Archive for NY

I heart Cary Tennis.

Posted in paris with tags , , , on January 9, 2013 by ana

Cleaning my computer I came across one of his columns saved many, many years ago. Given the decisions (going to New York) and the changes (a fresh new set of uncertainties) ahead it seemed apropos to post it below.

Dear Pond Jumper, 

Isn’t it strange how you can fly somewhere and suddenly that’s where you live? We just end up places. It’s the modern condition. I don’t think we’ve adjusted yet, as a species — the way we’re wired, that is. Yes, there are bureaus and agencies to administer the shifting accounts of nationality and wealth, of telephone number and e-mail address; yes, the you@your.e-mail.abode is a borderless fiction of zero gravity that moves with you nearly at the speed of light. But what we used to call a person — not so much the body itself, which can move in and out of its cultural crosshairs, but the location of the being defined by intersecting lines of family, history, soil, trade, the sets, unions and subsets of attributes and proclivities, the smells you smelled as a child and the smells your grandfather smelled as a child, all that: It was thus for so long a given that maybe we didn’t even think to place a high enough price on the geographic and temporal circumstances that define who we are, and then our easy, automatic sense of rootedness, of connection, of belonging, slipped away so quietly and so fast we couldn’t quite remember what it was supposed to feel like. And now we move to Paris and what we say about the view is, it’s the view that you saw in that movie. 

I’m always getting the question wrong. I wish that were part of my charm. Maybe if I were French, it might be part of my charm. But I’m American and I’m afraid my obliqueness comes across like a failure of manhood, something maybe they have a pill for in the drugstore. Besides, you’re not looking for some faux-Gallic take on things, are you? You’re looking for good-old fashioned American advice. 

Well, OK. How do you organize your identity now that you’re in exile? The best way, it seems to me, is by defining a purpose and a duration for the accomplishment of that purpose. Why are you in Paris? What do you mean to accomplish there? Is it only to have lived there? Is it only to smell the bread every day, to eat the food, hear the music of the language, feel the exquisite lightness of an ancient civilization and emulate it, absorb it, take it in like a culture vitamin? So how long, would you say, would that take? A year? Two years? Five? Put a time on it and then say, “This is what I am doing in Paris.” 

You need to construct a narrative. You need to be able to say something like, “I am living in Paris with my boyfriend but I only plan to stay here three years, and I will visit my family every year for two weeks.” Or you could say, “I am living in Paris because I prefer the pain of France to the pain of America, especially the delicate little pastries.” 

There are various reasons to be someplace. They don’t all have to be well-thought-out. You could say, “I like the air in Paris and for that reason I intend to remain, at least until the air in America improves.” Or you could say, “I am only here for an adventure; my home is in America, where my family and friends are, and where I grew up, and I intend to return there before the decade is out.” 

Do you see what I mean? You need a mission statement, as it were, so you can explain yourself to yourself and to others. Here are some other possibilities: “I am enjoying Paris, but since I cannot work here, I do not plan to stay indefinitely.” Or, “I am going to return to America for an education in international relations, after which I hope to return to Paris as a special attaché to the diplomatic corps.” Or, “I plan to stay here and study, raise a family, marry my boyfriend, and become a French citizen.” 

I came to San Francisco on a whim and stayed for the air and the beer. 

Perhaps Paris is for you like one of those things one must do before dying. If so, when you have done it, you will have to figure out what to do next. That can be a tough one if doing the next thing involves leaving the boyfriend. But that’s the way life goes. (That sounds at least a little French, doesn’t it?)

 

Posted in 37 with tags on July 16, 2011 by ana

Before I left on my trip my expectations, my desire was to have a quintessential summer experience the likes of which I have been lucky to have a few times in my life. Full of saunter, chemistry, and good conversation. Idyllic, utterly unsustainable and unforgettable. Transitioning from this type of experience back to everyday life has never been easy for me. When they are over I long to wrap them around me like a thin blanket you would nap on the grass with.

So after a week full of cooking and wine, of good conversations with new faces, and of sweet unexpected lust that clings to my skin and desperately wants to burrow itself deeper I found myself in Napoli with my family repeating the words, the mantra I have been saying for the past year- surrender, surrender, surrender.  Surrender to the moment without trying to name it, qualify it or quantify it. Surrender because there is a current that is carrying you and you don’t yet know where it is taking you.

