My Eat-Pray-Love Summer

Today is the First of September. I can hardly believe that my Eat-Pray-Love Summer has come to an end! It sort of feels like moments ago when I was heartbroken, right here on my couch, in front of the TV, and impulsively decided to start this blog. The night before, my roommate had sent me a facebook message with the just-released full trailer for the Eat Pray Love movie, and lying in bed in the dark, I just wept, remembering the book and feeling the way I think Liz Gilbert must have felt, the night that she prayed in her bathroom. But then, it seems like years have passed since that moment. Now I have a new roommate, a new bed, a new scar on my face, a new boyfriend. Sometimes I feel like I have a new brain. It’s very strange. But before I wax philosophical, I have two more days of LOVE Month to recount.

Day 30 started with three clients, two here and one out. I planned to bike to my third, but was deterred by the heat- until I got to the train and realized I had forgotten my wallet. So I had to bike there after all. I was sweaty and late, but at least I got some exercise. And it was my first jaunt over the bridge since my accident! It went smoothly. I wore a helmet. (Not like a helmet would’ve done any good that night.) I got some tasks completed, and then had a final client in midtown. I had some dinner at home, and then got ready to go out and meet Randy Warhol and M____ (a girl M. I know this looks like I’m talking about my boyfriend. I am not.) on the Lower East Side. Didn’t initially plan on it, but ended up biking there. Sometimes that’s the fastest way. We went to the National Underground to see Teen Girl Scientist Monthly, which was part of Rachel Bloom’s (of Fuck Me, Ray Bradbury fame) comedy show. We saw some awkward comics, and I won a drink ticket and a compliment from Rachel for correctly naming the musical Lucky Stiff in a trivia contest thing. How embarrassing! I was tipsy. And then TGSM played and they blew my mind! I can’t deal with how great they are, and how happy their music makes me feel. Randy Warhol and I next traveled to St. Jerome’s to see Breedlove play. We saw Darian Darling, who appeared to be building an actual statue of herself (too many ‘ludes?), and other Precious Empire celebrities. Breedlove was super. I had a second whiskey sour and Warhol drank a backwashed half-beer. I owe him a drink. We parted ways, and I was completely trashed. I’m honestly not sure how. Maybe all the biking burned most of my calorie intake for the day? I ate some Pringles and spilled most of them on the sidewalk. I drunkenly talked to M___ on the phone while stumbling along towards the bridge with my bicycle. My ride home was alright- I was very cautious. I passed out in full drag 1993 purple smeared eye makeup and big hair. 

I woke up on Day 31 to train a 9 a.m. client. What’s my problem, really? My hair was a mess, and I tried to wash off all the face. I felt awful. I pulled it together somewhat to go to therapy. It was a good session. We talked about ___, and how that ordeal relates to who I am now. But it became more about why I was drawn to ___ in the first place. What were my preceding circumstances that allowed me to be so hurt by a person? It boils down to, I guess, the fact that I’ve never “matched” my mother. I think she’s a wonderful, adorable person and I love her to death. But growing up, I felt so different from her that I have always desperately created fantasy lives for myself, and run towards danger to combat how dull my life felt. My mom always said, I was her baby that screamed all night. She said that I wouldn’t sleep because I didn’t want to miss anything. This makes almost too much sense to me, it’s an eerie prediction of who I’d become. My mom was cute- she’d plan all kinds of activities and field trips and art projects and volunteering events and interesting play dates. But I wanted to be like my friend C___, who was a latchkey kid who lived with her grandparents, and they slept all the time and she could do whatever she wanted. She had access to cigarettes, and gave herself “tattoos” (i.e. she really just cut herself), and put highlights in her hair, and was allowed to watch 90201. I was only allowed to watch Nickelodeon and PBS. It’s sort of sad to think about myself then, wishing I was like her, and trying to distance myself from my mom. Because, you know, I was eight, nine, ten. And I can’t imagine how I would raise a little girl differently- she did everything right, but kids are fucking nuts. Particularly a kid like me, who never felt comfortable, and who spent all her time reading fantasy books and watching The Wizard of Oz and staring out the window for hours at a time, imagining my future life as a rockstar. I would have placed myself anywhere else besides my boring little life that was perfect and wholesome. So, I love rollercoasters and scary movies and I wanted to do dirty things with boys when I was probably too young and I want to try every drug at least once and I ride my bike in New York City traffic without a helmet because it gives me a huge fucking rush. And love has always been so, so tied to all of that. Because it’s part of a fantasy. I watched all the movies and I read all the books. Things with Audrey Hepburn in them, Gone With the Wind, stuff where love is big and it hurts and it’s an adventure. I put this fantasy on everyone I’ve ever been with, to some extent. And I wanted to be with ___ because he was bad. He made me nervous. I thought I’d experience things with him that I hadn’t experienced before. And I did, and they damaged me, like trying that new drug- sometimes you’re fine afterward, sometimes it stays with you. But either way, you did it for a rush.

It was really fitting that, on the last day of the month, at the end of my special summer, all these revelations started coming out. We’ve talked on these themes before. But it never made any cohesive sense to me in terms of my personal narrative. I feel like I have a grasp on it all now. I completely understand who I am. And nobody fucked me up, I don’t have to blame ___ or my parents or myself. I was just born strange, like we all were in one way or another, and I have been waiting for my adventure since birth.

I had a few more clients, and late at night, I went uptown to stay at M___’s after he got off of a long workday. We pretty much just got in bed, said some nice things to each other, and went to sleep. He just needed me after a hard day, and I was glad to be there. Looking at all of these things I’ve uncovered about myself, it fits that M___ is here now. We have that same passion, it’s rooted in us. This is an adventure. And it’s not a life-threatening one, either, which is what I know I’ve always wanted. I can do all the cocaine and all the BDSM and all the going home with strangers and all the Cyclone-riding in the world, but I’m ultimately not seeking death, or fear, or even pain. I’m just trying to find the adventure that lasts, the kind I can sustain, the kind that can fill my life. So this is it. M___ and I can be that ride. And my friends can be that ride. And music, making it and going out to see it. And New York City, and my rooftop, and a big glass of wine, and amazing dessert. And visiting new places and seeing new movies and sitting in new parks. I feel so fulfilled by the things I’ve done and seen and tasted and discovered this summer. It’s amazing to me that when May began, I couldn’t get through a day without crying about my broken heart. And this project, no matter how noble the intent… I never expected it to really work the way it did. I hoped that I would be forced to take time for myself, and do all those fun things on my personal to-do list that I never did because I felt I didn’t deserve them. I hoped that I would come to terms with my last relationship ending. And I hoped that I would see things a little differently when September came. I didn’t want to feel like a failure anymore. I didn’t want to look at myself in the mirror and see a fat slob anymore. I didn’t want to feel unworthy of love anymore. I didn’t want to bring other people down into the swamp with me anymore.

