May 29, 2012


It's Tuesday but it doesn't feel like Tuesday but it doesn't feel like Monday or Wednesday so I'm not entirely sure I know what day it feels like. I do know I'm feeling quiet and at abnormal peace with things today despite feeling like life's realities are dunking me under and I'm running out of breath. I'm scared and hoping for recovery from the typical life stuff that can tend to beat us up over time. But I'm not here to cry over it. I'm listening to Neutral Milk Hotel radio (station I created) on Pandora in a quiet apartment (no Johnny just yet tonight) and am reflecting over the emails the boy and I exchanged today. Of course. :)

The communication lines were wide open today - to the point that he reflected on some recent occurrence with his ex-girlfriend, with whom he had hoped he could stay friends, that didn't work out, but a recent occurrence (email) prompted them to meet for coffee last week. See here is why I proceed with caution...these types of baggage items that hang in the balance. But who am I to speak - my luggage weighs just over ten years!

But he was extremely frank and offered that perhaps it was awkward that he was telling me this? And I of course like, no no no...and in fact replied:

I think we've managed to be fairly forthright and honest about just about everything since we met, yes? That's positive. And refreshing - seriously.

Which I believe so far in its entirety. Anyway, he went on to explain to me that their platonic conversation went well but that she fell of the face of the earth again a day or so after they met up. And now he feels like he has to bury her again. And he's disappointed but he also called her volatile so I suppose something in her current situation is causing her to be such.

Then there was this:

I don't know how late you're working tonight; I assume for a while. If you wanted to catch up for a moment at all around Union Square soon, I'd be glad to. But no expectations and it's all good either way.

Him, to me. While 99% of me and some change wanted nothing more in the world to do so, I felt as though I should come home and be quiet and write for a while, listen to music, be alone. But I did offer to drift about with him after the Lit Crawl Volunteers meeting at Solas tomorrow. He's not feeling overly social and would rather duck out of the meeting but asked me if I'd like to "meet independently" following the Lit Crawl meeting to which I said yes, of course. 

And I said to him this:

Think nice thoughts. Like about how you'll be making room in your walk-in cooler for seltzer water on your island.

Which is a very funny conversation we had while he lay on his couch with his head in my lap looking up at me, completely rearranging my entire idea of "one thing on a desert island" (that particular conversation being about cheese and for some reason he decided it'd be okay if he also got to have seltzer water with his cheese...I explained that that was being greedy. Ha.) And on and on. Whatever we talk about, whether over email or in person, puts a fairly major smile in the cavity of my chest, which has needed that major smile for a long time now.

Enough on this front for the moment. Above pictured is overhead framing and stud wall framing for the Bunker Suites. These spaces have me so strung out. See how that overhead framing is all jagged and weird? Each Suite is shaped like a unique puzzle piece, different from one another. I have glass partitions that get installed in these locations. Oh boy. Could definitely prove to be a construction nightmare.

May 28, 2012


Happy Memorial Day, America. My weekend has somehow flown by and I can touch and feel its quick departure. Friday night I met my new dear friend Dacel at Hop Devil on St. Marks for cheap happy hour and the plot got thick super quick wherein she landed in some asshole guy's bed and shortly thereafter (ugh) he kicked her out...she lost her work laptop along the way. I knew she was slightly drunk but not to that end, and so of course I felt like a complete fuck face when she called me later to tell me all of this. I pleaded with her to come to my apartment where I was sitting on my stoop soaking in the evening and she grabbed a cab and arrived not long after, and we hugged and she cried it out and her pain sat palpable between us. She did not deserve by any stretch of any imagination to be dicked over by this person that we met at Hop Devil that we both felt seemed genuine and kind. Easy to be fooled. He didn't even ask for her number.

Saturday morning found me sleeping glorious amounts of sleep despite the beer the night before. I so rarely drink beer anymore because it gives me night tremors yet I was able to sleep and sleep, a condition I'm experiencing lately that is far more pleasurable than in days far gone. I'm, in fact, relishing in sleep. I'm so at peace, so far removed from my problems, in sleep. Dreams do happen but they hold hands and dance with my peace, so I'm unafraid of this newfound experience of desiring to sleep.

Then there's what happened on Friday.

I'm backtracking slightly, because I didn't begin with the chronology of events correctly. Who cares, right? This is my memory to scribe.

