amanda and i run over to central park to skateboard and roller-blade. we push uphill and get lost in the winding of the trails and the little lake views. pretending we've been in the forest for years and can't find our way out, we clamber up to strangers begging for advice on how to free ourselves. we try to wheel home but its approximately 2,000 degrees outside and we get yelled at by pedestrians. amanda has a philosophy for life: the world is your playground. that way you always keep the childlike innocence and creativity you had when you were young. we play around in new york city, a big concrete jungle-gym.
in my food controversies class, a girl gets into a fight with the professor and pulls her laptop out, drops the class, and struts out. very powerful energy.
i listen to maggie rogers. someone used to say i reminded her of maggie-so there is a sister fondness there. frank ocean's blonde. this tribute does the job. i must be at least 1,000 of those views. remember spooky black? and of course mac miller. this hyperlink thing is thrilling. okay- i'm over it. next.
i start a ritual. hunting and gathering. going out to walk, always in a different direction. picking up feathers, flowers, pamphlets, and photographs as I go. a checkered tie, an old annotated play, a polaroid of two girls - their faces pressed together and smiling wide. probably sisters, visiting each other in new york. i collect rose petals that someone scattered on a sidewalk, but lose the bag. every morning on my way to class, i pass the adidas store. on the front windows are huge posters of gal gadot, gigi hadid, and nathalie emmanuel. i must say hello to them every time i pass or else my day won't be productive. they are my guardian angels. or maybe the father, son, and holy ghost. ariana grande used to be up there but they switched her out.
a thin line of who is talking to themselves or someone on the fancy new blutooth apple earphones. thin line of me singing outloud as i walk down the street and others doing it. we are all the same. a hare krishna tells me i have 'good energy' just to get me to buy a book but honestly it works.
i have successfully made a frittata. it was delicious. thank you very much. frozen raspberries and honey every night for dessert. need any snyder's honey, mustard, and onion pretzel pieces? cause walgreens has some!
i go out with CK and siobhan and their other wonderful friends. a beautiful italian restaurant. chloe sevigny sits by herself at the bar with a little white clutch perched next to her. justin vivian bond at joe's pub. i laugh so hard and bob my head to her amazing performance. the show is delightful and we walk all the way back to my dorm as it drizzles. my converse stay wet for days. billy comes over and i eat the spiciest noodles ever. my lips turn red and puffy and i have to sit down because i'm sweating so profusely.
finished 'in this dark house,' for spiritual autobiography of course. a girl grows up not knowing she is jewish. always feeling like there is something missing, something her father is hiding from her. when her parents die, she discovers her heritage.
while printers everywhere are evil and i'm sure they are the devices plotting the destruction of the world, the printers at this school are a different branch of evil altogether. they smell fear and react accordingly. only when your paper is due in thirty minutes will they break down. enough about them, they want to be talked about.
a dog photo shoot in washington square park. an indian family singing behind us as we sit in the dried up fountain. everyone around the fountain (but the three of us) are in pairs, in a way that seems like an obvious proof of the matrix.
i cannot with freud's intense and explicit sexual explanations for the human psyche. (btw, starting an all-girl punk band called PENIS ENVY. if anyone is interested, we need a drummer). i much prefer jung- he speaks of the collective consciousness and cell memory.
from 14th to 21st, the road is blocked off in yellow tape and covered in fire trucks, their lights casting the buildings red and blue. everybody crowds, nobody knows why.
i go to boston. my bus leaves at 6:40 am and i rush out of my room at 6:15 feeling very sorry for myself. somehow, with the help of the train, my legs running down the sidewalk, and a very disgruntled taxi driver, i scurry onto the bus just as it takes off (they didn't even look at me! just let me on without a ticket!)
BU is so startlingly different from my school it feels very strange. it's amazing to see megan. she shows me around her school, and we stand in a strange room waiting for her textbooks. megan's new friends are very fun, and they treat her well (they better)! we are sitting, sprawled across "BU beach" (a grassy hill in front of the hudson and a freeway that if you close your eyes it sounds like the moving of waves) when we get the news that mac miller has died. we play his music out loud and think of his life. when we saw him live last october. the purple of the light that night. i squeeze into megan's bed. then to JP, which always brings comfort, reminding me of the summers of my past. maddie and margaret's house is beautiful. they give us the grand tour as domino players across the street blare their music. then; eric, lindsay, jo, and i all watch coco, falling asleep on each other and sniffling at the beautiful ending. i love seeing my family, and those who have become my family because of our existence in each other's lives for so long. it feels easy. i take a bath, a facet in my life i didn't know i would miss so fiercely. isabella (who had gone to boston the same weekend, and we met up to make the journey back) and i walk home from where the megabus lets us out. its raining and the empire state building is covered in a thin grey cloud.
i come back and it's my suitemate, katherine's birthday. at 12 am we storm her room and scream. she was born on 9/11.
receiving physical mail is definitely top 3 highs of life. i interview for a job as student assistant for health services. i am so nervous i forget all of my talking points but i get the job. we go get thai food to mend a broken heart. a cockroach climbs up the bright orange walls. the waiter does not seem to mind.
we metro to harlem to try to go to playboi carti's birthday party thrown by a$ap rocky, but that was a fever dream, we realize the moment we walk up the stairs from the subway and the streets are filled with rejected party-goers and cops. just getting a glimpse of his silhouette in the window is enough. we go to a mcdonalds instead, have a dance party in our dorm, and then ride bicycles through the empty streets (somehow we find the hilliest area of new york... san francisco style) but riding down them feels amazing. carly's bike breaks and we have to drag it up the hill. bagel boss at 3 am.
i facetime my friends scattered across the map, as i sit in union square park.
all things go/ all things grow.