But it became bigger than all of that, impossibly and unbelievably. I will never, ever in my entire life, forget the summer of 2010, when I ate and prayed and loved. I became a brave, beautiful person, ravenous for life and capable of anything. I feel it all. I won’t be a bee in a jar again, I can’t be. I am bigger than all of that. I think that a person just has to become permeable. You’ve got to sacrifice comfort and routine and you’ve got to open your heart and see yourself in way you’ve never seen yourself before. It’s not hard, it just takes consciousness. And we all spend so many days sleeping, sometimes just becoming mindful seems transcendental.

As I said last week, I love the Fall. I’m excited for it. I want to take this Summer and run with it, I want to feel these things like I feel them now when it’s the deepest darkest day of January. Seasons are so beautiful to me because they always come. No matter how old you are, no matter what happened this year, everything just keeps turning. And that’s reassuring. How can you ever forget yourself, then? These are the maps- the sun rising and setting, leaves changing, snow falling, grass growing. We don’t really need anything, do we? Everything I’ve ever needed is right here.

“I’ve come to believe that there exists in the universe something I call ‘The Physics of The Quest’ — a force of nature governed by laws as real as the laws of gravity or momentum.  And the rule of Quest Physics maybe goes like this: ‘If you are brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting (which can be anything from your house to your bitter old resentments) and set out on a truth-seeking journey (either externally or internally), and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue, and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher, and if you are prepared - most of all - to face (and forgive) some very difficult realities about yourself… then truth will not be withheld from you.’  Or so I’ve come to believe.  I can’t help but believe it, given my experience.”  -Elizabeth Gilbert

Thank you all for taking this trip with me! Namaste.

I woke up still drunk on Day 28, way too early, to go to a client in Chelsea. I felt absolutely miserable. On my way home, I impulsively went to Foodswings and got some vegan fried goodness to help absorb my mistakes from the previous night. It worked, somewhat. I spent the rest of the early afternoon getting ready to be M___’s date to his friends’ wedding. I met M___ up at his apartment, and his dad and his girlfriend picked us up to drive to Long Island. We checked into our hotel and finished getting dressed, and I met a few of M___’s friends. The bride and groom went to college with him, so the whole wedding was really a big reunion. It kind of reminded me of E____ and P____’s wedding in that way, it’s been seven years since I graduated high school with all of those friends, and it’s been seven years since M___ graduated college with all of these people. It wasn’t too awkward, though. We were both really excited to be in that romantic setting together, and he didn’t leave me to fend for myself too often. The wedding ceremony was really lovely. It was so special to be there with M___. The event was outside at this really beautiful estate, and afterward we had cocktails on the lawn. The weather was perfect. We had appetizers and dinner and lots of drinks and desserts… everyone felt like puking. There was a motown-soul band, and at some point in the latter part of the night, they played “Let’s Get It On”… and as big High Fidelity fans (of course we are), we danced and it was very emotional. I got to know M___’s dad a lot better, his family is so wonderful. I really felt welcome and loved, which isn’t guaranteed when you’re an outsider plus-one at a wedding full of friends. But it was absolutely perfect.

After the wedding, we went back to the hotel for the “afterparty”, which didn’t really happen, but there were more drinks, and we hung out in J_ and M______’s room with a bunch of people. They all told stories about college antics and whatnot, and I was sort of fading. But M___ and I’s first night in a hotel together was so fun and romantic. I’m so happy, it’s just ridiculous. We are sort of like an extension of each other, everything is simple but it’s also exciting, we have the exact same way of expressing ourselves. That’s more important than I think I’ve ever considered. It’s funny, the thing that struck me about his profile on the dating website was that he said that he’s a writer, and “words are important”. Which is something I’ve always felt deeply, but I’ve rarely (maybe never) been in a relationship where that was truly a value. We match. Words are important. Because I’ve learned that passivity doesn’t gel with my values, and talking constantly doesn’t necessarily equal communication. This is it, though. This is exactly it.

On Day 29, we were all extremely tired. We checked out and then went across the street to a pancake house for a flapjack freakout. Seriously though. I ate a stack of like seven banana pancakes. Or I almost finished them. I felt awful after. M___ and company drove me home, and I had a client at 3 p.m. This was promptly followed by some poor-choice rice pilaf that I made for some unknown reason, and a two and a half hour nap. After his band practice, M___ and I met up in Williamsburg and had dinner at Patricia’s. The volume of food consumed this weekend is sort of scary. We felt sick (yet again) and laid in bed for a while watching Arrested Development. I literally say this after every single thing that M___ and I do together, but it was the best day, the best days, the best weekend. We can be bloated on a couch together in pajamas or dressed up and dancing at a wedding, it doesn’t seem to matter. Everything is the most fun, the most romantic, the most important, the most most most.

(A candid shot of the drinking marathon.)

Day 26 was Thursday, and I had two morning clients before heading to the hospital to get my stitches out. I have so many terrible, scary memories of that hospital spanning the time I’ve lived in Brooklyn, but this time was a beautiful sunny day, and I was so excited to be de-stitched that was actually feeling really good about walking through those doors. Of course I waited for an hour and a half and had to deal with the usual rigmarole of paperwork and incompetence. The de-stitching took about three minutes, and I got to see the same group of doctors that were with me last week after the accident. Everyone was very nice, and my lip looked really normal! It sort of felt funny, which I guess is the scar, but otherwise it was very successful. I felt happy, so I walked home under the bridge overpass and ate a banana. Finally, I can put phallic objects in my mouth eat fruit again!

I got myself to the gym at night, showered, and then M___ came over. I played him some of my music and we talked about which songs should be on my EP that he’s producing (!!!!!). It was a nice night, and so good to kiss him again.

I woke up earlyish on Day 27 for clients, and then I hung around the house until my evening client. She asked me to come to her house instead of her office today so that we could work out in East River Park. That’s much closer to me anyway, so that was good. I walked over the bridge and listened to music- it was a gorgeous day, breezy, warm and sunny. A very beginning-of-fall day. We jogged the track together and I worked her out on the jungle gym. Afterward, I took the train home and got ready to go to K___ and S_____’s for Song Forum! I was late, and annoyingly had to take a cab. I’m running out of money. That entire area of my life is a complete mess. Soon it will hopefully fix itself- I’ve been missing a lot of clients because of summer vacations, but we’re going back to normal in the next week or so. I met M___, who wasn’t feeling good and I felt so bad for him. He was very brave and insisted on coming with me anyway. After a few drinks, he felt better, and we both played. It was so much fun, as always. Everyone was very supportive and sweet, and it’s always great to hear so much music. We stayed for a round and a half, because M___ had to meet his bandmates on the LES to promote their upcoming show.