And surrender I have. In the storage room at work because it is far better to turn into a puddle amidst the spices and the farro and the sugarcubes than to cry in the middle of a busy restaurant. Surrender after stolen kisses in PR and NY left me wanting more of something that was not mine to have. Surrender when it’s time to leave and you want more than anything to stay but can’t. Surrender when you (and this is a first) secretly hope you are pregnant because you are so itchy to see what would happen if you had to jump in and be the very best you could be with basically a stranger because you now feel that in any relationship there are no guarantees so this could have as much chance as anything else of working.

While I was in Italy it felt as if I would not be able to write about my trip for a while but at seven in the morning I’m wide awake on Cleo’s bed in Brooklyn, and I walk to the corner for a coffee and the words start rumbling. The first word is resplendant because that’s how I felt the whole week as if shining from within. I’m seduced by Italy’s generosity, by what he has created in his home, by his library, by his intelligence and strong sense of design, by the way his face morphs from serious and stern to happy and excited, and because something about him reminds me of Michael Pollan. And because I’m me I’m sure I’m also seduced by his unavailability, by the sheer preposterousness of it all. After all there are vast amounts of land and ocean between us. After all this is a 41 year old man who has never been married- if that doesn’t have emotional unavailability written all over it… But I feel so much tenderness in my heart and my body for this man, and a strange fearless desire to fall forward into the experience of him  We talk about art, about food, about love and the rolling around on his faded aqua sheets performs a small chiropractic adjustment on my body and soul. I wake up in his bed my last morning there knowing that I’m done licking my wounds, that I’m done cocooning myself at my cousin’s house.

Italy says to me, “you and I we will never be friends.”

And I say to Italy “but we already are”.

To which he replies, “you and I will never be friends.”

“I guess we just have different definitions of the word,” I say because how can someone who helps push you forward not be your friend.

Italy says, “I’m not happy you are leaving.” But does that mean he is sad I won’t be there?

The loveliness of it all fills my head up with fantasy and my body with longing and unfulfilled desires all of which would be very un-ladylike of me to mention here. All of them but one- to spend a quiet night on his bed, our limbs entangled, watching a film projected on his wall.

When I was planning my trip a few months ago I had wanted to stop in New York on my way back to LA for three reasons. One was to see the man I have  been lusting over all year. But in the past months I lost interest. Unavailability without hope of attainability can quickly become boring. Still, I did think of him as I passed his office on my way to meet Cleo for lunch at Ino, and a bit of me hoped I would bump into him. I have spun a lot of fantasy around this man.

So here I am in New York and my internal compass spins and spins, and I want for it to stop, like a bottle, and point me in the direction of the next place I will kiss. Will it be NY? Will I live here again?

This morning sitting on Cleo’s couch looking out the fire escape at sky, and trees, and red brick I realized that it doesn’t really matter where I go. What I’m after is a place or rather a state of mind, and I already have it. I always have. I just didn’t know. And Italy, it gave me the knowledge that I’m ready again for love. Big, deep, intimate, messy love that is present and has room for all my feelings. A love that is a collaboration. A love that loves me up.

The last night at the cooking school we had a party. There was an English man there, the partner of this smart, quirky tour guide we had spent a morning with. When he was asked where his ball and chain was he shook his head and laughed. “No she is my freedom,” he said.  “She is my freedom.”

A while back I asked Stevie, “Will I fall in love again? When will I fall in love again?”

“When you know what you want,” she said.

Well, I know what I want. I want a man who feels I am his freedom.

PR / NY / LA

Posted in 37 with tags , , , , on May 16, 2011 by ana

Why do I feel guilty when I wake up late? This is something that annoys me about myself. There is no reason I should feel this way, specially on the mornings after I worked late, but I do. It’s one of those things that ties along with how difficult it can often be to be kind to yourself. I meant to wake up at eight and go to a workout class but instead slept ’til ten. I was so tired when the alarm went off, and I felt congested and groggy. It’s allergy season, well it’s always allergy season in LA because something is always in bloom. Whatever is blooming right now is not my friend.

