it's when i stop that i can start.
i've been goinggoinggoing and gone too much.
i rest here now, in the heart of harlem. post spinach penne dinner, accentuated by the marijuana perfume from my next door neighbour.
adjusting.
new york is the grimiest city. i've seen dirt and poop and maggots. but grime so thick and adhesive and gaudy that i can't scrape it off me, only in new york.
i am re-learning simple things i learnt as a kid. do you dishes. take the trash out. in other words, don't invite the mice and the roaches.
coughing now.
when i saw the light brown behind of a small mouse wiggle-squeeze -steered by its pink tail- under the stove, i didn't know how to react. to laugh with excitement or to start screaming? was it a cute sight? or a repulsive one? i still can't make out. it's rather disturbingly delightful.
i'm not killing.
i'm suffocating the bedbugs in vinyl covers. and sucking them up with my pet-hair vacuum once in a while. the orion belts on my skin have started to disappear.
the spider beatles, we have decided to name them creatively, are frozen in little sandwich Ziplocs. we are going to mail them to the entomologist tomorrow. yes, tomorrow.
the living things in my apartment, welcome or not, live.
i'm not killing.
we're all fighting for space.
and food.
and bargaining,
heavily.
(central harlem, nyc, sep 2009)
i've been goinggoinggoing and gone too much.
i rest here now, in the heart of harlem. post spinach penne dinner, accentuated by the marijuana perfume from my next door neighbour.
adjusting.
new york is the grimiest city. i've seen dirt and poop and maggots. but grime so thick and adhesive and gaudy that i can't scrape it off me, only in new york.
i am re-learning simple things i learnt as a kid. do you dishes. take the trash out. in other words, don't invite the mice and the roaches.
coughing now.
when i saw the light brown behind of a small mouse wiggle-squeeze -steered by its pink tail- under the stove, i didn't know how to react. to laugh with excitement or to start screaming? was it a cute sight? or a repulsive one? i still can't make out. it's rather disturbingly delightful.
i'm not killing.
i'm suffocating the bedbugs in vinyl covers. and sucking them up with my pet-hair vacuum once in a while. the orion belts on my skin have started to disappear.
the spider beatles, we have decided to name them creatively, are frozen in little sandwich Ziplocs. we are going to mail them to the entomologist tomorrow. yes, tomorrow.
the living things in my apartment, welcome or not, live.
i'm not killing.
we're all fighting for space.
and food.
and bargaining,
heavily.
(central harlem, nyc, sep 2009)
3 comments:
columbia!
also, simon herzog, son of werner herzog, goes there.
what about the rats?!!
i hate the rats in ny. they are intense.
they tear OUT OF trash bags. and you can always tell who the real newyawkers are - they don't mind. they just scoot along in their heels and whatnot. the rest of us squirm at best and scream at worst. some of us do both. (i just leave the city : ) you brave girl.
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