We met them at Max Fish, and after drinking a lot of wine at Song Forum, we took Jameson shots and drank beer. I was very drunk. I helped them hand out fliers around the bar, I was supposed to be the one who got guys to come. Anyway, long story short, I was wasted and they gave me a pile of fliers, and I wandered a few blocks away, leaving all my shit (including my phone) with M___. So he was all worried about me and I felt like a jerk. But we went to some other bar, where we took more shots and drank more beer, and M___ and J____ debated paying something like $30 apiece to go into this “ice cage” where you just chug vodka for five minutes. Thankfully, this didn’t happen. M___ and I were wasted anyway, so we took a cab back to his apartment and passed out.

Day 23 was Monday, and I got to sleep in a bit before heading home from M___’s. I had the day off, still feeling sort of crappy, and I spent most of it eating and lazing around. After getting furious at various hospital employees, I finally got an appointment to get my stitches out on Thursday. I bullied myself into jogging at the gym, which is pretty much the only exercise I can do right now (my left palm is still really sensitive from a  cut I got), and I made M___ a new mix CD. I had a relaxing night eating dinner and watching Mad Men.

On Day 24, I had a couple of morning clients, which was somehow followed by lunch and passing out for two hours. I got some of my nagging tasks out of the way, and had a third client in the evening. I got back on my bike to get there- just from my house to the L train. But even so, it was like getting back on a horse that threw me, I was talking to myself like a lunatic. Afterward, I got a salad in Union Square and talked to my mom on the phone in the park for a while. It had rained, and the air was cool and sort of crisp, it smelled just like fall. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still the last New Yorker on earth who loves the summer more than anything. But that fall smell. It’s just more nostalgic to me than anything else. Maybe because fall has always symbolized a fresh start. Sharpened pencils, a new Trapper Keeper, tights without holes, clean notebooks just waiting to be written on. Summer was the excitement and the fever, the transformation, the adventure. But fall was always about coming back down to earth, and seeing how much of that summer change could stick. Your heart’s still fluttering from the rush, but here you are with all your school supplies and your new haircut, ready to face everyone again. I think I can remember something from every fall of my cognizant life, and those memories are what I inhale every time the air changes. We still have several weeks of heat left, I’m sure, and I’m glad of it. But I don’t know, Tuesday night’s air made me cry. It was too too pretty. I thought of last Labor Day and when all the boys played music on my roof in the dark and B____ made those awesome mud cups. I thought of the year before that, and the biggest, most infamous fundraiser party of all time on E____’s roof. And 2007, when I had just started dating ___ and it was still so fun, I had no idea he was nuts, and we went to the zoo and made out in front of the giraffes. 2003, when I moved to the city, and my brand new girlfriends and I bought pirate costumes together. Or all the way back to 1997, when a boy liked me back for really the first time ever and told me I was pretty. Oh and I could go on and on, but it makes me sad in a way, we begin with such optimism and then it’s so easily forgotten. But I don’t think we need to be hopeless when the trees are finally bare, that doesn’t need to be the dark and dismal time. Maybe there’s a way to hold on to sharpened pencils and the smell of leaves.

Anyway. I had a band rehearsal in midtown, it was pretty lame, I deeply, truly want to quit. We auditioned this new guy who plays guitar and keys, and he was talented and maybe cool, but all I kept thinking about was how I didn’t want to audition this guy because I just don’t want to be in the band at all. Being there makes me unhappy. My voice doesn’t feel good when I leave. It’s taking up my time and it’s not creatively fulfilling. Blah. I met M___ after his practice a few blocks away, and we went back to my house. We partied all night, which is and will always be fun. Honestly, the best party I’ve ever been to is just me and my boyfriend intoxicating ourselves and talking all night in my apartment.

I had my client in Harlem on Day 25 at one o’clock, and a short break at home mid-afternoon before my evening midtown client. I used my evening to make a delicious pesto pizza, which I ate the majority of in one sitting, and to finish my work emails in front of the TV. It was pretty mellow. I talked to M___ at night on the phone, and started complaining about the band thing. As I was talking and lamenting, I was struck with fear. I’m afraid of becoming that person again, the one who leans on her boyfriend for everything and throws a pity party until someone bends over backwards to pull her out. I was just having a moment of “I suck at music, why am I doing this, I’m overwhelmed”, which I guess I’m allowed to have as a human being and as an artist being, but still I feel massive guilt. It makes me feel manipulative and helpless at the same time. That I’m fishing for compliments but I’m also absolutely, chemically addicted to them. That’s not what I want. I should just admit aloud (or in print) that I want people, particularly the people I care about the most, to tell me that I’m good. Yes, I’ve worked super hard on myself and I should know on the inside that I’m enough, regardless of what anyone else thinks. And I do know that. Most days. But I haven’t become superhuman, just because I’m happier, and that’s okay. Have to keep reminding myself that that’s okay. When it’s late at night and I’m frustrated and I have no money in the bank and it seems like none of my friends want to hang out with me ever, it’s OKAY to start getting mildly jealous of my boyfriend because he can crank out songs constantly and is better at the guitar than me. And it’s OKAY to start crying because I suddenly can’t picture myself ever successful enough to a.) feel fulfilled, or b.) support an adult life with a family. And it’s OKAY to feel not special for a moment. To feel a little incompetent. To feel lost. They’re just feelings, and my brain controls them. This organ the size of two fists, full of little connecting wires. I am in charge of my hands and feet. I am also in charge of my thought spirals. They seem mysterious, bottomless- but you know, they’re just not. Isn’t that a relief.

M___ and I got into bed on Day 20 at 10:30 a.m., after seven hours in the hospital. He got four or five hours of sleep, and then headed out for a Bodyface show in Jersey. I felt so bad that he stayed out all night. I woke up soon after, and spent the whole day in bed, feeling sorry for myself. I ate whatever soft and cold food I could find, and then eventually in the evening, I braved the world outside my apartment to buy some ice cream and pick up my antibiotics. I was really self-conscious of my face, it still looked pretty horrible. I stayed in for the night and nursed my wounds, ate a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream, and watched Manhattan. I kept falling asleep, so I went to bed early.

On Day 21, I was particularly concerned because I knew I was going to M___’s show that night, and would have to be seen by people, including his dad, who I’d never met. I tried to guilt friends into going with me, but pretty much everyone flaked out besides the amazing J_____ and his friend A_____. I spent several hours trying to make myself presentable, and telling myself that it kind of looked badass. I met J_____ and A_____ at Dojo for dinner, and we caught up and had laughs before going around the corner to Ace of Clubs. I met M___’s dad and his girlfriend, who were so nice! I wanted to be making a good impression on people, but I could hardly smile because of the stitches, which was sort of awkward. We watched one other act before M___ went on, he played every instrument and used a loop machine. I was beyond excited to see M___ play- and he didn’t disappoint! He was incredible. Obviously his songs are fantastic and I love every single one of them and know all the words. But his onstage presence is amazing, and I was just so overwhelmed by love for him- and if it’s possible, he became ten times more attractive to me. I think J_____ and A_____ had a good time, too, we all danced and were silly. J_____ approves of M___, and says that he’s “the cutest one yet”. After the show, M___ and I went back to his apartment to begin a marathon of laziness for the next 24 hours. It started with ordering in diner food and watching Fletch in pajama pants until we started to fall asleep.