The boy is charismatic and so new to my life but so uncommunicative. I mean this in a general context because I will text and text and email all day long to everyone that I know and love (working in an office enables that luxury, I suppose) but he literally just...doesn't communicate often. I don't know if this is because he works in a tech environment which commits him to an exorbitant amount of tech communication on a silly often basis or what? I already know he isn't a man of few words...not in person, at least.

Anyway, I had been emailing/texting with one of my best friends who was basically like, Don't be foolish, don't lead him to think you're not interested. Clearly I'm interested but maybe I am not making it clear? How does one make this thing clear? Throw myself at him and to what capacity? I was going around in carousel circles in my brain when right before a meeting I needed to run at 10.30 Friday I received an email response from him regarding lots of different things I had emailed but embedded within was this:

If you have the time, would you like to spend some time chatting about the ridiculous things we end up chatting about this weekend? Perhaps with an artisan pizza and a movie? Your choice, of course. Let me know.

I rather nearly slid under my desk in a slushy pile because this inquiry marks literally the first time he has "asked me out." "Date." "That thing people do when they're courting one another." Whatever. And can I just say for the record? The last time I recall being asked on a date...I guess, a "first date"? recall of such a thing. So yes. This felt monumental and sent me soaring into my 10.30 which I was completely ill-prepared to run and couldn't and didn't but sat through and smiled like a giddy child throughout.

Chronologically speaking, let's get back to Saturday then.

There were texts back and forth (he was a texting machine! Unusual! What!) about his venture to visit his Mom in Jersey and his eventual return to New York City. He sent me an image from the farmer's market he was at with his Mom (why are these insignificant details so special to me?? who cares) and at some point he texted that he'd be on the train back to Penn to arrive at 6P and could I meet him at 6.40 at Carroll Street?

Of course. Of course, sweet boy. Ask and your wish shall be granted...

But what happened is for some reason, the skies opened up and dumped gallons upon gallons of rain upon me, for maybe like 20 minutes. So I was 20 minutes late.

I took trains to Brooklyn, transferring, and so forth, and when I emerged at Carroll Street I was listening to "A Case of You" (Joni Mitchell) and was running late but had to finish that song, and so I did. And when I arrived at the intersection of Court and President Streets, where he had texted me to meet him, he took two strides to me and kissed me on the mouth and thus began our "first date," as I'm calling it, regardless of the number of times we've seen each other.

The word "amazing" is clearly overused. Fine. But I don't know what else to borrow in terms of verbiage?

We ate pizza and drank wine, then walked. Talked. Held hands. Noticed each other. He carried my leftovers box. He stopped sometimes, turned to look at me and would say something about anything. We talked about everything (we always tend to do.)

We passed by a wine store, and he said, "Do you want to stop and pick up something, some wine?" and I earnestly didn't want to, and I said, "No, we're okay."

(insert: KB didn't want wine with the movie??? This is basically how intense this is, if she didn't want wine during the movie portion of the date. NOTED!!!!)

We arrived at his apartment, and he has two cats. They are beautiful. They are Phoebe and Emma. Emma, for the record, thinks I'm kick ass. telling what's in her brain - I think she's slightly critical yet I still admire her.) :)

Anyway....we found a movie on his iTV or whatever and started it and he put his arm around me and it felt like I haven't felt in 9 million years. It felt sweet. I think I felt...I wish I knew the words. I think that as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close, I probably felt a romantic devastation that I wish I could explain.

The movie wouldn't complete for technological reasons so we kissed instead. :) But then when the movie really wouldn't start up again he asked me to go to his bedroom with him and I did and we slept for like 4 thousand hours. :)

I would love to document these moments. The ones wherein he would slide his arm over my shoulder and his fingers would find mine and entwine and we'd be one, right then.

Oh. But before we went to sleep, we talked endlessly. We tend to do that. We talked about so many things, desert islands and cheese and seltzer water and other things and I'm not sure if I have ever liked someone this much in so long.

While we slept, while he slept, I couldn't stop thinking about how lucky I am that this has happened. I'm still not placing stock in it because I can't fathom its end and I feel somehow like an end is inevitable.

There was rain, heavy rain. He pulled me close. I fell in love. I think I've fallen in love. Maybe for the first time in my life.

May 24, 2012


                                                    Subway Seat Colored Nail Polish?

It's a quiet Thursday for me and actually a quiet week after the thrill-a-minute adventures with Lit Crawl NYC over the last handful of months and while it feels nice, it also feels slightly hollow (but not to worry, as we're kicking back into gear next week to begin planning for Manhattan's Crawl in September!) I opted for a week off socially (er, except for tomorrow when I meet my new very beautiful friend Dacel for Happy Hour to kick off Memorial Day Weekend - hurray!)

