I imagine and fantasize an evening filled with a candle lit dinner, a bottle (or two) of red, some blues and jazz, an all night passionate love making sessions and multiple orgasms . after all, your leaving the country. Instead its frantic last minute errands, emails, skype phone calls, confirmations, and the packing and repacking of a custom built road master neon green bicycle. complete with luggage and gear and multiple cups of joe. Sigh. The taxi arrives sometime around 4am and im exhausted and stressed, but confident that tony's anxiety will subside when he arrives at the airport. This is his first big trip. No, no i understand. its ok. we'll see each other sometime soon. have fun in nepal
this is my first night alone in this huge apt and its awkward and lonely. just me the cat and the turtle. none of which are offering any moral support. as the days press on, the memory of our nights together, and mornings of homemade soy lattes and breakfast seem like a distant past. i remain connected by remembering all of our moments together and how summer faded to fall and into winter, like a passing cloud. silent and reverent. our friendship blossomed into a wholesome romantic relationship full of respect and admiration. something that i can assure you i had not known before, yet was strangely comfortable with. had we hopped in the sack at my first attempt to throw myself at him, well i can ascertain it would have been different. our first moment huddled together in a tent at burning man, laughing playfully and friendly, was of sincere and mutual acknowledgement that we were taking our relationship to another level. a deeper and more intimate level that i was very much in need of. and wow. was it worth the wait. hallelujah hallelujah halleee luAH...
our initial infatuation with exploring each others bodies kept on going all the way through the burn into reno, san fran and back to nyc. i suppose we all need a break sometime so i finally went home. but i was a new woman. ready to take on the world and everything in it. this also encouraged a less aloofness from tony and more attention for me. its was great to be desired again, like the sexual goddess i am, and about damned time my hot bod was worshiped too. but like any other inferno it eventually fades to embers and that's ok by me. it was feeling more comfortable and i hate to say it routine. dinners at home, breakfasts and coffee, work, late nights, early mornings. my place or yours. ships passing in the night; im early to rise, hes a night owl, we often passed each other on the switch. the real world part of the relationship that i have difficulty getting used to. but oh how to spice it up you ask, sublet your boyfriends apartment, two weeks before he leaves town. yes brilliant idea. 
now with the new york grey settling in and my memories keeping me alive i decide to pass some of the time by redecorating. i mean who wants this silly old table tennis monstrosity taking up all this lovely morning sunlight anyway. my last apt was in desperate need of sunshine and i refuse to be denied any longer. my flatmate poonam agrees that a comfy chair in front of the window is just what we need to cure to our winter blues. not to mention a fresh coat of orange paint and a new shelf to hang our plants on. ha, i said our. after all i am sort of house sitting and taking care of the greenery. im also debating a surprise renovation of the famous turtle tank into an indoor pond. of course her majesty ezmy would also enjoy a fountain to splash around in. who the fuck am i turning into the diy martha stewart. my mother would call this nesting. i don't like this idea at all. or do i? i am pushing 30 with no history of a long term relationship under my belt, he could be the one, and its my time to shine. all the decisions i make from here on out will determine the outcome of my new life cycle. or so the story goes. anyway, i must say i love what ive done to the place, and enjoy nothing more than sipping a cup a tea curled up in that chair with a good book. enter universal trump card
i am a freelance artist/designer/scenic painter/prop stylist/carpenter/p.a/art director/special fx artist/what ever will pay my rent this month kinda girl. and at times i feel like a tigress out hunting my prey when it comes to work. its cold. damp. and im lonely when i realize a few museum flies at the guggenheim are talking about a new gig next door at the cooper hewitt. well i havent been called yet, and imagine it was probably a slight oversight so i march right over. budget cuts? are you serious? and you chose me? i am totally counting on this gig to get me through the winter. anyone else who freelances in new york knows what a dreadful pain in the ass it is to find work in janurary. fuuuck.
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