Thursday, September 28, 2006

a little brown gray haired birdie told me....

"Anything is permissible but not everything is profitable or beneficial for you- sure you can do what whatever you want- but everything is not for your good" ....what a brilliant baby!"
-thank you k.m.


yesterday i was told that i am not that good at what i do. it rattled me. but i heard him loud and clear.... "styling is a lot about negotiating...and even more about are responsible for EVERYTHING in the picture frame". feeling like i already knew everything he said...i stood quietly and listened. today, i want to shoot. today i want to be better at what i do. i will.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

today Mr. Clean died...

no one really seemed to notice. most of us continued along our daily routine...
either coming or going. i glanced down at the ground and saw a candy wrapper...

he had noticed me before we formally introduced ourselves.
i think i saw him too. not for certain.
"oh i'm retired...this is where i come to hang out everyday"
his army green members only, and olive green shirt and raggady
pants led me to assume his past profession. however, i chose to
inquire..."where did you work?"
"served in the army. worked as a reserve. worked with the bank,
doing security. and then i did security for this other place that's closed
i know. i knew.
"it all paid off. i got a lot of money, and i am living off of it now. so yea,
in the middle of the day i come down here to hang out.
....ya'll gotta wear all black in there?"
he knows?
"yes sir, i believe that it is policy now."
"i know. you do visuals for mens. saw you the other day"
guess i don't see everyone that sees me.

"look at mr. clean...that man does a good job. a GOOD job.
i call him mr. clean, cuz you never see nothin layin round here..."
"yea, he has an awesome work ethic".
i have no work ethic. none.
he knows.

i told him that it had been a pleasure speaking with him, and that
i looked forward to seeing him again. as i rose, i walked past
mr. clean, smiled, and hoped that one day i would acquire
such self discipline.


we all emerged from underground utterly disgusted.
the air stank.
sorry mam..."NAH FUCK YOU...YOU MOVE!"
she forcefully bumped me of out of the way.
i stood there, stuck, trying to think of my next move.
my eyes were low, watching her boots continue
to hit the pavement. brown popcorn kernals were stuck
on the bottom of her left boot, and a used condom under
her right.
she was so ugly.
i hated her.
she disappeared.

i climbed the remaining steps, and pushed through
people with the guidance of the devil.
my heart was cold. my body was heavy and tense.
i stormed down the sidewalk, seeing nothing but colors
whizz by me. why was everyone moving so damn slow?
i glimpsed his jacket. different shirt. different pants.
he wore his members only on top of a white button up and
slacks. it all looked familiar.

kicking papers, half eaten burgers, dingy t-shirts, and a
trash bag itself i pushed through people to move closer...
it was getting harder and harder to get close to him.
i stood still. screaming at him i said...
even though there were dozens of people between him and i,
i still felt him looking at me.
"i killed mr. clean. but you already knew that"

Sunday, September 24, 2006

different space. same time?

last night was the first night i felt at home here.

in these past 3 weeks, i have been moving at a
pace that won't allow me to miss too much of
anything. my eyes are fixated on two goals:

1. getting a full time job WITH BENEFITS...
under the creative umbrella of fashion.

2. staying in touch with the director of
my desired program at parsons, and
continously working on my papers.

it doesn't matter that i don't have a car
to hop in and make a run to see family/
friends. it doesn't matter that i can't
hit him up, and meet him in a matter
of minutes in little 5. IT DOESN'T
matter that i am now the last one to
get the updates that everyone else has
known for weeks.

it's all totally irrelevant.
none of this brings me any closer
to my career and grad school.
being here...being lost....being lonely

last night was dosa's art show.
there has never been a time where i truly
felt like i was 'missing out' on something.
i badly wanted to transport myself to
atlanta for one night by a blink of an eye.

the four of us walked about 2 blocks up.
all of last night reminded me of my
fondest moments from atlanta.
the music. the sweat. the beautiful people.
the art. the creativity. THE LOVE.
for the first time it all felt right.

the timing was personal.
(or at least, i took it that way).

Friday, September 22, 2006

balance (mark 25)

within me...i host both good and evil.
according to the st. savin, its not that we're not all tempted...
its simply how we control ourselves.
today i wonder how much i am in control.
what is fueling my motives right now?

is this whole mission 'by any means necessary'?
yes. no.

i have been given gifts.
one being my vision.
i see beauty.
'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.'
i get this. i truly get this...i try hard to live by it now.
i may not always feel like
being honest. it can be exhausting,
annoying, painful, even hard.
so i guess i choose not to look.
but when i do look, i always know what
is beautiful and what is honest.

....i gotta stop being lazy.


lately i have been seeing myself everywhere...
in everybody. this city has a different pulse.
the other day, we played a game where we
people watched and guessed whose occupations
were what.
he said librarian, i said stripper.
he said bum, i said professor.
he said investment banker, i said investment banker.
so i sat and thought...i wonder how people
may receive me. what would they guess i am?
....there is NO telling.
being here, i feel above no bad situation...but then again
i feel worthy of everything grande. i can glimpse
a blind homeless person and see me. i then can
turn and watch the stylist on set, and see myself
again. i am not a very judgemental person...*ahem*
i try not to be a very judgemental person...but being
in this city i feel like i understand how any person
got to where they are (or seem to be). it all seems


"i have two pockets, each contains a piece of paper with
writing on it, but i only put money in my left pocket," he
said in reply.

"on the piece of paper in my right pocket, i wrote:
i am nothing but dust and ashes. the piece of paper
in my left pocket, where i keep my moeny says:
i am the manifestation of God on Earth. Whenever I
see misery and injustice, I put my hand in my left pocket
and try to help. Whenever I come up against laziness
and indolence, I put my hand in my right pocket and find
I have nothing to give. In this way, I manage to balance
the material and spiritual worlds."

update: paulo coelho asked that i marry him.
instinctively, i smiled and SCREAMED. i do.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

excuse me miss...under 18 or over 18?

i really believe that i am not getting older.
i still see myself rollerskating down the street in a thunderstorm at 12...
i see my mom, sister, and i sleeping together in the BIG bed at 14....
i definitely still dance the same from 'little feet' days...that was 8...
dorthea and i screaming at one another at 10....
me being a serious athlete at 16....
wearing thick head bands and wayyyy too many bangles at 18....
SAME at 23.
i am 23 years old.

when coming up from the subway, a man passing out flyers asked...
"are u under 18, or over 18?".....i should have simply hugged him.


true faith brings peace.
no worry...NOTHING.
just quiet peace.
this feels right (for once).

Thursday, September 14, 2006