MacKenzie, on a whim

I haven't been alone for this many consecutive hours in quite some time. Not that I mind it, it's rather refreshing. Refreshing and terrifying at the same time. What is it that makes some of us so afraid of being alone? I opened up the bedroom window and sat on the sill. I lit my cigarette with solid and sure hands, inhaled, closed my eyes and listened to the city below. I am only on the fifth floor but I look down at the streets below, red and yellow, blue and green lights; cars driving too fast for small city streets. Everyone is in a rush here, they honk their horns, speed up at crossing pedestrians. I begin to lean back and realize the window is open behind me. Most people are afraid of heights. Most people get dizzy from looking down at the ground beneath them from very high up in the sky. Looking down never makes me feel that way, it's actually the exact opposite. Looking up is what gives me a slight fright, a shiver that shoots through my blood stream. Looking up m...

Today was a very beautiful day filled with beautiful things; snow falling on my face while walking with an interesting stranger towards the foggy and lit up Empire State Building, the smile on my sisters face as she leaves for a new job that she loves, the jazz musicians in the subway at Union Square and the crowd surrounding them as they play, and this video. This is beautiful. I love life. Some days the city makes me feel defeated, like I have completely failed. Today was not one of those days.

Life is awful hard boys, life is something hard.

There are very few things I wouldn't do to sleep next to the person I love tonight. To see every tiny freckle I find perfectly placed upon his back, I want to smell his sweat and feel his legs wrapped ever so effortlessly around mine. I want to fit with my other half. I want to sleep in too late and open crusty eyes to the ocean, I want to spin in the rain under the moon and stare with wonder and amazement at the peaks of the house he built with his two hands. I don't want to hear his words through tiny metal holes and feel the things I never understood. My dreams feel empty without warmth and comfort at the end of the day. I have a call back for an HBO series tomorrow and I still want to be back in the suburbs making silly mistakes. Some things never change.

I miss you empty and dry in the old black car raining through the windows You looked at me better then You watched me sleep then That was before I was pregnant with you, your mommy, your rock, You filled up my belly, my mind, my heart How can I ever let go now? I love you when I see your art When I feel it, hear it, the words you shared with others and never with me You would hate everything I do now is that why you can't speak? coward. And I don't think of you when I'm backstage, I don't think of how you'd be embarrassed of me dancing, say I'm making stupid decisions, acting like my mother I won't ever think of you while I'm living my life separate of ours I mean yours. But sometimes I lay on the futon and I hear your breath silly words you'd wrap around me say from across the van captain sir, you're in charge now, nothing holding you back except unanswered messages the words of dead stars dirty socks left on your...

I remember nights I would come home and find her in a smokey room, barely covered by underwear and a tight t shirt, tear stained and more beautiful than ever. I could see the scene as soon as I pushed my way through the front door, too many bags in my hand, flustered from a long day at work. I could hear her playing, could see the violin under her perfectly sculpted chin in my mind, the notes were all long and beautiful. They carried me towards her; I floated through the kitchen, opened the sliding doors into the large living room and towards the long table where she'd sit. She would continue to play for a moment as though I wasn't standing there and finally, falter. "Fuck," she would say out loud, throwing her arm down and spinning to see me. I would always tell her it was beautiful, she was so talented, she should continue to play even when she made mistakes. Once she felt comfortable she would crumble, like a building being taken down by a demolition team. I would ...

“ There is nothing you can see that is not a flower; there is nothing you can think that is not the moon. ” — Matsuo Basho There are two very important images that reoccur in my life, the flower and the moon, One blooms in the sunlight, one comes out in the darkness. These are the two parts of me and consequently I have found these parts in two humans. There is so much beauty in the world. Yesterday I went on two auditions and took part in a live performance in Manhattan. I am living my dreams. I have the best roommates, I am having the time of my life and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Silence in the building it is never quiet enough. Truck drives by in the street, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out faster, a cough. the shower leaks a drop at a time foot steps on the slanted wood floor, close the bathroom door too loudly. someone walking up the fourth flight mumbling in the next room "I never saw the..." grumble grumble drip drip inhale exhale inhale exhale plug my ears it sounds like summer in here crickets are singing to me and i see your face in the full moon light tomorrow is an empty day and you will leave again, further than before I'll swallow this pill.

This morning I sit on a pulled out futon, strong coffee in a Mickey Mouse mug steams beside me and the  bathroom light shines strongly. This is my first morning in Manhattan, officially. I slept a bit longer than I wanted to but what else is new. I woke this morning to Sam at the sink brewing coffee in her pajamas, "Do you want any?" she asked as I forced open sleepy, sandy eyes. And I, of course, said no thanks, I'll go back to sleep for 40 more minutes. Two hours later I finally awoke, made coffee of my own, and here I sit, extremely excited for my interview with Anthropologie at the Chelsea Market at 1, curious about thrift stores in the surrounding area, dying to hear about Sam's first day at her dream nanny job. Adele is singing through the speakers in my laptop and as her soulful voice serenades me about true love an overwhelming feeling of joy,  maybe excitement, slowly fills up my stomach. I feel it begin in my toes, it shoots up my legs easily and begins t...

I am feeling older and older all of the time, lonely when I think of your mouth and her fingertips on windowsills writhed when I know the truth what is a grave blanket? where did everything go I am listening to songs on repeat Okay, self get out of the shower now the world is waiting out there stop selling yourself imaginary scenarios time to open your eyes dry off back to the warmest february in ages. I am saying goodbye to home for the last time