offstage III: summer soliloquies
feelings from a particularly uncertain/unstable/important summer
vlog-poetry?
made myself a meal
in my short-shorts
on the grass for the bugs.
two two-show days
back to back.
uncertainty & unrest
catalyze & move me to write.
am i finally old enough
to have patterns?
if Time is a Mother,
is Geography a Father?
blood-bound & interpretable,
the first frameworks.
fixed but fated for distance
both parents, in an amicable divorce,
teach you then must leave you.
there are no only children here.
it is a hot june and
i better get up quick to get some food
i have a show to close.
July 2025: law & order
I’ve been making silly mistakes
I’ve been unsteady and unbalanced
Tripping. Bracing. Falling.
Putting my shirt on backwards and
Regressing to my messing.
It seems even when important times come around, I am still myself
Dreams of divine intervention die.
It is alright. I’m just too comfortable with disorder and familiar with fear.
Self-awareness is self-sabotage when it isn’t coupled with action.
When uncertainty returns, I resort to loud self-immolation. Being my own victim and perpetrator,
a familiar prosecution,
a lazy defense. a distracted judge. and a hung jury.
August 2025
2% left on my phone
I can’t help but collapse my spine into this grotesque golden ratio
Sitting on the black tall stools outside Vita Cafe
I’m in the eye of the hurricane right now.
Awareness has never bred comfort or certainty beyond a point.
Feeling sexy and scared
Calm but cognizant
I keep trying to straighten my back, but it’s of no use.
I keep trying to create
It’s been working
But invention feels so imaginary when independent.
I’m a social creature who’s becoming an observer
I know this is the week before I get serious
Regardless of how the hurricane subsides, when it does, which it will, I will have to take charge again.
I’ve done good, I have done bad, I’ve done what I can. I have learned.
I have learned so much, and I’m excited to apply it regardless of which way the tide takes me
I never failed me yet after all
I think I have to start believing that.
It’s sort of the perfect weather right now
I hate to be that guy, but I guess I am my own god and should commit to trust instead of doubt like other religious people
There’s such danger in tone and interpretation
Such pleasure too
I think I get why people are religious
Good for them
The problem isn’t god, it’s that all these gods are at war with each other
Though the gods aren’t the ones fighting, it’s the people.
Thank god I do what I do
I never want to stop writing.
September 2025
It’s a beautiful time in the Lower East Side. Fashion week. Friday evening. Everyone’s been so stunning in the streets. It’s interesting to live here year-round; it’s wild that I’m starting my third year in this apartment.
A surprising crowd at Vita Cafe earlier today: fashionable, young, and in all-black. I stuck out in my bright yellow top with bright blue green pink purple bright accents and my greeeeeeen shorts. Yellow shoes.
Smoking on the orchard stoop now. Sharing it with another sailor, ships passing in the night ahead of us on the pavement. We, Pedestrians, have the right of way here; no stop-lights for walking here. Fashionable pedestrians and passersby. This stoop is not my house, but it sure is my home. Tattoo parlor to my left, paint supply store to my right as I’m perched on this black stoop.
Everyone’s in lines. The same dogs are peeing. The summer is slipping away, slowly but surely. I’ve been so much better at being, but I have not eaten today, I give myself grace. I must.
The guy I’m sharing the stoop with (the aforementioned sailor) is smoking now; I was smoking earlier. I’m sorry to the residents, the stoop-owners. Two guys just walked out of the tattoo parlor, and they’re taking photos of their new tattoos. Sirens, crowds, and lights in the distance. I love living here because it’s alive with or without me. I’m constantly reminded of life by the sounds outside my window and the sights on my daily routes. I’m constantly confronting life here.
Everyone’s so sweet in their costumes for fashion week. Elevated endeavors in casual styling. Then, people returning from yoga.
I realize I haven’t been listening to music.
It’s typical for Friday evening at almost-seven pm for us to have many visitors, but today it’s a perfect time and the summer’s slipping away, and it’s fashion week. So, it’s typical, but hyper-activated; normal, but the dial has been turned up. Spectating from stoops has been special. Accidental at times, ritualistic for most others. I’ve lived in New York for almost five years now. I get to be here for (at least) three more. I’m turning 23 in 18 days. Life is scary and exciting. The world is scary and exciting. I live alone. I’m so grateful for everything that has gotten me where I am. I am so excited for what’s in store. And I am determined not to just let life happen to me but to actively live it instead.
It’s not a eureka moment. I have this realization routinely. But sometimes things click. And you don’t get to control when they do. But when they do, you get to acknowledge that and change and improve and grow. And I’m trying exactly that.