nataliekresen's posterous - Stumbling through...

September 23, 2008

December, 2006.

I knew

I wanted

to talk to you all night. Amid the swarms of people drinking

their sugary drinks, circling and retreating, you asked me a question.

It was then I noticed

the veins in your arms,

the clean lines they made

like rail tracks running

across the countryside of your Body. I wanted

to trace them, but asked questions instead.

---

I couldn't hear your answers, there was this thumping

that started in my ear &

traveled

everywhere,

& my whole body pulsed

with this hot nameless rhythmn

that beat

with

in.

I drank vodka

on the rocks

until my eyes

grew dim,

drew a picture of you

in my mind—the soft skin on your

face, your neck, the hazy outline

of your

lips (like a bud about to

burst). I hadn't seen

someone so beautiful

in a long time and a

sickening feeling of helplessness

passed over me.

Later I sunk into the pink of the bathroom rug

& vomited,

releasing those potent vapors

of hot vodka

into the air.

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Filed under // poem

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September 19, 2008

It's cold today. Fall is coming to New York, a breeze is blowing through and the pavement feels like stones buried under a shaded tree. No heat heavy air, no wet skin, no dirty sewer steam spewing from the ground. Fall. Funny how its name doesn't fit. To fall is clumsy, it's hot and hurried, a quick mishap straight to the ground. When I was 15 I fell in an airport. I was running to catch a plane, a million bags strapped around my neck and I tripped over the bottom of my pants. I fell with such force that my arms and legs shot out in the shape of an X and I skidded (yes, I actually skidded) across the floor and then, like a squirrel collecting acorns, tried to gather up all my belongings as quickly as I could. People cheered, whistled, clapped. I'll never forget that day and how it ruined the word 'fall' for me.

But to be fair, personal anecdotes aside, I suppose the word Fall can be justified to fit its season. After all, it is the time of year when things begin to die, fall, disappear. Leaves fall from trees, animals fall into their homes, preparing for winter, insects, bears, squirrels, all fall away from sight. Birds migrate and summer falls, crumbles, loses its heat.

There is something elegant in this, in losing one's bearings, in losing control and submitting to gravity. In submitting to the natural flow of life. To fall is to be vulnerable, weak for a moment, human. And to stand up, rejuvenating, invigorating, exciting. You're full of laughs and embarrassment and heat and that heat will help carry you forward. It too will diffuse but somewhere deep inside you, stirring at times, ready to pick you up again. The actual fall is the lowest point of feeling, it's the before and after that are loaded with sensations. And Fall too is the season between extremes, it balances out the heat and cold, prepares us for the darker days that are ahead and soothes us from the heat that came before. It's the season of peace, the moment in between, the gentle, inevitable, balancing act.

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Filed under // consciousness personal reflection

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September 17, 2008

Truths

"Of all forms of caution, caution in love is perhaps the most fatal to true happiness."

—Bertrand Russell

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Filed under // love quote

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September 16, 2008

Embarassing moments...

Nobody wants to walk around with spinach stuck in their teeth. Nobody. So why don't we tell people when they're walking around with spinach stuck in their teeth? Those poor souls, small talking, attending meetings, smiling at strangers, all the while having a tuft of green wedged between their upper left central and lateral. It's so unfair. Or at least I think so.

You may wonder why I'm sitting here thinking of gum lines and molars. The truth: that person was recently me.

Yes, I spoke at all day meetings with confidence, smiled at the trucker who honked his horn at me, even had a lengthy discussion with a co-worker, only to discover (hours later) that I'd had a bit of lettuce in my teeth. At the end of the long day, that leafy green glob stared back at me in the mirror with malice.

Now once you realize that you've carried a piece of foliage around with you everywhere, you start to retrace your steps...did I flirt with the guy in the elevator? Did I giggle near the water cooler? Did I approach my boss about a conflict? Everyone I talked to that day flashed across my mind at rapid speed. Rapid speed. And let me tell you, there were a lot of f*cking faces.

And not one single person gestured, hinted, shared with me, this little but significant detail. What gives? Why is it so hard to say, Uh-hem, excuse me but you have a little something right...there. Yes, there, in between those two teeth?

I mean at least slip me a toothpick or a piece of gum. Something. But no, people appeased me all day and let me walk around as if my mouth were the produce section at a grocery store...

Is it so hard to be honest? Stranger or not, what's your vote on this?

I think mine's pretty obvious.

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Filed under // embarassing moments food

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September 12, 2008

Auto-Talk.

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Filed under // relationships

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September 12, 2008

I have a

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Filed under // personal reflection secrets

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September 11, 2008

All Hail to that Rounded Utensil

Today I want to talk about: Spoons. I love them. I do. Love the way they curve into your mouth, love the soft &creamy things you eat off them, love their sheen, their *ting* when they fall, their cool curves. Hell I'd come back as one if I could...so slender and sensual, always being licked....but I am getting wayyyy too deep into this. Sorry Mom.

N-e-ways, where did I begin? Ah yes, spoons. You see, while I do realize that forks and knives serve very important purposes, they just lack the ...q'est-ce que c'est? finesse that a spoon inherently has. Like a leggy woman walking past construction workers, she just grabs attention. And rightfully so, after all how else could we scoop out the luscious goodness of strawberry ice cream on a sweltering day? How could we nurse our colds back to health without dipping her into our chicken noodle soup? How could we skim the top off yogurt and get that dollop of pudding out of the bottom left corner of its plastic container?

How, how, how?

When I was little my sister used to stab my knee under the table with a fork. I'd cry and tell on her and she'd wait a few days and then do it again. Perhaps that's something to do with my strong affinity towards a softer instrument. Who knows? Who cares? The thing is, whatever Neanderthal went into the woods and started pounding on a stone until there was a grove in it is my hero and should be yours too.

What would life be like if it was all sharp and blunt? Sure we'd be able to cut perfect bite sized pieces, and yes, we'd be able to twirl linguine, and stab at things, grab, poke and slice but where would the pleasurable sensation be that comes with that cool rounded metal uniting with the top of your tongue? How would we pull out cookie batter to mold and shape, feed babies and take cough medicine, eat crème brûlée and stir marshmallows into hot chocolate?

We owe her thanks. It's important to appreciate the small things. And she's a small thing; she could fit inside your pocket or tuck away in your purse, I bet she could even help your heel get into a tight shoe. There's no telling what she can do. So perhaps you should take a moment and appreciate her existence and remember: ice cream's great, soup's even better and small things can do big things in this world.

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Filed under // food

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September 10, 2008

Could sleep for
a thousand years,
drum back and breathe
slowly, letting

dreams burst & fade
in the twilight of
my
mind.

Memories--
I can't keep
straight.
When I was four
I cried because

I wasn't being

heard.

After my last
drone, I remembered hearing

silence

thick, leg-draggingly

heavy, as if
for the first
time.

I filled that space with imagined noises:

my mother's exasperated voice

, the sounds

of birds' beaks clanking and pots & pans, of
cats fighting, those high pitched moans disturbing midnight's hour
pulled from the backs of their tired throats...

It was there, amid the chaos,
where the voice breaks, throat
swallows, lungs
inhale,
that I found my peace.
My peace.
Such a dark
& foreign place.

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Filed under // poem

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September 8, 2008

Humor and stepping outside

Now I for one can always appreciate a bit of humor at the expense of the human mind. So, when flipping through the New Yorker this morning, I chuckled at the cartoon you see above. I love the animator's ability to shine a light on the absurdity of human doubt and self deprecation.

May it serve as a reminder to step outside your head this week...

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Filed under // consciousness humor

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September 5, 2008