On Track (and other bad train puns.)

So I sat on a train. And I thought. All about what really I was trying to say with these notes. And I tried to draw it too.

The most poignant things I wrote, in my opinion, were...

When did things become so broken?
and
You could save you. If only you'd let yourself.

And the most telling drawings were...

A broken heart being sewn together
and
A medicine pill.

So.
I really just sat there, doodling, and occasionally writing a sentence fragment with a bullet, on the back of a whole-wheat pancake recipe. And tried to think of what would be most fufilling for me and interesting for you to make the site into. Hopefully, the preliminary will be up by just after x-mas.

It took me all of the Ronkonkoma Long Island Rail Road to complete my ideas. Mostly just the last ten minutes. But I'm happy with it. I think you'll like it.

I don't like this all business blog today. But Idioteque by Radiohead is blasting in someone elses apartment. So I that'll make me smile : )

-N

Small Town Memories

The sign just north of me reads "Bienvenue Montpelier, Capitale du Vermont."

My french accent is attrocious. But somehow, after reading it and saying it over and over again, atleast I have that phrase down-pat.

This town is happy. It has a genuine feeling to it. Sure it may not be, or never be, everything you want. And you might not be able to live out your big city dreams here. Or grocery shop after 11:00. But it is what it is. It is a gentle reminder of a simpler time.

It makes me smile.

And truth be told. I kind of miss it here. Except the snow.

No more snow. Never again.

I almost feel like, one day, I could live here again. Settle my old bones and plant some roots. In a town where people wink because they like their lives. And hold doors just because they have the time.

But I'm not slowed down enough for it yet. Not nearly. The pulse of New York beats inside me. The rush and hustle of grit and asphalt is my mind's playground and my daily grind.

"I haunt the halls of Madison at night. Choking back the urge to fight."

It's a nice place to live. But I wouldn't wanna visit here.

- N

Wait for me Montpelier. Don't change. I'll be back someday. Or maybe just to the idea of you.

Fine. You can change... But just a little.

Ying-Yang

"I love you so much. But do me a favor baby, don't reply. 'Cause I can dish it out, but I can't take it."

Early New Years Resolution ; Get the site up and running. Be more diligent about this blog.

It's hard hearing someone say they aren't sure you're "Worth it."

But yet, "they'd do it all again."

Sounds like bull to me. I'd take years of a true friend for a heart break or two anyvday.

And as the world turns, and the seasons change. So do I. It's almost winter now. Days away even. I've been feeling more pensive and introspective. I've been sitting in this house alone for 7 hours now. I've drained away my day through various media outlets and wondered what my friends, the ones I used to know, are doing.

Do you ever feel like... your a different person sometimes?

I know I do.

I think of myself as something of a devil thats really good at heart for about half the year. And then as winter hits, a drastic change. I think of myself more as an angel with a dark remorse.

But I havent quite pinned down the other changing point. Maybe it's gradual.

Maybe we all do it. Maybe you do it.

"We're concentrated on falling apart. We were contenders. We're just throwin' the fight. I just wanna believe."

I hope more than just two people read this : /
But I wont be surprised if thats it. It's okay.
I like you two.

Go write some notes for me. Give them to strangers.
: p You know its what I'll be doing.

- N

Falling Leaves

So here's where we rake everything up.
And at the end we can burn it if you want.


But to be true to myself. I hope this saves you. And me.
(Even though I dont know if she'll read this or not. Atleast you get to.)

A.

You are so much better than me in so many ways.
More considerate. More pensive. More planned. More you.
But I'm catching up.
All I've ever tried to do is what would make you happy.
Sorry I fucked up along the way.
You're Clingy. Talkative. A gossipe. Often times, a bitch.
You're endearing, and a good listener. You show up.
You plan outfits too much. I remember when you didnt like holidays.
I thought one time I had a vision of you having my child in the future(Girl.)
And secretly thought we'd get married later in life. And you'd be rich. (And I'd be poor.)
I always felt like that bag of M&Ms was wasted on me.
I'm sorry I get bored. I don't know why I can't be captivated.
I don't like your arms. I really like your eyes.

Theres more. But the things I never said are mostly in here.

Falls leaving soon. And we'll burn these leaves that fell of our tree just to keep warm.

Hope you don't catch cold up there in Boston.

