nataliekresen’s posterous

Stumbling through... 

The First Day of Spring was said to be March 20th, 2009

I have a bone to pick with you. You were supposed to make an appearance last Friday and instead you sent a friend in your place. A cold and flighty, sqeezy little guy who has been hanging around far too long, causing colds and bad moods. What gives?

I think you may have forgotten all the fun we used to have? :(
 
To be honest, I would never do something like this to you. If a calendar is marked for my arrival, I show up. I mingle with strangers and chew politely with my mouth closed. I would never do a no show, it really hurts peoples' feelings.
 
And aren't you tired of being a recluse anyways? Keeping all those sunny days to yourself? I'm sure the baby birds would appreciate a visit. And my mom and best friend too. At this rate you'll have to run around like Santa Claus (who is friends with your crappy replacement by the way) making up for lost time.
 
I hope you're still reading this cause I've been thinking about you a lot lately...your warm breezes and budding blooms. Beneath all this hurt, I'm just excited to see you. Please come soon. I know you're building anticipation but really, there's no need to wait another day. I'm here (with others) & we're tirelessly waiting for you. 
 
Your loyal but ticked friend,
 
Natalie xx

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At some point it must
be learned that Knowledge,
in terms of happiness & stability,
is as useless
as a bro ken bottle.

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Why I ♥ New York

Reason # 95: Night Lights

   
Click here to download:
Why_I_New_York.zip (2415 KB)

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Filed under  //   why i love NY list  

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Idea for the Day

 Take a walk with someone you love. (That someone can be yourself)  

 As a child some of my brightest moments were during neighborhood walks, alone. There's something about the air, the ground, and your experience with it. Walking-- that natural motion of feet shuffling. I remember the world being magical then: wet grass and insects, sun filled skies, chalk drawings and neighbors' tinkering in their garages. I stepped out of clock bound time and entered a world of exploration, a suburban mix of nature and modernity, lawn mowers chasing chipmunks and tea parties in the rain.

 
Walk without your daily baggage.
 
Walk like a child who loses grasp.

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One heel stomp at a time

Picture if you will, a well lit Italian restaurant on the mid-east side of Manhattan. 
 
The sommelier, a skinny man of about 30, long thin nose, tuffle of brown hair, is skittering about pouring glasses of red wine for a room full of ladies, tilting the cool bottle with his reed like fingers. He is stopped, mid-pour, mid-explanation, and asked for his phone number. No lead in, no build up, one of the girls just casually drops the question like a receipt from her purse. Soft, natural.  As bold as the wine in the sommelier's hands. And he pauses, befuddled. He puts down the bottle of wine and with her pen scribbles his digits with a smile...
 
There is a new version of woman out there. And she lives like a man but loves like a woman.
 
I see her all over the place: smart, sexy, stylish, fun. She goes after what she wants without even realizing it. She's claiming what's hers and deconstructing social gender boxes one heel stomp at a time. I call her: the bachelor.
 
Now bachelor has typically been a name for the male species, but the time has come for this term to span genders. After all, the noun's female counterpart, bachelorette, doesn't hold its weight. It brings to mind princess tiaras and midriffs, candy colored girls who cry in the bathroom and wear bunny ears to the bar. But bachelor. Yes, bachelor-- it runs off the tongue with a swiftness, an assuredness that's heavy with class, independence, financial freedom.
 
Gone are the days of aprons and pea casseroles. A bachelor sips on Bourbon, she orders pea souffle from the restaurant down the street. She is free, adventurous, and open to all of life's pleasures. With no shame, no blame. 
 
Now, that doesn't mean she's hard shelled or cynical. It doesn't mean she's trying to prove her equality. No, this breed of woman doesn't knock men at all. In fact, she adores them. Truly. Because there's no need involved. Bachelors choose to spend time with men because they enjoy them, celebrate them & the differences they bring to the table. A world of women would be a bore.
 
But to ignore the emergence of this new woman inhibits her celebration. Because we women get a hard wrap sometimes. While men are allowed to 'spit their game', women are supposed to work hard and go home and bake the cookies...what?!
 
Seriously, though. I've heard the stories, male co-workers asking Susie in the office to bake brownies. And she does. Which is fine by me. But I chose instead to claim a seat at the bachelor table, to embody all its approval and style without having to wear the tie.
 
In short, the time has come to toast these fabulous females. And their impatience with long cuddle sessions, their rejection of social pressures, their love of men, and refusal to wait for the phone call. Cause, damn Sam, this girl's got a black book too and it keeps her as busy as she wants when she chooses to open it.

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Along the way



"The greatest precept is continual awareness."
                                                            -- Buddhist saying
 
This morning I awoke in my close curtained room.
 
It was softer, more quiet than usual. Slivers of light pierced through the fabric folds and something stirred slightly. Something unnameable, alive but muted. I lay there groggy, limbs comfortably askew, trying to bring my mind into full consciousness, trying to connect with the moment & be present. After all, there was nothing outside this except past and future, there was no need to think at all.
 