We slept nice and late on Day 22, and the real extreme couching began. We finished the movie, then watched a little more than half of the first season of Arrested Development, plus New York, I Love You, Starsky & Hutch, and several episodes of Kitchen Nightmares. We ordered in three times. It was disgusting and heroic. The amount of crap I consumed was unparalleled. The funny thing was, I never once felt restless or guilty or annoyed. That used to be a big problem for me. I was so uncomfortable just being, that if I wasn’t actively doing something, I was furious at myself and at whoever I was with. Couching was not possible pre-EPL Summer. M___ and I haven’t found anything about each other that annoys us yet. And honestly, I don’t see it happening. I’ve never been so swept away. I think the big difference is, I’ve allowed myself to be swept away, and so has he. So there’s no space between us, no grey silent area where we hold things back or wonder what’s appropriate. We just enjoy each other, and that’s it. It’s amazingly simple to just throw yourself into the deep end, if you can just abandon fear- or at least, recognize that fear is natural, but we don’t have to cave to it.

After our third meal (a poorly advised order of pizza and mozzarella sticks), we felt awful and headed to bed. He gave me a huge “I <3 Matthew Pop!” t-shirt that he had left over from whenever he last sold merchandise at shows. There, I’ve said his name. Ah well. The rule has been though, when you’re a celebrity and/or have a pseudonym, full names are fine. Like Haley Bowery, Randy Warhol, Matthew Pop. Otherwise, he’ll still be referred to as M___. For the week that’s left of this blog. Wow. That’s sort of sad. I’ll miss this thing. But it was a very specific three-month-long project (plus a little bit in May), and that’s why I’ve allowed it to become so personal- because it’s temporary. I won’t be publishing my private thoughts on facebook forever, that would somehow be more reprehensible.

Day 18 was M___ and I’s monthaversary. I know that sounds silly, but in a relationship as sudden and altering as this, I think it’s only fair to give some recognition to the date. Plus, we feel a little more legitimate in how we feel about each other when we can point to a month having gone by. If I can change my life in three months- and I mean, full upheaval- I can certainly fall in love in thirty days. No question. We slept late, ordered in Thai food, and then I rushed home to get ready for an evening client. Afterwards, I got dressed and met M___ at Greenpoint Tavern, which is where we went on our first date. I know, we’re dorks. It was funny to be back there, because when I think of him being that guy I met for beers, it seems like years ago… and then, I also felt like it hadn’t been so long since I’d been to that bar. He brought me flowers, which was really sweet, and a mix CD, and we listened to the jukebox and had giant styrofoam cups of Bud Lite. We walked home and had a drink on my roof.

I’ve been saying how unafraid I am of all of this. But we started talking up on the roof, and I was abruptly made aware of some things that really do strike fear in me. I’ve dated no shortage of emotionally available men. Even the more closed off ones- the townie landscaper at 17, the Econ major Republican at 19- still told me they loved me, still told me they wanted to marry me, still named their children with me. I don’t know why. I’ve heard tell that boys are supposed to be so adverse to these things, but I’ve never really experienced it. What I have experienced, which somehow feels worse, is a lot of people professing forever-love to me and then leaving me. It’s never been true, and while I keep jumping back in as though I’ve never been hurt, there is this tiny fissure that reminds me every so often: he’s going to go away. You can talk about babies all you want. It’s not going to happen. I told M___ about this. It was sort of a relief. It’s hard to buy into a new person’s promises all at once. But I suppose I couldn’t have known what was going to happen the next day.

I had a busy morning/early afternoon of work on Day 19, and my subletter B____ moved in! I inhaled some lunch and took a nice long nap. I got myself dressed and practiced a little guitar, and planned to go to Mic Club at Lucky Jack’s. It had been a really long time! I was running late, and I also hadn’t gotten any exercise all day, so I decided to bike there. I broke a flip-flop on my pedal and my seat kept sinking for some reason- was my dear bicycle Falkor trying to warn me of something?? Haha. They were starting late at Mic Club, so there really had been no need to hurry. I grabbed a sandwich and bought a cheap new pair of shoes, and watched a lot of music and comedy until around 10:30, when M___ showed up. We played a little later. I felt pretty good about my performance, and it was fun to finally play in front of M___. He seemed to like me. He played after me, and was wonderful, which I expected, but it made me even more excited to see his show on Saturday! We had to stay late despite being tired, because that’s what happens at Mic Club. We had a couple more drinks, and after the last person played, we walked my bike home over the Williamsburg Bridge. When we got to the fun downhill part, I told M___ he had to try riding down it, because he hasn’t ridden a bike in so long. He did and had a good time, and walked back up to meet me. Then I decided to ride down myself. I had my guitar on my back, and I sped really far ahead… and somewhere near the bottom, I kind of slammed on the brakes for some unknown reason, as opposed to easing my way down… and the guitar made me lurch even further forward and before I knew it, I had flown off the bike and was facedown on the pavement. My leg was tangled in the bike, and with my guitar on my back, too, I couldn’t move. I knew I had scrapes on my hands and knees, but I started laughing because it was totally embarrassing and I assumed that M___ had seen me go down like an idiot. But then I touched my mouth and realized I was gushing blood, and frantically felt my teeth, which felt a little chipped, and I started panicking. I called for M___ and waved my one free arm and leg around. It felt like a really long time before I heard a voice say “Oh my god!” It wasn’t M___, though, it was this skate punk guy with dreadlocks, and he helped me out of the bike and guitar pile. M___ appeared and freaked out. The skateboarder said that my lip looked bad but that I probably wouldn’t need stitches. I thanked him profusely whilst bleeding profusely, and M___ gave me a towel to hold on my face. I was still laughing because it seemed so stupid, but M___ said that we should go to the hospital, so we brought my stuff back to my apartment and got a car to Woodhull Hospital, which is the nearest one. And then we waited. Woodhull is really the worst place on earth, I’ve been there before and have some really bad intense memories of it. It was nearing 4 a.m. and apparently no doctors were working. A couple of hours passed, and I was the only person in the waiting room openly bleeding from the face. Everyone else appeared to be taking naps. M___ ran around begging anyone to help me. I kept telling him he could go home. But he insisted on staying, helping me put my hair in a ponytail because my hands were too scraped up. By the third hour, I was sobbing and so glad he was there with me. He kept trying to make me laugh. I was struck by how much I loved and trusted him. I’ve never felt more unattractive and stupid, and he was there, not even questioning if he should be taking care of me. As awful as it was, I was reminded about the night before, and my doubts just… disappeared.

