1. someone grabbed my leg on the subway. in the station, i mean. on the stairs. at broadway junction.
2. i was walking downstairs while a lot of other people were walking upstairs. i was wearing a short dress. it was very warm. a man extended his arm as we passed each other and he gripped his fingers around my thigh. i turned around, disgusted, and then got swept away in the human traffic. i saw he was small, chubby, white, wearing a hat. i told obd about it, once we were out of the crowd. he told me that he was sorry. i felt sorry too.
3. i went quiet for a while. imagining fingers on thigh. fingers on everything. my fingers penetrating that man’s eyeballs and not feeling sorry.
4. i have become so guarded against all types of physical and sexual danger, that i can’t remember how to feel sexy even when it’s safe, sometimes. have you ever known this feeling? or something like it? do you know when can i learn to relax? or if i can.
5. there is no structure to these fragments. they are just a few of the things that have happened to me lately. or i might have happened to them. or maybe we couldn’t help but all move along together. this is the trajectory of the narrative of new york. i’m just kidding?
6. throw your body around in the same ways that i do and try to keep all of the feelings in.
7. i am this woman who lives out of a tiny suitcase.
8. at MoMA P.S.1, there is an exhibition of works by james lee byars. it includes an installation titled, ‘the ghost of james lee byars. it is simple. it is a pitch-black empty room which you have to walk across, without explanation. i found it exhilarating. we walked through it three separate times, obd and i, in between seeing byars’ other works.
a) the first time we walked through, we didn’t understand what was going on. we opened the curtains and we stepped into the darkness, holding on to each other. we could hear other people somewhere, laughing and clicking their fingers. we walked forwards, and quickly, trying to find a way out. through the darkness, i sensed panic running through his body and then the panic ran into me too. i gripped my fingers around his forearm and soon we had made it all the way across the room and through some other curtains. we stepped back into the light and we were both laughing.
b) we stood in the middle of the room, kissing and touching each others’ bodies for a while. at some point, another person flashed their phone light for a split second and then everything changed. as we left again, i felt secret and high, but the room felt different now that i had seen its layout for a brief moment. exposed.
c) we entered from opposing doors. we met in the middle. i said his name out loud, nervously. he laughed. (so it becomes all about trust). he was sitting on the floor. i sat beside him. we held hands and watched as other people opened the curtains. we witnessed their shadows blending into the darkness. we clicked our fingers intermittently in an attempt to scare newcomers in the same way we had been scared by other people. after a while, the darkness itself became underwhelming and we left the room. afterwards i had a small headache.
9. we joke sometimes about the ‘profound experiences of art’ mentioned often in ben lerner’s ‘leaving the atocha station’. when i asked obd if he had had one, he told me ‘i had seven,’ and then paused and then smiled and then added, ‘like a woman’. i laughed and shook my head, and then smiled too. PEoA.
10. the feeling of being picked up by a huge wave and then the feeling of having your body slammed into the sand, while your brain is still trailing afterwards. i like that feeling.
11. adding lime juice to just about anything makes it taste fresher.
12. the german word for whale is Wal.
13. in german, nouns are capitalized.
14. the german word for herbivore is Pflanzenfresser.
15. the german word for poetry is Dichtkunst.
16. i mean, it’s kind of funny.
17. i didn’t tell everybody this yet but we decided we are moving to berlin. soon.
18. the ingénue is a stock character in literature, film and a role type in the theatre; generally a girl or a young woman who is endearingly innocent and wholesome. the term comes from the feminine form of the french adjective ingénu meaning “ingenuous” or innocent, virtuous, and candid. the term may also imply a lack of sophistication and cunning
19. of course, no one can afford to be that.
— A.A. Milne (via thatkindofwoman)
home, august 2014