Friday, Stevie and I watched Modern Girls and drank Gin & Tonics. Gin has never been my thing but the drinks she made were so yummy and refreshing that I think I’ve had a change of heart. Modern Girls was one of my favorite movies when I was twelve. When I was growing up there was a video store on the corner of my dad’s street. We could rent movies there and they would bill my dad later. From sixth grade until about ninth grade I would rent five or six movies every weekend. Often I would rent the same movies every weekend. In Puerto Rico at the time there was little access to a lot of music and stuff that wasn’t completely mainstream. Cassettes that had been copied two or three times would pass from friend to friend but for some reason video stores often carried a bunch of really cool stuff. I rented Sid & Nancy, Liquid Sky, Suburbia, Dogs in Space and Mondo NY from that store along with a lot of other eighties movies. Modern girls was one of those movies that I would watch over and over again. All those movies, along with some other things, I think contributed to why I am somehow not exactly, fully typical puerto rican. Of course, that’s all changed now. You can get anything on the internet. It’s funny to go home and see a girl wearing a shirt with Siouxsie Sioux’s face. That would have been such a prize for any of my friends.

Saturday, I went to the beach for a friend’s birthday. Before heading there I stopped to buy some little cakes and sweet treats at a bakery. I left my bag on the counter when I realized I hadn’t put any coins in the meter and ran out to put some money in. So I think it’s official- any drop of New York blood left in me has now been sucked out by LA. Not too long ago Milly and I had stopped to get coffee before going on a hike and as we were walking out I pointed to a table where someone had left a lovely Prada bag and an ipad while they odered coffee or went to the bathroom. “Can you imagine if someone did that in NY,” I said to Milly. “Her stuff would get swiped right away. Who leaves their stuff laying around like that?” The answer is me.

I headed west a little aghast. The drive through Malibu Canyon was beautiful and endless. I think I’ve been to the beach six times since I moved here, usually because someone who is visiting wants to go, and that may be why. Well, I also have this aversion to the beach in California because it feels too cold to me. From the time that I was three until I was ten I lived two streets away from the beach in Puerto Rico, and the water is very warm there. But I love the ocean, and it seems silly to live so close and never go. When I lived in Brooklyn I would sometimes take the train to Coney Island just to sit in the sand and look at the water.

An empty handed leap

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on April 25, 2011 by ana

There have been lots of ups and downs this week. Plus, I’ve gained a little weight which never helps make anyone feel great. Add that to the ten pounds I’ve been wanting to shed forever but I’m never disciplined or committed enough to do. It’s frustrating. There is no better example of my lack of follow through that I can think of than that. It becomes a vicious, obsessive cycle I never break from. But I think it can be approached another way. Not dieting or exercising every single day. But taking dance classes, meditating, and eating mindfully. It all comes back to the same struggle that holds me back from all the things I want- being present, being in my body, being more in touch with my emotions and less in my head and not giving up.

After a weekend of work, wine, and therapy I woke up late today feeling blue. I keep telling myself- there will be a point later on where this moment in your life will make better sense, where you will see how everything worked itself out. Right now I don’t see it at all. I just keep showing up. I just keep getting up and dusting myself off because there is no other option. I don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. Even though I know there is one and that it is closer than I think. I don’t know how anything is going to work out- where I will end up living, if I’ll meet someone else and fall in love, if I will find a new job and/or career that will be creatively and financially fulfilling. I am so over being a waitress. It has been a great job in so many ways. It has given me lots and lots of time to take acting classes, to write, to explore anything that interests me. There is no other job I can think of that gives you good money for the amount of time you invest in it. No other job you can leave behind at the end of the day. I’ve also become a better cook working there. I’ve learned to make a perfect omelet and hack apart a chicken. But I’m done, I don’t want the gossip, the erratic personalities. I don’t want to wait because that is what it feels like in a sense, like life is on pause somehow.

Last night I dreamt that I was looking for a way to get an apartment in New York. For as much as I want to be back east I’m also scared of moving back to New York. I know I don’t have to decide today but I know that the thought is always there. Even my unconscious mind is preoccupied with it. A few days ago I thought- I will know, when the time is right, I will know. I got this feeling that things would be different in the fall around my birthday. I want to walk with that feeling. I want that confidence, that faith. Maybe my friend Vanessa is right. “Trust in the universe right now. I really, wholeheartedly,think this is the precipice to a transformation for you.” I know what she says is true but what do I have to do to feel that way in the days when I don’t quite feel it? Nicki once said to me, “the bird trusts itself to the wind.” I took a leap and now I must just trust. I guess is not a matter of knowing but believing.