We got seen in trauma at 7:30 a.m., and I got a tetnus shot. The doctor said I had to wait until the oral surgeon got in at 9, because I was a young girl and he didn’t want my stitches to be imperfect. So I cried, we waited, and finally were moved to another floor, and then a little operating room. I removed my bloody towel, which had been my safety blanket for the last five hours, and M___ had to leave the room. The stitches took maybe ten minutes. Despite how horrible the entire experience was, and how much I hate that hospital, everyone was really nice to us. And M___ officially proved himself to be the most caring and amazing person I’ve ever met. I had disgusting spider-looking stitches in my lip, bloody scabs below it, bruises all over my body, and generally looked like I had really been through it, but M___ just felt sorry that this had happened to me. After one month. Day 18 might have been the anniversary, but Day 19 made me realize how long a month can really be when you’re in the Real Thing.

Now, a very special gift- me without makeup, in bed, with my Phantom of the Opera lip.

The things I write keep getting deleted! Arrgh! That’s why I’m behind on this week- each time I lose something, I feel sorry for myself and can’t bear to start working on it again. But here you go. Day 16 was Monday, and M___ and I deemed it an official “day off”. Obviously we don’t like being apart from each other, but it’s been many days in a row and both of us have lives and work to attend to every so often. My day was pretty productive. I camped out on the couch and did e-mails, grocery shopping, birthday gifting for my dad, and blogging. Aren’t websites great? I had two clients, and went to a yoga class after my last one. Very sweaty. I got myself a salad and spent the rest of the night in. See? Look how Balanced!

Day 17 started with a morning client, and then therapy. We talked about how happy I am. We also talked about how much more open, conscious, and unafraid of intimacy I’ve become. I talked about ___ and got into some specifics that I don’t generally approach, and my therapist said that she was starting to reconsider why my behavior was as it was in my following relationship, with ______. We’ve been asking the same questions for a while… “Why am I bitchy? Why don’t I want to be affectionate? Why don’t I feel like myself? Why am I controlling?” But we decided to start looking at those things as the reaction to trauma. And that I was actually a trauma victim. Of course I was controlling- I lost all sense of control when I belonged to ___. This isn’t to shirk the responsibility for my poor behavior. But I think it’s good to know where exactly it came from, and why. It didn’t just come out of the air. We started discussing my relationship with ______ as a very important stepping-stone relationship. I needed to be with him and start recuperating from trauma for exactly that amount of time. I do feel badly that he had to be the stepping-stone, because he had to endure a lot from me. And because he is truly such a genuine and good and big-hearted person, I feel badly that I couldn’t give him my best. But he was there for me in an extremely important way, and I’m grateful that now I’m capable of giving another person my best. This feels right. It didn’t feel right to wait for ______, hoping he’d have a change of heart, hoping he’d say he was ready to be there again. As important as he was, it didn’t make sense to give up my sense of self again for something that might never be. And then there was M___, who was on the exact same page as me, ready to love and be loved. I’m not a God person, but I do believe in Good Orderly Direction, and in this case, the direction felt divine.

After therapy, I met my girlfriend M____ for lunch at 7A. We marveled at how much we’ve grown and changed in these few short months. Life can just turn around, when you least expect it- in fact, when you least expect it is the only time it does. It was wonderful to see her and catch each other up on our respective love lives. She has been a valuable totem through this adventure I’ve been on, and I know we’ll stay friends as the year continues. Her circle of friends is ______’s circle of friends, and we’re anticipating some minor awkwardness. I have no hard feelings, of course, only positivity for him, but I know it could still be weird to be in social situations together. I would like for it not to be, but I guess we’ll see how that goes.

I biked back home and got a few things done before heading to band practice. It was pretty good. I didn’t hate it. A bunch of the songs sound really great, but I still despise R__’s songs and more than that, I really despise where they sit in my voice. But it was mostly positive, and our drummer has done a huge 180 and is now in it to win it, as opposed to being a big flake. Good stuff. I’ve decided that I don’t want to put all my eggs in that basket anymore. I shouldn’t move at their snail’s pace… I should continue to push for my dreams however I can. I’ll have an EP out by the end of the year. Get into it.

I met M___ and his friend J____ for a beer after their practice was over, too, and then stayed at M___’s apartment. We disgustingly ordered in diner food and pigged out. I ate a grilled cheese and fries in record time. I was very sleepy afterward, and M___ felt very sick, but I had all of Wednesday daytime off from work, so we got to sleep in. Heaven.

I woke up on Day 14 after one hour of sleep, whipped together a nice outfit, and took a car to Times Square to see the workshop of Fat Camp. I was worried I’d conk out, but I was actually still pretty wired from the night before. The show was fantastic. I saw it at NYMF last fall, but it has transformed by leaps and bounds. What a great show! It has the potential to do major things. I am SO proud of my friends, particularly the writers. I feel so blessed to know all of them. I got back home around two, and M___ was still passed out in my bed. We hung around for a little bit until he had to flee and get things done. Sleepiness hit me momentarily, as I sat at home alone, watching Project Runway. But by the time I headed out for an early dinner with B____ and B____ at The Meatball Shop, I felt human. It was the oddest thing. I slept for three hours in two days, and I was still a functioning member of society. We had delicious food, then met M___ at the movies to see Eat Pray Love. (There are some spoilers ahead, I guess, but honestly this entire blog has been a big spoiler of the plot, so…)

Okay. So, of course we had to see the movie. This was the Eat-Pray-Love Summer. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, despite my low expectations. It wasn’t awful. But it was girly and corny and didn’t really develop any characters, making it hard to care very much about the relationships. However, the scenery was lovely (how badly do I want to go to Bali now?) and the basic essence of the story was still sweet. It was strange to be reminded of how uncannily similar my story is to hers, and how many plot points inexplicably appeared in my summer. From the self-centered, immature ex who takes everything… to the younger actor boyfriend who fills in right where the last relationship left off… to Liz’s depression and restlessness… to the weeks of being inseparable with a new true love. That part was particularly interesting to me. Liz goes to Bali to find Balance, or that’s what her healer says she should be finding. So she works on enjoying the country and also meditating seriously- a blend of her previous two trips to Italy and India. But she accidentally meets a man with whom she has so many things in common, and he’s emotionally open and encourages her into love. Liz panics, though, because she’s supposed to be finding Balance, not spending weeks on end skipping meditations and staying in bed making love and swimming in coves and taking boat rides instead. While I’ve never panicked (I’m quite happy with the way things are, thank you very much), I have been laughing at myself the past week- this is meant to be Balance Month, and here I am staying up all night, getting behind on work, drinking copious amounts of wine, spending all my time with this one wonderful person. It just occurred to me, when I was walking around on an hour of sleep, “Ha. I’m not very Balanced, am I?”

But. Liz tries to dump this guy, and plans on leaving Bali. She visits the healer, and tells him about this lover she had. He is confused as to why she broke it off, and tells her that sometimes you must become off-balance for love, in order to live a balanced life. This was one fortune-cookie sentiment, in a movie full of them, that really spoke to me. I am doing what makes me happy, and the sort of dizziness that comes from throwing yourself head first into love is still in keeping with my own quest.