But I could feel my mind grow brighter, clearer, and it came out screaming like a baby from a womb. Battling the peace in that room, shouldering through with must do, must do, must do, drowning out all the glory in silence, in morning, in life and its sublime moments. And I learned something altogether new about my mind. Learned it wants a war with the present, wants to pull me down with it. And we left that moment, my mind and I, stumbling together, crashing & rolling, bruising all that was holy along the way.


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Filed under  //   consciousness   personal reflection   sleep  

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In case you don't

In case you don't want

to cry, think of balloon
animals, their pink tails left
without air. 

Think of chasing
the neighbor girl
who said something
mean about 
your mother

and tripping on the 
asphalt
in your worn out 
dirty shoes, laces loose and
tangled on 
the sidewalk.

And the scent
of wet
pavement, decaying
leaves, dying mule worms.

Think of your grandmother's perfume,
heavy as wood, hanging
in the air, and the taste of
snow on a woolen mitten.

Think of how you used
to dream while awake and saw
faces smiling, people dancing
in the clouds. 

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Filed under  //   poem  

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Tee hee

 

This is a drawing that my niece did for me. It makes me smile. I've decided to share it as it may make you smile too. Just when life gets stressful, remember, it's all relative. There are some people who stay awake at night for fear of monsters under their bed.

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Sift through

 A first sign of Spring this morning: birds chirping through the bitter cold. The hard crusted icy cold. And I'm pensive (what news! as if I'm not always pensive while writing or spilling my guts). You couldn't see them, their fluttery wings. Their birdsong just echoed through the stark trees, the blowing wind. So much in life is inconsequential: a plastic bag tumbling in the wind, a smile unnoticed, an empty belly moaning at night. And my pensiveness builds, it mounts, it rises above the sea of my emotions and sits there, about to break.

I scribble in my notebook on the subway this morning. A homeless man screams loudly at the tip top of his tired lungs. His exhausted lungs, rising and falling like a dusty accordion. He starts with a soliciation, a plea for money, help, support, but somewhere along the way he forgets and breaks out into song. A loud song woven with lunacy and madness, alternating, God bless you. Happy Birthday with Fuck you all, that's what you think and people's eyes stayed glued to the floor, the mud stained, dirt trodden floor. Because they know: so much in life is inconsequential.

And we must sift through. Know what to hold on to and what to throw away, because you can't hold on to everything. That's what destroys you, all that weight carried from a life of greed and collection. No, it's better to be an observer, wandering through these days, these years. Better to hear the birds chirp and the insane ramble than to listen to your own ramblings playing like an old fashion record, rich with pain & heaviness. Better to feel the grumble rise in your sunken stomach minutes before you go to bed than to stuff yourself like a baby, full. Because full bellies lead to strange dreams and, upon waking, even stranger perceptions...

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Filed under  //   personal reflection  

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In the turn of a day...

 

I drag my feet sometimes. I do. It's not that I don't push my toes forward, but my heels keep me back, scrape the tread off my shoes. I can't help it. It's my physical groan, my active grumble, my shoe filled complaint. Not that I've much to complain about these days. Nope, no sir, things are just dandy over here.
 
I went to brunch with a friend on Sunday, we shoveled mouthfuls of food slowly, passionately, while we talked about life and its freak occurrences, random encounters. Amid the crispy fried potatoes & fluffy eggs, spirituality and storytelling spilled out like yoke, running across the plate of our conversation. We made a pact to spend a day together, starting in the morning ending at midnight, without any plan. We'd just meet on some random corner and see where the day takes us. New York at our fingertips, any street just a shoe drag waltz from our starting point. 

Yes, Manhattan as our oyster, cracked open and ready to be swallowed. We'll watch the city breathe and see where life takes us in the turn of a day. Cause you can do that in New York. Here, anything is possible.
 
I once ran into an old friend on the subway [Old: not seen since preadolescence, budding teen days]. I instantly remembered her house back in Pennsylvania, the brown dog, her bedroom's sloped rafters, the secrets and teachings whispered amid a circle of girls. And there she was, sitting, not making eye contact with anyone like a polite and proper New Yorker. We chatted a bit. Me, leaning down from the handrail, and she, head tilted to the right, chin pointing up. We never exchanged numbers, that's too intimate. Just a smile and nod hello. 
 
Cause that's how things work. We spend all this time meeting and then dismissing people, loving and letting them go. All this time spent on pleasantries only to meet that person on the subway, years later, a hair away from being a stranger. A moment of reflection & remembrance. A moment. 

That brunch felt longer, felt like eternity, chasing after stories and pulling them forth. Because we do that, don't we? We drop stories from our mouths like a cat drops a dead mouse. Look what I've done, all this effort and here's my prize to share. With you. Because that's what friends do. And it makes me wonder if my brunch friend will be some random occurrence too, years later, that I bump into while walking along the gum speckled pavement, panning the view and dragging my feet. And that thought makes me sad. Sadder than I've been in awhile. 

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Filed under  //   personal reflection  

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