Summer girls

Posted in 37 with tags , on April 3, 2011 by ana

It may be April but everything around here says summer. The air has a green, grassy scent to it, the sky is bright blue, and the days are warm if not downright hot. Summertime has always been enchanting to me- the long days stretching into night, the slower rhythm, all the time spent outside be it drinking cocktails with friends on a terrace, sitting at the Hollywood Bowl, watching an outdoor movie or going for a walk for no other purpose than to enjoy the late afternoon. No one in my life has embodied that more than my friend Kate. There is something about her, whenever I’m around her, I just want to slow down even more and take in all the magic, all the details around me.

Last time I saw Kate I was in New York for a few days. We had breakfast in Fort Greene. We ate toasted baguettes with avocado and caught each other up. It had been years since I had seen her but ours is the kind of friendship that you can pick up right where you left it. Those are the best kind.

Kate and I worked together in Williamstown and became friends walking to the local swimming hole on hot days. Pretending to be mermaids gliding, laughing, floating in the cold water. Our friendship cemented lying in the grass looking at the sky telling each other stories of older men we were intrigued by as girls, taking pictures inspired by Cindy Sherman photographs while laying next to oddly lit Louise Bourgeois eye sculptures, and making up stories about a house we had passed on a walk that had five huge black birds circling its roof.

The other day someone at the restaurant said, “I love listening to people’s voices when they are recorded.” I remembered Kate had this tape recorder the summer we met. She would bring it out while we sat outside the local pub on plastic lawn furniture drinking beer and tape whoever was sitting around. At the end of the summer we came back to New York. I was getting ready to move to LA and was staying with my boyfriend in Chelsea but I was always over at Kate’s. We would walk her dog in the hot muggy afternoons, get iced coffees, and buy tomatoes and cheese for dinner. Her brownstone overlooked a beautiful garden that belonged to a parish. One night I stayed over and slept in her father’s old office. She gave me one of the tapes she had recorded to listen to as I fell asleep. I loved falling asleep, amidst her dad’s books, listening to the hum of all the voices. It felt comforting, like being seven and falling asleep while listening to all the adults at your mom’s dinner party.

If I move back to New York will life be like my friendship with Kate? Swiftly picked up right where it was left.

I’ve been restless lately. It is a restlessness I associate with being single or really more like not having a partner in crime. I called Cleo on my way to dance class. When I talk to her it feels like I will move back to New York. I haven’t made my mind up yet but sometimes I feel a pull to go back. It is as strong as the pull I felt nine years ago to leave.

Posted in breakfast with tags , , on March 29, 2011 by ana

I found a Kate Bush CD in a box yesterday and it’s been on in my car non-stop. It has been years since I listened to Hounds of Love. Everything about it is perfection-the photograph on the cover, the theatricality of the songs, and how personal each feels. At the beginning of a song she says: I put this moment here. And it felt so apropos. That is how everything feels right now.

Up to this point I have been listening to Florence and the Machine steadily. I don’t know where I would be without Florence keeping me company during this period of my life. I love when music does that, when it carries you through, when it makes you buoyant no matter what you are going through.

Milly and I had breakfast this morning at this pretty place around the corner from me called Olive & Thyme. With its white walls lined with honey and cookbooks, the subway tiles, and the long refurbished-wood communal table it looks like something I imagine would be in the Hampton’s, I’ve never been, or like a small Joan’s on Third. Milly and I shared a yummy cheddar, egg, and bacon panini and a bowl of berries with Greek yogurt and honey. She looked gorgeous. Her hair was big and curly. She wore skinny, light-grey pants with a big cream sweater coated with silver paint, a blush shrug, and bright orange flats. We gabbed about clothes, work, how much we miss New York and what it would be like to move back. Would we be able to bring back with us that calm, easy, loveliness LA brings to our lives or would it be all out, out, out. Eating out, meeting people out for drinks, and coveting every last beautiful thing.

I saw these photographs online of this beautiful two bedroom apartment on Elizabeth street. Unrealistic as it may be that is where I want to be, that is where I would like to be. To walk out my front door and get a coffee at Cafe Gitane, eat the little Belgian chocolate they give you with it and go about my day.

It would be really hard to give up what I have in LA. Specially the long, lovely breakfasts I have with friends. Milly said, “lets have a quick weekend getaway see our friends and the Alexander McQueen show.”

“If I stop spending money like it grows on trees then, yes, let’s getaway.”