-N

Boston

I'm visiting a friend here. But this is definitely not my town. It's different here.


Things close early. Things look old. And seem... reasonable. Less demanding.



I can't help but feel compelled in this room full of girls. Like 6 different roads that I could walk down. But they are all. All. An awful idea.



I'm sorry if I've neglected this blog. But I wrote three notes today. And I hope to write more tomorrow.

I met a friend here though. The first legitimate friend I can think of in awhile. I get along with him and we weren't ever pushed to be around each other. Its a nice feeling.

I like friends.

But not Boston. I'll write more when I'm back in NYC. For better or worse, it's my home.

- N

Moments

What I did tonight :

I met a friend who gave me a book.

I watched a gigantic crowd of people dancing to their own beat.

I handed money to a young man trying to get home.
He said I was the only one who stopped.

I watched a group of strangers helping two lost, young boys.

I sat at Mudd and read in the "Mudd Journal" I made,
and saw a familiar stranger.

I dropped off coffees to my unexpecting friends at work.

I talked to strangers on the subway about secrets.

I got off the train. Out of the L. And listened to the closest deli's radio.
"There is always something there to remind me."

The entire night was one poignant moment after another. Life's testament to surprise connections. And I loved it.

I want that always.

- N

Super World

I'm back where I was.

Where I am.

Who I am?

Maybe not that one just yet.

Tonight's just so... so... regular?

... As I sip my $65 bottle of sherry and write on a blog aimed at lonely strangers in NYC.

I'm just so jaded. In some ways, anyway.

"For the sake of making a statement, let's make our presence known.
We'll show up in our outfits we planned ahead,
meeting the qualifications for a special occasion.
Today is our day."

What gets me through the day? Is it the hope of love? Or a made bed at "home"? Or my expensive bottles of wine I can't afford?

I like to think you help. The ones reading this.

: / I hope you're out there.

I miss things I once had. Things I let slip away. I used to have all of my favorite people at arm's reach. I need to start getting them back.

"Super Boy. And Super Girl. Well I've got a question for your Super World. What gets you through? What gets you past? And how do you, fly so fast?

Is it the fame? 'Cuz everybody knows, who you are.

But it cant be the same. 'Cuz I Hear your from outer space. Pretty Far.

And Super Boy's got his problems, and Girl's got her hangups.

And I know that it can't be easy to be,

Super boy. In a thankless world, these days."

- N

Give Up?

It's what happens when inevitablility meets cause and effect.

Those that you've hurt, ultimately hurt you.

So when do I begin?

How do I realize what I will reap before I sow?

For You #1:

I'm sorry. I've neglected you for dead at times. I've been a bad friend. I've taken advantage of you, intentionally or not. But I love you. And nothing could ever change that. No matter how long you might try and hate me.

For You #2:

I hope you got what you wanted. Ultimately what this blog is for.
You're not alone. You've never been alone. And now you have it on paper.


I just want to sleep. I want to smile again whole heartedly. And I'm starting to find people to do that with again.

It's a nice feeling.

Belonging.

"We never grew out of this feeling that we won't give up."

It's a cold night. Bundle up.

-N

Mudd Coffee

Sometimes I stop in at Mudd and sit for awhile.

Today I bought another notebook and a pen. And I sat down and wrote in it. I wrote about what was on my mind. Like always. But then I left them behind.

I wrote on the front, "Write In Me." and on the inside, "Tell Me Your Secrets."

That's my dream.

That atleast twice-a-day, a stranger in Union Sq. or somewhere else, gives a note to another just like I do. Packed with their pain, their love, their heart. That everyone else chisels away at this goddamn ice block that society has frozen around our soul. Or that we let down the drawnbridge that a bad childhood rolled up.

That we can all be vulnerable. To feel again.

That NYC won't be a cold place.

It's what I think about all the time.

: / "What do you see, when you look at me? Do you take me for a fool?"

I guess when it comes down to it. I put my faith in strangers. When I told someone that recently, they said, "Unreliable." and she's totally right.

But nothing in life is reliable. So I'm gonna get hurt, right?

"Does it comfort you to know you fought the good fight?"

Maybe it does.

-N

p.s. I'll check back in a week or so at Mudd to see if anyone wrote in it. If you're reading this and you did, draw me a little smiley in a corner so I know. <3

Buzzed

It's been about a week since I handed out my last note.