M___ stayed over and we actually got some sleep. Normal people sleep. I got eight hours, because I had a client in the morning. This was Day 15, and I sadly had to say goodbye to B____, who left for L.A. After my client, I woke M___ up and trained him at the gym. It was really fun! Then we went to Coney Island!

It was a grey day, and there were little bits of rain, but it was still a wonderful little vacation day. We ate food from Nathan’s, rode the Wonder Wheel, played lots of games, bought each other stupid little gifts with our ticket winnings, rode Bumper Cars, and hung out on Beer Island for a while having drinks. It was so fun. I love every minute I spend with this person. Afterwards, he headed to a band practice, so I had dinner at home and watched the new Mad Men. I met M___ later on, and we went to his house. Another perfect day followed by a perfect night.

I didn’t have any clients on Day 11, so M___ and I actually got to sleep some. We ordered in pancakes and it was heaven. I have to be pried away from him. I’m late getting everywhere. This day was no exception, because I hurried home in a cab and got dressed in a whirlwind for the evening. This was the day of One Child Born! I went to Joe’s Pub in the late afternoon to help K___ at her tech, and to find a red rose in a vase for the piano. As the “producer”, I got a great seat- never had one of those at Joe’s Pub! M___ and I had dinner and wine at the show. K___ was beautiful, and the show was at its best yet. Laura Nyro’s music is so gorgeous and romantic, and it was really special to have M___ there, being supportive. He got me a present, too… Patti Smith’s Horses on vinyl. Does he know me or what? We hung around after the show, greeting people and dealing with the mailing list. M___ came over afterwards, and we watched TV while B____ packed. We spent a little time on the roof with drinks. It was a really gorgeous night.

Day 12 was Thursday, so I had my usual busy-ish morning. There was a lot of running around, but I was in a good mood, so I wasn’t mad about a client not showing up, or the fact that it started raining. I was able to keep stopping by my apartment on my little breaks and saying hi to M___ who was still in bed. I did, however, blow off band practice that night. R__ wanted me to come all the way up to Scarsdale to work with him… bass and drums couldn’t make it. So I said I was sick. I’ve been thinking a lot about this project. M___ has been offering to help me record an EP, and my producer friend that I met on Tuesday is also up for working on music. Meanwhile, I don’t really like R__’s music that I have to sing, we’ve been “working” for six months and nothing has happened yet, we can’t appease anybody’s schedules, I kind of think R__ is a little delusional, and he wants me to go on an acoustic mini-tour with him. Yeah, no. Not happening. I thought this was the right thing to be doing, to have a band. I’m not mad at myself for trying it out… but I feel like I really need to focus on myself. On my music only. And it’s really amazing to have M___’s support and encouragement. That sort of “help” from a boyfriend is different now- I don’t need constant reminders that I’m good, and it’s not a crutch for me. I think I could do a lot of things on my own now. I guess it is fairly serendipitous that M___ happens to be really good at home recording and has been creating his own career from scratch for years. That’s inspiring to me, whether he ends up actually putting a hand into my career or not.

We met up for dinner after his band practice, and went to a nice Italian place in Hell’s Kitchen. We got a bottle of wine… ate pasta… got dessert… it was awesome. We had planned on going our separate ways after dinner, trying to be a little less obsessed with each other. But I ended up going to his apartment anyway. My morning appointment was closer to his house anyway. Haha. We drank more wine on his couch, listened to records, got beers, and talked about the future. It was a really special night. I’ve been saying that about a lot of nights, huh? Well, this one really was, too. As usual, we stayed up until sunrise. Why does this keep happening?? We can’t stop talking when we’re together! Of all the lives I’ve had, this one is the most fun.

After two hours of sleep, I went to see my psychiatrist for my every-so-often check in. I told him all about M___ and the amazing adventures I’ve been on this summer. He was thrilled. Everything is going. Just going. It’s magic. I had two clients back at home, and then managed to take an hour-long nap. It mostly made me feel like a zombie. I went to my last client in the evening, and then got ready at home for B____’s going away party at Vintage. I got to see some great random people that I’ve missed, and M___ got to meet a few friends. His friend S__ came by, and we took shots… more wine… then we, along with the roomie and his boyfriend, went home to Williamsburg. There were beers and substances, and B____ and B____ went to bed while M___, S__ and I sat up on the roof. It was gorgeous up there that night. S__ went home, and M___ and I stayed up until 8am. It just can’t be helped. It’s never been like this, and I’m going to milk it for everything it’s got.

Firstly, this is a little gift from Semi Precious Weapons. Go ahead, touch yourself.

I’ve been head over heels in love for the past few days, so I’ve sort of let this fall by the wayside. But I’d say I’m still doing an admirable job at completing my LOVE Month duties! Day 8 was Sunday, and M___ and I got lunch and we reluctantly left each other’s side for a few hours. I had my Tribeca client in the early evening, and I really just felt like I was walking on air… it was a beautiful night. I picked up some groceries at Whole Foods on my home, and then went over M___’s house. We watched funny websites and The IT Crowd. It was lovely. The night was amazing. We are just becoming so close, it’s really intense and good. I was sad to leave in the morning to get to an 11am client.

So, Day 9 was pretty mellow… I had a long break in the middle of the day, before my evening client. I went to Yoga to the People after work. It was a really tough class, and a really sweaty class. I had forgotten how a YTTP class feels! But it was extremely satisfying. I floated home, as you do after yoga on a beautiful summer night. My roommate B____ came home! We caught up on some important television, like RuPaul’s Drag U. I’m going to miss him so much- he leaves for six months (or more) on Sunday. M___ and I talked on the phone. We’re having trouble not spending all of our time together. Haha.

I stayed up too late, as usual, and had to wake up on Day 10 pretty early. Nearly overslept, also as usual. I’ve been having such a hard time with that lately. I rode my bike into the city with my guitar on my back and my gym bag on my chest. Treacherous. I bought some cute new underwear. Then I had a client in Chelsea, followed by therapy in the East Village. I played my new music for my therapist, and gushed and gushed and gushed about M___. She was so excited, and kept saying that it couldn’t have happened to a nicer person. We talked about twenty-five being the year for everything to happen. It seems like this new relationship really fits into that category. One giant step towards the future. And I just have no misgivings at all. There isn’t a thing I’d change about M___. We are so in sync. I stopped home briefly to shower, and then headed back out to play music in Central Park with this producer dude that I may collaborate with. We drank a little wine, and it wasn’t too too awkward, and shared tunes. I stayed a little later than I said I would, and M___ was all worried, which I felt bad about… but I hurried up to the Upper East Side, and we got delicious Italian food and wine together. It was a really nice little date. We hung out at his apartment watching more IT Crowd (watch it, it’s super funny), and drinking more wine. We stayed up late, as usual, but this time we got to sleep in!