First, I thought I'd begin with an email exchange I had with the recently aforementioned boy earlier today that gave me much needed smiling through the later parts of the afternoon after a strenuous day oh wait, why don't I just be honest, a strenuous week no, month (the word "life" is too broad a stroke to insert although it wouldn't be far off from the truth.)

I was responding to a longer email that he sent me, but much of what he wrote in that is personal so I'll just begin with the final paragraph of his email to which I was replying (note: much of this exchange deals in the fact that he's not an explosive email-respondent the way that I happen to be or the way many of my friends who also can brag desk jobs happen to be...)

How are you, Kristin? How has your week been going so far? (aside from the Lit Crawl "join the cult!" email, which, yes, I saw. :)  )

[taking a much needed break from work to respond and say hi...]
Hi. :)
Your Sunday sounds fantastic and I'm glad you made it to attend. They made a recording of it? Interesting...also, intense? Feel free to you have any other types of sessions/courses/activity lined up soon also? I wish I could find more time for experiences like that. After the Arena opens, surely I'll be under less pressure...? Are there very many question marks in this paragraph?
Yeah, so I did ask you and Daniel to join the cult guided by the fearless Goddess Suzanne. Listen! We need male informants! You two specifically seemed to - to borrow Suz's word - fit "organically" with us. I think things happen for a reason sometimes...not in every instance, so maybe I'm only a half believer of it? But somehow this Lit Crawl experience over the course of 6 or so months has distracted me nicely from rotten other events. She has had me perform odds and ends post-mortem items throughout the week but it isn't the same as the frenetic activity leading up to the event and so in its place, I've been working 11+ hour days this week. It's exhausting. Basically my point is that Lit Crawl this year seems to have happened to me for a reason, yielding positive results, on many levels. Plus, being a part of an organization which manifests an end result of sorts feels, well? Like community? Sure, go with that.
[in re-reading the Lit Crawl paragraph I realize I'm not stating myself very clearly with regard to what I'm trying to express in terms of really finding footing with Lit Crawl but my head is so foggy from work this week that I can't state it any better so that's what you get and you will have to live with it. :) ha] [as well as with any run-on thoughts that might have recently elapsed or may yet in the remainder of this email which I promise, won't be too much longer - it just feels nice not to be shouting at a subcontractor for a few moments or shuffling tiresome paperwork, so there's that.]
My week is alright. The hours are painful. The problem is that meetings and phone calls obstruct my ability to complete paperwork that is to accompany the meetings and phone calls. And then visits to the jobsite can quickly gouge out several hours of the day (I waited an hour and a half out there for a subcontractor who was running stupidly late) and why not go ahead and shower this whole mess with veritable monsoon weather which floods parts of our building that are not completely enclosed...eek. It's a lot. But I'm fairly certain I'm not the only human on the planet with heavy work happening in her hands so really, I can't complain too much.
I had an idea Monday morning and I've managed to make it work this week: take pleasure in simple. Morning coffee. Early bedtimes. That sort of thing. It has helped. :)

Yikes! I just want to respond back to say that I've responded within 8 minutes, even though I haven't had time to read your email yet! Will read and respond with something more... responsive, in due time... :)

But... 8 MINUTES!!!!

Ha star for you!

1 MINUTE!!!!!!!

It's basically IM at this point!

Quick Back and Forth Gmail: the new IM.

Nice weather, huh?

3:29 is a nice time. I'm really looking forward to see what 3:30 brings.

(ok, clearly we're mocking IM'ing at this point, right? Right?)

It's been like 4 minutes and you did not "brb" me.

boy, a while later:
Okay, I dropped the ball! Got dragged into work conversation about glasses and going to the Federal Reserve tomorrow (which we're doing; don't ask; or do ask; asking is totally optional). Now I'm eating carrots.


"Glasses and going to the Federal Reserve."
This is me asking. And drinking pink Gatorade. went on for a few more. He sent me an image from Googling "glasses and going to the Federal Reserve." Etc. Now that I read back over this, I realize that this exchange is completely meaningless to anyone not in this thing, whatever this thing is, that may or may not be going on, but documenting it makes me smile anyway, because if something happens and this remains merely a friendship or evolves into something else or thrives, lives, dies, suffocates, I can look back on these moments wherein I have felt slightly...charmed, I guess. Moved, I'm sure. Relocated to a new position in my brain where there is this olive branch being extended to me from the Universe after so many kicks in the abdomen by it.