My lifes been crazy buzy.



justbuzzbuzzbuzzfuss.


I'm ready to relax for two days.


I plan on writing atleast two tomorrow and handing them out.



If you got a note on the train seat next to you recently. You're the first person that I've given one to that I never saw.


Jeez. I feel like I'm inches away from everything that I've shoved to the back of my mind. Listening to emo. Alone in my room. Coming off the buzz of a good night.


Well. Now she knows I write notes to strangers. But I'm going to try my hardest to not show her this page. Or lonelyny.com . It will be up soon. Hopefully.


This is a lame ass post. This is a lame ass night. I feel like crap now. It's just been so long since I tossed out some feelings.

You can expect a better one soon.

- N

You = Blind

It sucks to hear “I won’t wait for you anymore.”

It sucks to know that the bridge is on fire. And starting to burn.

“Do you miss her so bad it hurts?”

Well, I’m sorry about it. I’m sorry that I’m just not strong enough to tell you all these things. I’m so fucking sorry it makes me angry.

And you.

Well, you’ll just never get it. And by the time you see what I wrote here. It might be too late.

“Here’s the things I meant but never said.”

For you:

SHUT UP. If you’d just take any. Any. Kind of initiative. If you’d willingly show me you could worry less and have fun. If you could be that first surprise kiss. If you could pull me aside and show me that you still love me and I still love you.

Things would be different.
“We’d turn our music down…”
Things would change.
“....and we’d whisper…”
But you won’t.

“…Say what you’re thinking right now.”
Because you’re too fucking scared. And too fucking stubborn.
“We never grew out of this feeling that we won’t give up.”

Self-Centered Thinking

I’m thinking about starting to hide notes. I have been thinking about the idea for a few weeks now. Then Dash. C. came on. “This Ruined Puzzle” if anyone is interested.

Does he ever get the girl?

I love this idea of a movie life. And it’s tending to unfold just so for me. I wait and let things happen sometimes. Or go on a whim. And most of the time, it flows together with near-seamlessness.

This apartment is dead to me now. All but empty, even though no one has even moved out yet. I just feel like. Like there are more bridges to cross. More adventures to be had. But what can you do? I guess I just need to accept that knowns are not always a bad thing.

I’ve been considering caving to her again. Giving into everything I’ve been trying to prove to myself I don't need. That I can be strong alone. I can't even explain all the things that might mean. Or would it only mean that I really am just doing what I want for fun.

That seems like one gigantic trap of a statement.

Maybe I’m just nervous to fall into something so comfortable, when I know, I’ve only ever even had sex with one other person.

I don’t want to regret anything in this life. But it’s hard to know ahead of time what you will regret.

“You’re taste still lingers on my lips, like I just place them upon yours and I starve. I starve for you. But this new diet’s liquid. And dulling to the senses. And it is crude. But it will do.”

If this weren’t a blog for pouring out your thoughts, I would call myself self-centered.

Maybe I am.

Am I?

I hope not.

-N

A Place Called Home

I'm getting worried now. It's 4 days till move out, and I dont have a place to live. And it seems utterly painful to sleep on someone's couch. There's just something so vulnerable about it. I need my very own place to retreat to.

I hope something works out. I'd almost rather be homeless than knocking on the doors of friends and family for help. I'm just too god damn proud for my own good I guess.

But everyone needs something in this world to hold onto. Mine is my independance. I need to not need. To live just fine on my own.

I told someone today I try and make my writing simple but profound.

I wonder if I do.

I hope I do.

So... I will give you the example of what I told him.

I could write something like this,

"I've come to know all that which New York has to offer it's inhabitants and passionate travelers. And over time, I've watched the painted glamour peel off slowly to reveal grit and grime. And imperfections in what was once impervious and immaculate."

But instead, I prefer this,

"I've lived in New York for most of my life. And I've seen a lot. And in that time, I learned this. New York will fuck you."

Sometimes, I wonder why I live here. And why I write this stuff down.

But the hope that one other person out there is reading this and feeling some solice in another person thinking the same thing. Feeling the same way. Maybe even feeling a little better.

Well, that seems a good reason.

Almost Autumn

I'm feeling twisty inside tonight. FUCK.