Anyway. My brain is in permanent musical-mode. Meaning, Maria is running through the hills inside it, and June is busting out all over, and so in love with you am I, and if you’ll excuse the expression I use I’m in love I’m in love I’m in love I’m in love… it’s really ridiculous. But basically, there is some serious golden age musical theatre playing non-stop between my ears. Everything is happy and hopeful and gorgeous.

Day 7! So my sister and mom drove me to Albany and I hopped on a bus back to the city. It’s always a little sad to leave my favorite non-Brooklyn place, but I was so excited to see M___ that I hardly was concerned. It was a lovely retreat. It’s important to leave the city sometimes, even when you love it to death. I got in around 4:30, and M___ came to meet me at Port Authority. I’ve never been so happy to see someone! We took an excruciatingly long cab ride back to my apartment, but it didn’t matter, because we were so glad to be together. (Just to warn you- this entire entry is going to be puke-worthy.) So, I’d obviously been thinking a lot about my self-promise to stay single all summer, and all that. And M___ really did respect that, but of course he really did want the label. I mean, the label is nice. Even if you can still have everything without it. We talked about this a little bit, but I sort of felt like I was at an impasse, and then the strangest thing happened. A deus ex machina, if you will. I went to my mailbox and unloaded the huge pile that had been accumulating all week, and there was a letter from ______, from Amsterdam. My eyes got as big as saucers and I hid it in the pile, and when we got upstairs, I ran to the bathroom to read it.

Now, I’d been feeling angry about ______. Because I sent him a signed copy of our favorite band’s new record, and hadn’t heard anything from him. I had mentally decided that he was actually, secretly, a huge asshole, and I couldn’t believe I’d missed that fact for nearly two years of dating. And that sort of stressed me out. If I was so irritated by this small slight, did that mean I still had feelings for him? In which case, I couldn’t possibly start anything new with M___. But. His card was sweet- he thanked me profusely, told me about how special his summer has been, and reiterated the sentiment that’s been made continuously since our breakup… he can’t be there for me in the way he used to right now, but he misses me and cares for me, and can’t say that he knows what the future holds. And some other kind words, too. About three weeks ago, if I had received this card, I would’ve lit up and mined every word for hope, sure that it was a sign we would eventually get back together. But now… it was a different sort of sign. I didn’t read it like that at all. I thought it was thoughtful and genuine, and I was very happy to let go of being pissed off at him. And I felt something I hadn’t felt before, with regard to ______: detachment. It was as if he looked at me, sincerely and lovingly, and took a pair of scissors and severed whatever tie was keeping me tethered to him. And then I was, with great care and respect, nudged off. Towards the next thing. He’s doing his thing. I’m doing mine. I am, finally, so at peace.

M___ and I went out for dinner next door, and I decided that I could really do this. Now. I could be his girlfriend. And I really wanted that. I was startled by how much I wanted it. Staying single for the entirety of the Eat-Pray-Love Summer… that’s not a hard and fast rule. It’s something I made up. The whole project is something I made up. I can do whatever I want. And it just seemed counter-intuitive at this juncture. It’s LOVE Month. Why pretend I don’t want to feel love? So we made it official. And it was the most good.

We went back to my apartment, and I played him the songs I wrote for him while I was away. He reacted with the appropriate amount of emotion. We laid around doing nothing for hours, just enjoying each other’s company, debating watching a movie, and then procrastinating, just to look at each other and kiss each other. And then the second crazy thing happened. He said it. You know. The L word. The one that this month is named after. And just as crazily, I said it back. Pretty much nothing in the history of love stories between people has happened as quickly, or as honestly, as the thing between M___ and I has. But this is a new thing I’m trying- don’t judge your feelings. Say exactly what you feel, when you feel it, and always mean what you say. Who cares if you’re supposed to wait this-many-dates or so-many-months, or if you’re supposed to agonize alone about your awkward bursts of emotion. I think we just shouldn’t hesitate. I think we should love as hard as we can, as often as possible. We always regret it when we don’t. LOVE Month. Get into it!

We talked and talked and kissed and kissed on my couch for a few more hours. I know! Disgusting! Finally, around midnight, we decided to go out for a celebratory drink at East River Bar. Then we had a beer on my roof. I’ve never been so happy! M___ and I are on the exact same wavelength. This isn’t a thing I’ve ever experienced before. We stayed up until 5:30 a.m. I ate leftover Italian food in bed as the world got brighter. Everything seems so perfect, and hopeful. And the weirdest thing is, I’m not scared. Yeah, I know my heart has taken a beating, especially in the past few years. But nothing about giving it to M___ makes me worry for it’s safety. The risk feels good. And I think that’s because I know that my heart is still my heart, in the end. Giving it away, even in what feels like its entirety, doesn’t mean giving up any part of myself. I am whole. Being with M___ just creates another layer to that wholeness. We came together at precisely the right time in both of our lives. Neither of us would have been ready for the Real Thing before right-this-second. That’s what’s so amazing.

The other thing that’s amazing? I already spoke to the coincidence of LOVE Month happening now. But even more coincidental are the parallels to Elizabeth Gilbert’s actual story. In Bali, while she explored Balance, she happened to meet the man of her dreams. And she was complete enough to accept him into her life at that point. And now they’re married, and she wrote a book about it. I should probably read that now, huh? When I first read Eat Pray Love, I was sort of annoyed with the perfect Hollywood ending. Even though I knew it was a true story. It just seemed too picture-perfect that she accidentally found love. So when I started this project, I carefully ignored that part of the story. Why would that ever happen to me?

As it turns out, when you love yourself, love just becomes abundant. August 7th was exactly one hundred days after the day I got my heart broken. So. Here’s the recipe to find love in 100 days: Let go. Smile often, even when you’re not necessarily feeling it. Eat cake. Hug friends. Dance and kiss without discrimination. Meditate. Tell yourself how beautiful you are. Sweat. Talk about how you feel, to anyone who will listen. Breathe deep. Go be among the trees. Lavish yourself with small acts of kindness. Forgive awkwardness. Forgive emotions. Forgive your nasty inner voices. Forget that you ever thought you needed another person to make yourself whole. And then- when you’re not looking, maybe while you sleep?- you will find yourself, suddenly, powerfully, magnetic.

On Day 4, I inexplicably decided I should run the lake again. I ran more consistently this time, but it was a much hotter day, I was still sickly, and those hills kill me. I finished in about an hour this time, since I didn’t take any wrong turns, and then I jumped in the lake afterward, which is really the best part. I hung out on the beach with the family, and my mom and I got ice cream. We had the big family dinner, and I actually took a shower, which is fairly impressive. I was a dirty hairy hippie pretty much all week. Wednesday is Bingo Night at Trout Lake, so all the cousins headed down to the Community House to do that. We play with Smarties, so you get to eat them as you go. Our table dominated, though I didn’t win anything. I never do. In twenty-two years of going to this place, I have won $3, once. I went to sleep listening to M___ on my ipod, wishing all those amazing romantic songs were about me. It was nice.