I haven't seen him all week and frankly, I'm not sure when I will see him next. But the place we left things last weekend was basically wide open and with options. Communication with him satisfies me just swell for the moment. Like I said, I needed a quiet week and took it. My desire for me time (and his knowledge and acceptance that I desire it) is of utmost significance to me at this time.

Still. Photographs were posted somewhere of Lit Crawl and there was another one of him that I saw and it brought the smallest butterflies flapping their pretty wings...small, I mean just hatched more than a 1/2" wingspan :)

We'll see. I'm not overly alarmed about forward motion with him right now. Days must be taken one at a time for me, right now. I'm dealing with too many spinning plates (shattered ones, pieces flying all askew everywhere and taking with them shards of shattered me and scattering them in corners of rooms) so timing of this might be right or might be wrong. I need some long lead time on the Good Me, the Fulfilled Me, the Epic Me, to be delivered. I require time to adhere together these shattered pieces of me back together. Or maybe I leave those pieces in corners and find new pieces to replace the split open ones.

Still. Having so much that I want to say to him and to hear him say is a really nice feeling.

Life things from this past week:
So. much. rain.
Johnny - he's the best roommate, ever.
Slicing mushrooms for pasta the other night.
Finding out that "Somebody That I Used to Know" is not only a Gotye song but is also an Elliott Smith song long before Gotye's time (annoying, slightly) (don't steal an idea from ES, you Australian songwriter, unless crediting my boy Elliott.)
Dirty Dancing is soothing no matter what scene, no matter what hour you watch it, no matter who is with or not with you when you watch it...nobody puts Baby in a corner!
Morning coffee,
Early communicated to the boy: these are important.

I must keep pushing through. :)


May 20, 2012


It is at this point extremely impossible to express what I've been feeling in the past couple of weeks. I'd love to try, but the words won't work and they'll sound unclear and they'll come out like one of those...see? I don't even know.*The above photos depict a date I had with the boy. I guess I'd call it a date. We've not been on one proper so I think I'd call this one one...and my, were my senses overloaded. Look at all the books! And he turned to me at some point and said, "I mean, I guess this is a fire hazard...?" Agreed. But still, so cool. A random bookstore in a random New York corner of the Universe.

I know I said I might be falling in love. And I know that I might be. And it's weird, because I'm completely against anything having to do with anyone else right now. But he exists, and his existence was made known to me, and his eyes are dark and haunting and I guess I don't really know where any of this leads or will it lead but for this moment, I am haunted by his eyes, and maybe I'm falling in love (maybe not.)

He invaded my apartment again last night. He was...

See? I just don't want to say things right now. This could be something, or it could be nothing...or it could be this tornado that neither he or I expected and perhaps we were meant to get caught up in it together or perhaps we were meant to be tossed apart at the bitter end of it and we'll never speak again.

I just love talking to him. I love hearing what he has to say.

May 12, 2012


So I've become obsessed with tile now. Wall tile, floor doesn't matter. I see it everywhere I go. I want to see tile all the time. I know what "lippage" is, I know floor leveling, I know grout and grout colors and Schluter strips and Reno Ramps and I dream of it all (literally) and I basically want tile to be somewhat of a focus of my next chapter in life, regardless of what that next chapter may entail. I think tiling is an art and is for certain something we all take for granted (unless becoming obsessed with it, in which case, well, I notice every tile placement now anywhere and everywhere I go.) So there's that.

Then there is conversation.

Here recently I have met someone (someone I've already mentioned in a previous post) who has inadvertently taught me the fine art of conversation. The fine art of conversation isn't something putting into words can do justice. What a brain burner, right? Conversation consists of words and yet cannot be put into words? I stand by this.

There is this thing that happens when two people who are meant to meet meet. Fine to describe it as an alignment of the stars, I suppose, or call it what you will, but it feels, when you're one of those two people, like the entire world is comprised of nothing but you and that person. The Universe shifts slightly, just slightly, to accept the acquaintance of the two of you. Skies accept it, sidewalks accept it, grass on ground and blooms on trees embrace it and night time, specifically night time, warms to it. I'm experiencing this right now and yet speaking of it so candidly like this intimidates me because I fear its imminent crash just because of how deliberate this feels that this has happened. Apologies for the run-on sentiment.

