's nice to live in NYC for a while. Maybe someday I'll live here again or maybe the one partially blackish guy who lives down the street and who it seems, is a full time Basquiat impersonator, from the hair, clothes, staggering walk to the distant distant starry eyed stare, maybe he will invite me over tonight to draw crowns and childlike faces on his fairly new, remodeled kitchen cabinets, rent some Godard films, eat some hash, shoot some smack in American Apparel tank tops with intentional armpit stains, collect the insects lying in his dirty windowsill and sprinkle them on eachother hair like fairy dust in an impromtu marriage ceremony. Maybe then I would stay, assuming of course, he was really loaded.

toodles greenpoint, it's been realz.

Forgotten Love

I forgot about Samuel Beckett, now I'm rediscovering my love for him. He makes me want to write or write less, I'm not sure.

Tough Love

A young woman I work with is an illegal immigrant. She came from Peru following a vision from her Godfather who lives in a mansion around Montu Pichu on the money he earns reading cards and telling the future. Within months of arriving in New York City she met a white man who earned a living as a Queens police officer. He frequented the Mexican restaurant where she worked. It was rocky after a camera caught her and an unrelenting, admiring co-worker getting it on in the storage room. The police officer acted devastated. She vowed to make it up to him. He pushed her away (while still allowing congegal visits). She fell in love. She stayed past her time. It turned out, he was unfaithful to her the whole time and moved in with an older, Columbian woman, in a nice house, somewhere in Long Island. During the end, she tried impregnate herself by collecting the white mans seed from her pants and well, you can imagine the rest. The godfather on the mountain foresaw this, well partially. He told her she would meet a white man in uniform within months of moving to a foreign land.
Months later, while still mourning the white man, (whom she said so closely resembled myself, it made it difficult for her to look at me) she met another. The new man was tall and rich. Although she was only attracted to white men, she hesitated to call him white because he was "Jewess". He had a house in the Dominican and did a lot of business with Spanish speaking countries. He had two yachts. He spoke spanish to her. She fell in love. The godfather foresaw this and said she would bare a child from either a white man in uniform or a rich man, the decision would be a struggle for her.
She tells me she is planning a trip to Miami, with her friends. They will fly down but she will take a 14 hour bus because she cannot board a plane without identification. She's sad I'm moving to Kansas- says I've taught her to speak English. Of course, I hardly taught her anything, only struggled to understand and incorporated hand gestures into my conversations. her back has been hurting her, she just wants to relax and sit in the sun. She says she is taking a break from men. She is healing her heart. She joined a church. The church does not believe in anything her godfather told her. They say it is all evil and now, well, she seems scared.

Me Want

It's holiday's like today that I like to talk about commercialism. I also like to receive cards and chocolates.
Someday, I look forward to receiving:
1. An anatomically correct chocolate model of myself, flattering of course
2. A collection of poems about me, by the adorer, tattooed on adorers face
3. A trained monkey
4. An "I owe You" for servitude for the rest of his life.

Anticipation

A plane crashed today in Buffalo, NY., everyone on the plane died. I watched coverage on the news as I curled my hair. I felt compelled to watch it and compelled to turn it off. I thought about how I have not yet suffered a tragedy and my anticipation of it as I try to sleep at night. I thought about how sick that is of me. I thought about the people who watched the fireball from their dining rooms windows, pulling their kids away from the couch, calling their husbands and their sisters, getting into their cars, driving closer to the site, standing outside wire fences, watching fire trucks blur into the smoke, listening to the news as they're watching it happen. I thought about getting my curls to turn outward, to represent the late seventies.

I Am Clean, Classic and Sophisticated

For years I've shopped in thrift shops and cheap clothing stores as a hobby, an emotional outlet, and occasionally because I needed clothes. Once a year it seems, I have an intense, lunar related cleansing during which I chastise myself for terrible, wasteful, consumerism and poor fashion choices. I build mountainous piles for salvation army, friends and trash. I vow to myself to simplify my life and closet. To have at least a half inch of room between the hangers in my closet. To purchase only quality items that flatter me. To not fall victim to trends that are unbecoming. To embrace the feeling of peace that comes with having just a few good options as opposed to hundreds of misses.


I would like to publicly acknowledge some of my historic wrong doings in hopes that I will stop.