Sometimes you just want to feel loved. Even if you think you don't deserve it. Even if you really don't. Everyone needs to sometimes. And that's my night tonight. I'm feeling that same longing that pulls me to Union Square. I might follow it.

"And if you'd like. Some other time. I'd like to introduce you to the finer things. And if we survive. And I'm alive, I'd like to say how beautiful I think you are."

Why can't people see the ones in life that will always be there. That's why I just flat out say it. I will always be here for you. I will stay.

FUCK. Its a night tonight. A cold, lonely Fall night. And Winter is coming. And I'm still terrified.

I could never ever tell her that I want it again. Because I'd have it again in an instant. And I guess that makes me messed up. Maybe I'll just never be happy with what I've got. Maybe I'm a sham. Maybe I hand out notes to get rid of feelings that I should be telling the ones I love.

But Maybe. I love you all.

One things for sure. Every pretty girl steals my heart. You jerks.

"Hold it now. You've got everyone convinced you're alright. When no one else is quite as vulnerable."

If they only knew. If you only knew. I'm supposed to be writing these to feel better, right? It could be a long time. I bought a 60 pack of standard black pens. So next time you see a boy chewing one holding a folded note. You know, He's in it for the long haul. - N

Crash

"It says Hold on and take this ride. And set aside, all the times, When you collide. Then you leave me here to die. Heres the things I mean't, but I never said." - Starting Line

Here I am again at a crossroads. To take a winding path that looks curvy and treacherous, or to head out to a great open, often travelled road.

Ring, Ring. The curvy one just called.

Anyway. I'm thinking it's time again. Time to do what I did three years ago. To throw everything to the wind. To throw every little care and inhibition.

You'd be surprised how quickly they build back up. A worry here. A self-doubt there. It piles on quickly.

I remember it still. Screaming at the top of my lungs. Screaming at a town. Screaming at a river. Screaming it all out. It felt good.

So maybe, I've lost my way in my own philosophies a little bit. I should be less anxious. Take more risks. And think slightly. Just slightly. Less about the repurcussions of my actions.

I'm closing my eyes. And fully expecting to trip over branches.

Box of Us

I listened to this music all night. 5 Songs on repeat. Hours on end.
And when I woke up this morning, I took a shower, and turned it back on.

It’s hard to let go of something you know brought you joy. Hard to accept that, sometimes, good things come to an end for a good reason. Be it work or love, it always seems like something can be fixed. Something could be done differently. And then your brain begins to play the what-if-game.

Well, I’m getting tired of having a one track mind.

It’s funny though. If you asked anyone close to me. Well, almost anyone. What was on my mind constantly? I don’t really think anyone would be even close.

No one realizes how much you hurt until you tell them.

I finally mailed the box yesterday. It seemed like an insurmountable obstacle. It also seems trivial. A dress. A picture. A book or two. But it was really the final release. Sending out that piece of paper that I hung on my wall for over a year took a lot out of me. Like packaging and taping up a box full of hopeful dreams.

I got to the post office 10 minutes late. The nice postmaster smiled and let me in.

I’m changing the music now. And with any luck, my day too.

Guess I’ve been doing a lot of changing lately.

If you want to listen along. It’s The Starting Line; Make Yourself At Home e.p.

Union Square Beginnings

Yesterday, I wrote a letter. I decided to pour out everything that was on my head. Something like a journal entry. With everything I thought out on the table. To clear my mind, and let me say the things I couldn't out loud. And then. I realized I had no one to give it to.

So I sit in Union Square, NYC, surrounded by people, but completely alone. And then I realized. Everyone sitting around me. Quiet. Intune with only their own world and feelings. Is just like me. They are here because they crave connection. Subconciously or not.

Some are more upfront about it. Like me.

So I addressed my letter. "You, whoever you are." And as I folded it, just like a highschool note. I wrote on the back. "You look lonely too."

And I walked. I circled the crowds and looked for the loneliest looking girl I could find. And after about 20 minutes of circling I saw her. I walked right up. And didn't say anything. I just held out the note, she looked up and took it. Then I turned my back and walked away.

5 minutes passed. And she found me, smiling. And thanked me.

Well, Thank you, Maria. I wish I hadn't been speechless.

I'm gonna keep writing. And sharing. And making connections in small ways. And healing my broken little world. One page at a time. - N