There is a song by David Byrne and Brian Eno, Strange Overtones, that has been playing at the restaurant a few times a night. In the song the narrator hears the person next door working on a song. The song makes me miss NY- hearing what others are doing around you. Creating, being creative is very different in New York and in Los Angeles. Here there is more nature, you can easily recede and find a calmness. New York is about the opposite, about the energy outside your door, an inescapable energy. Strange Overtones reminds me of when I lived on Claremont Avenue off of 125Th street in a building very close to the Manhattan School of Music. Someone played the cello all day and it would waft through building beautifully. I loved that. I crave that.

NYC Seranade

Posted in friends with tags on February 28, 2011 by ana

Took a short trip to NY. Still here, actually. I can’t sleep. I have really bad allergies. Or is it a cold? Or is it a sinus thing? I don’t feel horrible but I don’t feel great. It hasn’t stopped me from having a great time. Still, I’ve been craving this. I miss the writing. I also miss the dance classes and the workouts back home. I miss the feeling they leave me with- the moving, the shaking, the sweatiness of it. I was thinking about it in bed before I got up to write.

This year is all about me. I don’t feel like I can make any decisions about anything in the future. Right now I just want to be a bit of a hermit, I want to be cocooned, I want to dive in to me. If I were a book right now my title could be Write, Sweat, Sleep. Because that is really all I want to do with a little reading thrown in. Not that I haven’t enjoyed going out, I have, but I’m craving something else right now.

Should I read Eat, Pray, Love? Would it speak to me? Is it cheesy to read it now because I’m going through a break up? I had no interest in that book before. Am I more interested in it now because I’m writing this? The thought of reading it also intimidates me for that reason. But then the other day I thought- Bill Cunningham took amazing photographs of street fashion way before Scott Schuman did but that doesn’t make The Sartorialist any less fabulous and wonderful to look at. Each thing has its own value.

So, it’s not only this sinusy-allergy thing that’s been keeping me up. Now a days when I start thinking too much about the future I panic. This is not the usual me. I have always been a planer. But that just feels so wrong right now. For as much as I know that I will have to make some decisions about my future at some point, that I can’t stay at my cousin’s forever, that I need to forge a better career than the lovely hodge-podge I do right now of waitressing, writing, translating, and auditioning. I also know I am exactly where I need to be and things will change when they are supposed to. I have to remind myself of that A LOT. This moment, this new chapter of my life is all about staying present and showing up. That is the only thing that I really want and need right now. That is where I am at.

It has been incredibly satisfying to be in NY. There was someone I really wanted to see during my trip that I may regret not seeing but the timing is not right. NY has been perfect as it has been. Sunny, chilly, but not, to my relief, as cold as I imagined it would be. The highlights have been spending lots of time with Coco, spending the day with my little sister, and seeing an old friend, an old love, who I had lost touch with. There were a couple of days of heavy, NY drinking, and some sweet, sexy kisses with a friend of a friend.

I also went to The Breslin a few times. It may be my favorite new bar even if they had Arcade Fire on heavy rotation and I almost fell apart telling Coco how Leo and I listened to them all through out our break up. And how the night we went to see their show I knew in my heart we were done and I cried almost the whole night. That night may have been the hardest night of my life. I was standing next to him, and I knew how much I loved him, and I knew that we wouldn’t be together for much longer. I knew that night that he would never choose me and that I had to go. Just thinking about it makes me cry.

So will I move back to NY? I don’t know. There was a moment when I was getting breakfast with my sister at Veselka that I saw myself moving back. But I also love LA so much. I just don’t know.

things to hold on to, things to let go

Posted in koreatown with tags , on February 17, 2011 by ana

Little by little I’m starting to create a meditation practice. Because it is something so new to me I have been exploring it in different ways. Yesterday, I went to a class at a dance studio that I love. Every Wednesday they have an hour long practice in which they explore different meditations. One of the meditations we did was for concentration and it has really stayed with me. We focused on a candle without attaching any story for eleven minutes. It always amazes me how long I think it’s going to feel and how quickly times passes.

There is this man in NY who I’m really attracted to. He is completely unavailable and 3,000 miles away. But he pops into my head out of nowhere and makes me swoon. It is really easy for me to attach a story to this attraction because I have known him for over twenty years. I catch myself giving meaning to this new found gravitational pull but I should just take it in like the candle.