Suddenly I've been inducted into the art of conversation. I adore people, I always have and will, but I typically tire of exchange after a certain length of time. That isn't to say exchanges I have with others aren't incredible, or beautiful, or lack essence, but there is an expiration often on exchanges and when that is reached, parting ways is inevitable.

Somehow, if this is real and true and has really happened to me, there is this person.

I cannot stop wanting to talk to him. We have yet to have engaged in conversation lasting less than 7 hours, and granted, I've only seen him a grand total of 4 times, which yields an approximate conversation time of 28 hours (although that number is slight, because we've definitely talked far more than that. Case closed.)

Next topic: What do we talk about?

I cannot say. Not because it's private, but because it's broad strokes - every one thing hatches hundreds of new things and next things and life things and heart things and brain things and before you know it we have reached 5 a.m. and we cannot keep talking because sleep is mandatory and we both have jobs.

I guess, to bring it back to Planet Earth, he stayed here the other night. We had been walking and talking for hours around Gramercy Park. He accommodated my need to literally palm every plant poking out of the locked park and he held my other hand while I did so. He told me stories. He watched me and I watched him (that's important.) Then he led me to my stoop and we sat there and were indecisive about the next move.

Kisses are cliche to write about though pertinent to the story.

I finally asked him if he'd like to come upstairs and he smiled and he said yes.

The rest of this story is mine in my own mind and will linger like a very purplish-red (*him) hue in my room, in my presence, in my existence moving forward. I can't believe this has happened to me. Regardless of its possible failure or success.

I will say this: his eyes have a very dark ring around the irises. Haunting. Beautiful. Maybe I am falling in love.

May 04, 2012


I want nothing more than to write about what I'm feeling but the words are so jumbled they'll just come out like a tangled ball of yarn of various colors, incapable of being unwound. So I guess instead I'll just talk freely and hope that things somehow unravel themselves.

I'm involved in this brilliant thing called Lit Crawl. Possibly I've mentioned it before, but the first Brooklyn event is nearing now and we're ramping up to prepare. Not to bore the Internet with details but the Lit Crawl is essentially a Literary Pub Crawl that includes curators, venues, events, bars, literati, yaddyaddy. It's great, and I love being involved.

As a committee member, I act as volunteer coordinator which essentially means that I recruit and monitor the volunteers for the event. It's been going well and I'm blissful and overjoyed to be a part of such a massive event.

Well, this past Monday's meeting (regular meeting) was canceled and moved to Thursday but I had already committed to a few "new" volunteer inquiries that we'd be meeting Monday at Solas (lovely bar in the East Village on 9th) so I decided that in lieu of canceling I would go station myself at Solas for the new recruits, those who would choose to possibly drop by.

Here is where I am going to struggle.

Only one new recruit showed up - a boy, his name which I will now withhold for Internet purposes. He approached me somewhat timidly as I sat at a table with a glass of wine and my iPhone and whatnot, and he asked whether or not I was with Lit Crawl and I was like, Why yes I am. And when he sat down across from me, thus launched, somehow, an entire 7.5 hour-long conversation. I know, Internet. What? (footnote: when I told this to Johnny, Johnny's response: "Jesus. I didn't talk that much in all of April." Ha ha ha! Johnny rocks.)

No other recruits showed up so it was just this boy and me and we somehow managed to drink more wine than Solas should have served and we spoke at lengths about just about everything that could possibly mean anything to either of us. See? I can't even talk about this.

He walked me home. How sweet is that? Completely unwarranted, he lives in Brooklyn and planned to take a cab, but first he walked me home.

While I want to go on...I don't want to finish this story. Not yet. I can't jinx things - I can't turn things into something they may never amount to be. But he did sleep here last night (days later than our first epic-length conversation, yes.) And this morning was quiet and his departure left me feeling somewhat - I mean, we had another incredible time last night and the whole room was filled, no matter at which bar, with just him and me - solemn, quiet, pretty, intent, deliberate.

When I woke up this morning and he was next to me, I didn't flinch, feel awkward, feel awful. I just admired his eyes and watched as he wrapped an arm around me and I slid closer to him and I let him gently run his fingers along the skin on the back of my neck, soft. I didn't want him to leave (I DIDN'T WANT HIM TO LEAVE) which is an incredible accomplishment in the evolution of me and boys.

But, he had to leave...he had a work interview to conduct, and so we'll now see where, if anywhere, this goes. I love the feeling of falling. It feels so real.

Above, more of my Arena. A 4-sided soffit which will be above a bar in that area. Parallel, our lives, our friends, our loves. I know. I'm lame.