1. Hot pink mesh "mini" poncho (approx. year, 2004)
2. Purple Suede chunky 4 inch heel mid calf boots (approx. yr. 2000)
3. Various "club wear" shirts where cleavage was not left to the imagination, said shirts worn to office jobs.
4. Lots of lateral stripes
5. Rayon blend Pallazo pants, with small hole in crotch, discovered after sometime of stretching leg wildly against wall in African American Lit. class, worn after discovery (approx. yr. 2000)
6. Cheap bras bought for cuteness that make a total of 6 breasts and stab me in the underarm. (Present)
7. Gauzy, synthetic blouses with obnoxious floral patterns that could only be found on 16 year old girls sneaking into a club, professional ladies of the evening and myself.
8. Pants that do not fit... anywhere... on my body
9. Gauchos (they will never be ok on me, no matter how many times I buy them)
10. Faux fur, sweater jacket that succeeded in scaring off small bears and wildlife but failed to convey sophistication, that is, outside of prison walls.

Tree Gets Away With It

This morning a tree fell on a man in Brooklyn. He survived. He was on his way to work. He is an Engineer at Lincoln Center. They showed a picture of the man, he looked like a hard worker. I was waiting for the news to imply that the tree was assaulting the man or was out for revenge, that the man and the tree had a long, violent history, the tree was a drug abuser and a pedophile and an illegal immigrant with links to terrorist organizations. But they let the tree off the hook and the man walked away and went in just a little late to work.

My friends at the Grocery Store

I miss my friends at the Prairie Village Grocery Store. I think about them a lot. The check out lady, the woman behind me and the old man behind her. We had fun that day. They seemed interested in me, which is endearing. I made them laugh, they told me stories about when they traveled to NYC. We related. I tell my friends in NYC the story about how we met. I wonder if they tell their friends about me?

People, People Who Need People

There is a theory that New Yorkers are not nice initially, but will go out of their way for you when it counts. The idea is that New Yorkers put up with a lot of fast paced craziness and psychotic people so smiling at strangers isn't efficient or smart. Now that I'm leaving NYC I recall the day I moved here. Here are some cool things that New Yorkers did unto me that day:




After hitting a parked car with my enormous Uhaul, a chilled out vintage furniture store owner walked over, checked out the obvious scrapes and dent in his car and said, "don't worry about it, that's what happens to cars." He welcomed me to the city and walked back to his shop. I can't remember where his shop was or what street it was on.


Later that same day, the sun set as it does and darkness followed, as it will. The headlights on our Uhaul died as we (my loving, indentured family and I) became more and more lost, knowing we were just streets away from the Uhaul drop off center and if we couldn't drop it off we would have to pay like $600 and hope they didn't discover the damage from the fender bender. It was around midnight and I had cried from frustration and exhausation at least 3 times. Then, up from the pavement, a tiny, woman in a t-shirt and shorts appeared. She led our blind caravan through Brooklyn, until she delivered us to the front door of the Uhaul drop off center. I don't remember her name.












She reminded me of a man I met when I was travelling through Europe with my friend. We were both too young to be travelling alone, she was 15, I was 14. We were on an Italian train heading to Piza when a scary guy sat down next to us and in broken english asked questions that would make Linda Lovelace blush. He wouldn't give up and we were too young and naive to stop it but very aware of how isolated we were on the overnight train and amazed by the lack of security and official looking people anywhere.
The scary guy followed us off the train when out of nowhere an older, rather attractive, well dressed Italian man, who spoke no English, surrounded us in the vacant terminal and took us away with him to safety. I don't remember his name, I don't think I ever asked him.

Dear Kansas City, Be Good To Me. Love, Brooklyn

Dear Kansas City,

I am coming all the way from Brooklyn to live with you!




















If you want, I'll bring you Cheesecake from Juniors.
















I'm on the lookout for one of these. Do you have any?
















People tell me Lawrence is really cool. Artsy college town stuff...
Is there an Urban Outfitters? ha I kid, I'm excited to meet you!














Do you think you'll like me? I have some skills, some of which I don't utilize very often, like sewing. I used to make clothes, maybe you want me to make something for you? Nothing too difficult please. I have something to bring to the table, is what I'm trying to say. I won't just be a taker.

Friends Not Trends

Yay! This is it. You are here. This was not a mistake.

I bet we have a lot of things in common, things that we can build a friendship on.

I like animals that are really cute. You do too?!

I like Pizza Parties and Apple Pie. You do too?!

Would you like to combine the above likes and create a magical birthday party filled with cuddly animals, pizza, apple pie and love mostly aimed towards yourself?? Me too!

I would totally invite you to mine. I trust you.

If I needed to, like if I had an important interview and I just ate Indian food for lunch, I would take half of the gum that you've been chewing, if I was in a rush.

I don't worry about mouth disease with you.

Also, I will take your mother to the dentist when she gets a little older and you've caught a stomach virus and are dry heaving in the afternoon.

That's not a problem.

We are on the same page with a lot of things, I can tell.