nataliekresen’s posterous

Stumbling through... 

when we learn to relax, we offer ourselves the opportunity to truly live life out loud.

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when i am old, i'll read books, whole libraries of them. 

and collect them like rocks, stored in deep wooden shelves.

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when i was young, i collected rocks. 

(my best friend and i would sit, knees bent, heels to the ground, 
and dig through them at the school yard.)

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for now, i collect desires, and flip through them like cards,
seeing each face up before they disappear into the pile. 

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Why I ♥ New York

Reason #82: Meeting new friends at the laundromat

Filed under  //   why i love NY list  

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Happy Halloween!

"At first cock-crow the ghosts must go
Back to their quiet graves below."

--Theodosia Garrison

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(a little poem)

My little cherry
heart aches

at all the
pleasantries
we must fake. 
 
All the happy/smiling/pain-staking faces
we must create.

Filed under  //   poem  

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quote.

 

Art is like baby shoes. When you coat them with gold, they can no longer be worn.”
                     - John Updike

Filed under  //   quote  

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Why I ♥ New York

Reason #83: side streets

 

Filed under  //   why i love NY list  

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slip through the cracks

Yesterday somebody stole my umbrella from a hotel lobby. It was a beautiful little blue umbrella with a wooden handle.
 
Yesterday it was also storming like crazy in New York. That cold, finger-curling kind of storm that requires gloves, heavy coats, an umbrella. After my hotel fiasco, I had none of these. Every awning became my refuge, I puddle-jumped from one to the next trying to keep my wet head warm. Even worms don't like this kind of rain.
 
This was when my heart began to thump and I knew: it would be time to take out the sweaters from under my bed. Being a Pennsylvania girl, I am used to some brutal winters. Pittsburgh never spares a real Fall or cruel Winter. Many of my childhood memories are filled with seasonal motifs, jumping into piles of leaves, autumnal reds and browns, catching snowflakes on my tongue, trudging uphill with a plastic sled. I know seasons. And while I have had dreams of San Diego's year-round weather, it just doesn't have the same magic. There's something about packing up sandals and pulling out boots that brings a thrill to my heart.
 
Seasons mark a very tangible change. They allows us to let go of something (bye bye bike rides) and reflect. They're an opportunity to start anew. And while I don't like catching colds or crying through the flu, I do like a bit of cool air to slip through the cracks of my window pane. And that feeling I get when I sit, cocooned in a blanket, while the cold frosts the gravel. Nature making change, marking change, turning like the air in our lungs. Breathing here, here, here, breathing: here!
 
 

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they sing.

I want you
to pet the palms 
of my hands with your 

thumbs. Kiss

the salt off my face. 

Want to see 
past our 
eyelids       beating 
like butterfly wings

into 

the heart of things
where our 
dysfunctional

little armies 
sing: you,
they sing: you, you,

you, you,

u.

Filed under  //   love   poem  

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Why I ♥ New York

Reason #84: plastic bags, rain

Filed under  //   why i love NY list  

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