LadyFunkenstein
Photoshopped
- Joined
- Jun 29, 2005
- Posts
- 33,342
I used to get a lot of nosebleeds when I was a kid. I was really smart but very troubled, with an irrational fear of being possessed by the devil (thanks Catholicism) and belief in my powers of astral projection so strong, I could walk around my town late at night while appearing to still be in my bed (thanks for the regular beatings, mom!) Sometimes my nose would just spontaneously start to bleed, blood would just gush down my face. The last time it happened, I was about 19 or 20.
I am leaving New York. Again. It has been 8 years since I returned, right after my divorce was in the process of being finalized. I told F I was leaving New York. I met F almost two years ago in Atlanta, at a 12-party business-type dinner to which I was invited at the last minute. After dinner we went back to my hotel's roof top bar, had a few drinks, made out, went back to my room to smoke what a friend calls my " 'gina weed" thanks to my method of transporting it, and then had condomless sex in which he came on my tits. He lives in NYC too so we have "dated" a bit here and there.
For a writer, winning a National Book Award is like winning an Oscar when you are in the movie business. Daniel Handler, a multi-million dollar closeted, obese author of the Lemony Snicket series was the emcee this year. Author Jacqueline Woodson won an award for her childhood memoir Brown Girl Dreaming, to which Handler responded with a watermelon joke.
http://player.ooyala.com/iframe.html#ec=1sZWJ0cTrNP3vByXN8Tw0JHBP-hru8Wq&pbid=a637d53c5c0a43c7bf4e342886b9d8b0&docUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.nydailynews.com%2Fnews%2Fnational%2Flemony-snicket-daniel-handler-apologizes-racist-joke-article-1.2018713
Taking my NYC salary to NJ or PA is a good move. Nothing has happened during the last 8 years since I have returned, other than increasing my income. And a terrible six month meltdown which ended earlier this year. I texted F a few weeks ago that I was thinking of leaving. He asked why. I said, I have been here 8 years and nothing have changed. I live like I am 30 years old, I have never had a successful relationship, I am paying two rents... he responded "If you think that moving to Jersey is moving on, then maybe you should do it... lol"
I have spent the day getting rid of belongings. I finally ripped old CDs to get songs on my phone. I ruthlessly went through my clothing throwing things I haven't worn in over a year into a giant trash bag. As I sorted through clothing I thought about R. I was in love with him and he dumped me. My imagination started churning as I sorted through ridiculous skirts and blouses.
I hear the text notification. I pick up the phone and it is R. "I was just thinking of you and wanted to see how you are."
"I am leaving New York."
"What? Why?"
I said, "I have been here 8 years and nothing have changed. I live like I am 30 years old, I have never had a successful relationship, I am paying two rents..."
"I will be right over."
He is in love with me and can't bear to see me go. So I stay.
Now my lawn sized trash bag is filled with mid-level designer clothing. I put on my coat to take the bag to the for-profit clothing drop box down the street. My coat is on and I hear the text notification. It is F. "What's up Funk? Busy tonight?" I turned the phone over, picked up the bag and went out.
Outside my nose felt agitated, like a bit of an internal tickle. Dust? I gave it a quick blow and a giant ball of blood shot out onto the sidewalk. Blood trickled out for 10 seconds or so then went away.
I am leaving New York. Again. It has been 8 years since I returned, right after my divorce was in the process of being finalized. I told F I was leaving New York. I met F almost two years ago in Atlanta, at a 12-party business-type dinner to which I was invited at the last minute. After dinner we went back to my hotel's roof top bar, had a few drinks, made out, went back to my room to smoke what a friend calls my " 'gina weed" thanks to my method of transporting it, and then had condomless sex in which he came on my tits. He lives in NYC too so we have "dated" a bit here and there.
For a writer, winning a National Book Award is like winning an Oscar when you are in the movie business. Daniel Handler, a multi-million dollar closeted, obese author of the Lemony Snicket series was the emcee this year. Author Jacqueline Woodson won an award for her childhood memoir Brown Girl Dreaming, to which Handler responded with a watermelon joke.
http://player.ooyala.com/iframe.html#ec=1sZWJ0cTrNP3vByXN8Tw0JHBP-hru8Wq&pbid=a637d53c5c0a43c7bf4e342886b9d8b0&docUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.nydailynews.com%2Fnews%2Fnational%2Flemony-snicket-daniel-handler-apologizes-racist-joke-article-1.2018713
Taking my NYC salary to NJ or PA is a good move. Nothing has happened during the last 8 years since I have returned, other than increasing my income. And a terrible six month meltdown which ended earlier this year. I texted F a few weeks ago that I was thinking of leaving. He asked why. I said, I have been here 8 years and nothing have changed. I live like I am 30 years old, I have never had a successful relationship, I am paying two rents... he responded "If you think that moving to Jersey is moving on, then maybe you should do it... lol"
I have spent the day getting rid of belongings. I finally ripped old CDs to get songs on my phone. I ruthlessly went through my clothing throwing things I haven't worn in over a year into a giant trash bag. As I sorted through clothing I thought about R. I was in love with him and he dumped me. My imagination started churning as I sorted through ridiculous skirts and blouses.
I hear the text notification. I pick up the phone and it is R. "I was just thinking of you and wanted to see how you are."
"I am leaving New York."
"What? Why?"
I said, "I have been here 8 years and nothing have changed. I live like I am 30 years old, I have never had a successful relationship, I am paying two rents..."
"I will be right over."
He is in love with me and can't bear to see me go. So I stay.
Now my lawn sized trash bag is filled with mid-level designer clothing. I put on my coat to take the bag to the for-profit clothing drop box down the street. My coat is on and I hear the text notification. It is F. "What's up Funk? Busy tonight?" I turned the phone over, picked up the bag and went out.
Outside my nose felt agitated, like a bit of an internal tickle. Dust? I gave it a quick blow and a giant ball of blood shot out onto the sidewalk. Blood trickled out for 10 seconds or so then went away.
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