Day 5 was Thursday, and after sleeping in until noon or so as usual, I went swimming down at the beach. My cousins have been really into swimming the length of the lake, and I considered being a hero and joining them, but every part of my body hurt too much from all the running. Genius. My sister and I ate delicious fried goodness at the Snack Bar for lunch. I worked on a third song. This one has little remnants of songs that were going to be about ______ in it, but it’s really just about depression, and my struggle with it. I like my lyrics a lot, and even though I still couldn’t sing very well, I think the melody is strong. After dinner, my mom and sister and I went into Lake George Village. We basically go for caramel apples and cell phone reception. I frantically texted M___. The service still wasn’t very good, though. My sister and I searched for trashy t-shirts in the gift shops. The whole town is essentially where the Jersey Shore goes on family vacation. My sister’s favorite t-shirt reads “Thousands of my children have died on your daughter’s face”. I wish I owned that.

Day 6 was Friday, which is hike day! Every year, my family climbs a mountain somewhere in the Adirondacks, and at Christmas, my grandpa has our picture from the top printed onto a t-shirt that reads “We Climbed Such-and-Such Mountain”. It’s adorable and embarrassing. This year was Wakeley Mountain. It was easy and pretty for the first two miles, and then extremely hard for the third. Never has a mile felt so long. At the top, there was no big panorama- you had to climb a terrifying 70 foot firetower to see the view. I made a failed attempt to go up with my little girl cousins, but we all started screaming about a third of the way, because the wind was so intense that it seemed to be shaking. Finally, I sucked it up because I feel competitive towards my little boy cousins, and they all made it- so we slowly ascended and it was absolutely the scariest thing I’ve ever done. And I’m not even really that afraid of heights. It was about 30 degrees up at the top, and you felt like you were just going to be blown away. Anyway, I was glad I did it. We had sandwiches and trail mix on the ground, and then journeyed back down the mountain, which is always quicker but more treacherous. The calm part of the walk was really beautiful, though. I walked alone and just tried to meditate on the silence and the greenness. I was noticing in myself, during this trip, that my sat yam breath has stayed with me. And I just have felt no need to argue with anyone, or get annoyed, or get overwhelmed… I’m just calm and quiet. I can laugh at everything. Life seems suspiciously easy.

We had the last big family dinner, which is Thanksgiving. After our big hike, every year, my grandma and grandpa serve us a full Thanksgiving dinner. Which is incredible. I gorged myself on stuffing. They even made me my own stuffing that wasn’t prepared inside the turkey! Once I felt like puking, I ate a little more, and then I eventually stopped. My cousins and I hung around together being silly for a little while, and then I met up with my friend R_____ to catch up. We became friends the summer we were fifteen and ran around like hooligans, drinking beer in the forest. Both of our families have been coming to the Lake for decades. Somehow we missed each other everyday on the beach this week, but we sort of caught each other up on our lives for a short bit back at my cabin. She’s so sweet and wonderful. She’s in the Peace Corps right now, in Senegal, and is on her vacation right now. It was really interesting to hear about her experience. I read some magazines at the big cabin while board games were played, and then we all went to sleep. It was a super cold night, and I had to be all zipped into my sleeping bag. I had a hard time sleeping… and just kept reminding myself that it was just one more sleep until seeing M___. Full heart!

I’m back in Brooklyn! A whole lot has happened, a whole lot has changed, and I can’t wait to catch you up on it all. Blogging seems trite. My feelings are big. Regardless… here we go. Day 1 of LOVE month started beautifully, waking up with M___ at his apartment. I overslept though, and had to hurry myself into a cab to get to SoHo for a pre-vacation spray tan. I spent the rest of the early afternoon writing in here, packing, eating lunch, being sticky from the tan, uploading all of M___’s records onto my itunes, and generally missing M___. I got a 4:30 bus upstate, and just listened to said records and the mix CD he made me the whole way. And we texted each other ferociously until I eventually lost service. His music is so good. It kills me. My mom picked me up in Glens Falls, and we got to Trout Lake around 10 p.m. It was quiet and lovely. My ears ring whenever I go anywhere outside of New York City. My “lost voice” quickly mutated into a cold, which is the only cold I’ve had this year, so I guess that’s good. But I still felt kind of crappy.

On Day 2, I took a walk with my mom and aunt, and said hello to the whole family… grandparents, aunts, uncles and loads of cousins. My mom and I went to Saratoga to pick up my sister from her friend’s house. I literally was only thinking about how to get cell phone reception so I could text M___. I’m fucking nuts. I had no voice to communicate with anyone, and I was sniffly, so I didn’t go down to the beach at all. I stayed up at our cabin and played guitar on the porch. I couldn’t sing, so it was sort of interesting to try writing without being able to create any vocal melody. A good challenge, it turns out, because I wrote a song! It’s sort of a quirky cute song about M___. I was really proud of myself for working so quickly. When I set my mind to it, I always can write. But I usually procrastinate so much that I only get one song out each month or so. This has been a particularly fruitful summer for creativity! M___ has inspired me a lot, because he writes so often and releases albums almost constantly. I could be like that. Why not? I decided to treat my week in the woods as a writing retreat. I’d write everyday and not get frustrated with myself. We had a great big family dinner, which is the best part of Trout Lake- fifteen people cramming into a cabin for enormous amounts of food. 

On Day 3, I felt huge from the massive eating fest, so I decided to run around the Lake. It’s about 7 miles, and really hilly. ______ and I did it twice last summer, although I wasn’t sick then. This time there were a few more walking breaks. I listened to all my music from M___ the whole run. I took a wrong turn somewhere- I didn’t remember there being any forks in the road- so the adventure ended up taking about two and a half hours. Haha. I was soaked with sweat, got into my bathing suit, and just jumped in the lake. I spent a few hours reading on the beach, and then retreated to the cabin to start on a new song. The second one was a lot more difficult to get into. I mostly just scribbled ideas down and strummed aimlessly. Every time I start a new song, I think to myself, “There are no more chords! There is no chord progression left that I haven’t used already!” But I know there are. People keep making music, somehow, and it still gives us chills like we’ve never heard the chords before. I have to continuously remind myself of that. We had pizza night at the big family cabin, and later on, I gushed to my mom and sister about my “almost boyfriend”. I played them some of my favorite songs of his. They seemed to like it. I explained the situation to my sister- how I was trying to stay single, but we were so close already, and really it just seems like a labeling issue at this point. She said that was stupid and that I should probably just do the relationship already. Once everyone was reading in bed in my cabin, I just pounded out another song. This one is good, I think. It’s still about M___, but more serious this time. I’m really happy with it. And with the fact that I wrote two songs in two days. I’m a champion.