The koreatown apartment is like that too. It haunts me. I try to wrap my head around it. I walk through its rooms like a ghost. I create a story- I see the dishes in the sink, the bottle of rum on the table, the wilted birthday orchid, the cupboards filled with rice, spices, and vinegars I’ve bought, everything just sitting there quietly telling a story full of dinner parties and birthdays and friends over for drinks, of days and nights filled with writing and laughing and kissing and fighting. But oregano is just oregano even if I bought it and left it there. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a jar on a shelf.

Later that night I had a brief email exchange with an old friend who was my lover for a short period of time. We always had the craziest chemistry and I adored him. Still do. I don’t think we would have ever been day to day compatible but I always think of him. I haven’t talked to him in years but I know that he is married, and in a photograph I saw he looks happy, radiant and in love.

At the end of my email I wrote- I think of you always-because I do. And he wrote back and said- I think of you so often too. That just blew my mind away. How much we had touched each others lives. No story. Though there was one. No story just the feeling that life could be so strangely beautiful and at once eternal and ephemeral.

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on January 19, 2011 by ana

Last night I sat in my car and talked for an hour with an old friend. We talked about New York and Puerto Rico- what it would be like to move back to either place. In some ways I am certain I will move even if I feel uncertain about it. I love LA. If you give this city a chance it opens up before your eyes. It’s magic is the everyday kind which is the most special kind. It’s the smell of jasmine and the streets lined with purple Jacaranda trees in spring, the constant battle of nature vs. concrete, the canyons in the middle of the city, the snowy mountains at a distance when it’s seventy degrees in the city, and the desert so close by, and the old ladies that were once probably starlets, and Jumbo’s Clown Room, and twenty-four hour Korean Spas. Maybe I’ve read to many Francesca Lia Block novels. Last night I slept over at my friend’s house and when I left this morning and stepped out on to Beachwood I just had the most overwhelming love for the city. Maybe I just love cities. New York used to fill my heart with joy. Simply just being there was also witchy.

I miss Leo. He sent some of my mail and put a chocolate bar with it. I know he’s being sweet. I know he misses me. I know leaving was the right thing but I do really, really miss the constant joy I felt the last six years- give or take a dozen fights and all the crying I did before I left.

On the phone last night my friend mentioned that a mutual friend I’d had a romp with was engaged. All but one of the rascally boys I dated between my previous ex and Leo have gotten married or are about to. It doesn’t mean anything. I know whatever is right for me will come when it’s supposed to but the irony is not lost on me.

My three dads

Posted in joie de vie with tags , on October 19, 2010 by ana

Somewhere amidst the doom and gloom I have found this small pocket of internal happiness. Maybe it’s just that feeling that no matter what everything is going to be okay.

Yesterday, I had lunch with my cousin. We went, as we did last year for my birthday, to Pinot Bistro. In many ways it felt like we were in the restaurant scene of a movie- the large flower arrangements, the crisp white tablecloths, the dark wood paneling and the mirrors along the wall. Two different sets of posh ladies ate to our sides. The older set had burgers, the younger one salads. An elegant older woman sat at one end of the restaurant only to find out, after waiting for awhile, that her lunch date, a dapper senior, was waiting for her tucked away at another table.

I always enjoy lunch with my cousin immensely. In this crazy, twisty life I have been blessed with three men who have treated me like their daughter. The first, my real dad-a man whose company and conversation I very much enjoy. My stepdad who was one of my number one champions and whose joyful voice when answering the phone I dearly miss. My cousin has been the third.

My cousin has lived in LA all of my life and I only saw him once or twice growing up. He and my mom grew up in adjoining houses and she always told me stories about them growing up but I never really knew him before I moved here. I spent two years living at his house. Those two years were really lovely and healing for me. I moved here from NY a year after September 11th and there was this sweet, overwhelming feeling of being tucked away while I lived with him. He is the man who always asks about my tires and the breaks in my car. He is the man who put locks in the window of my old Hollywood apartment.

Today at lunch he said- I think you are going to end up leaving LA. I never thought you would because the man you love was here but if that ends you may leave. I wont lie that thought has popped in my head a lot lately. Would I go home? What would I do there? Open a bakery with my dad? Or would I go back to NY. Maybe I would just stay put.

The thought of not seeing my cousin regularly for lunch made me very sad. I very much enjoy talking about our family and about books and films with him. His dad and my grandma where brother and sister. Since my grandmother passed away earlier this year no one is left of that generation. My grandmother was a feisty woman with an incessant joie de vie. I know I have her spirit of perseverance and that is perhaps what is inside that pocket of happiness.