12:03pm
Andrew is such a nice dude, he’s been teaching me a whole lot about NYC. Favorite quote from Andrew: “New York is a place you grow. Sky is the limit.” [points to the tallest high-rise in the vicinity]
He confessed his feelings for me last night over Instagram DM, and I appreciated his courage and honesty. To be honest, I have a little crush on him as well… but my year. Oh, my dreaded year of celibacy. I don’t want to bend or budge on that rule. I guess he is very attractive, older but hot, and most of all, seems like a gentleman. But my rule. I need to have INTEGRITY with my words. I need to be strong. What threw me off was when he texted me this morning telling me that some of his friends were talking shit about me, presumably about my substance use and mental health– STIGMA RINGS LOUD AND TRUE no matter where you go– and I have some strong feelings about that that I won’t get into right now.
8:47pm
Fourth time around, it never gets old. MJ is by far my favorite musical… it’s fucking genius. The choreography, the dance talent, the sheer ATHLETICISM and ARTISTRY that graces the biggest stages in the world… it’s Broadway we’re talking about. Every time I watch it I find something new to be inspired by. The ending of Thriller when he pulls the black curtains down and ends up all alone on stage, evidently defeated by his demons. Man, it’s ridiculous. Wicked. I am enamored by NYC talent. I have accepted I will not BE one of them, but I still draw inspiration from them, and be propelled to my artistic potential, even if the ceiling is a bit lower for someone like me:
- pre-champ ballroom
- social dance KWEEN
- generalist
- hip hop? proficient level
- jazz funk? more my anti-ballroom jam
- zouk? an itch to scratch.
- heels? YES. creativity galore.
- dance / somatic therapy
- yoga-dance
I wasn’t built for Broadway or big stages. I was meant for MORE. MY OWN REALISTIC ESCAPADE. My journey, my destiny. I’ll be just fine… I know that New York hasn’t changed, but I certainly have. After getting sober, I realize that I crave peace and stability and quiet. New York just doesn’t leave much room or those things. It’s a fun city to be in when you’re young and energetic and carefree, but I’m past that stage of my life, as this trip made readily apparent, and it’s taking me a bit of time to process this internal shift, but this is a sign that I am GROWING UP.
Face maskin’ right now. Chris’s presence is what it is… but I’d much prefer my alone time so I can vape in peace, is that bad? I realize that I’m low-key a loner. I like my solo time more than being in groups. I am great as far as first impressions go, but other than that, I am like a ghost. Floating in and out of people’s lives, leaving behind wonder and memories. I am unforgettable, but I make it a point to help people forget by my continue absence. I appear, put on a show, do my job to wow and inspire and impress, then disappear without a trace. I can’t get attached to people, and definitely not groups of people. Don’t get too close to me, it should come with a warning label. Kinda like how Will “Spencer” Brown said of himself. I can’t have people getting too close to me because I might hurt them– they are leeches, sucking me dry of energy– everyone just wants a bite out of Belicia, she’s brilliant. And then I ghost, avoid, disappear, leaving them blind-sighted and shook. I move on, and eventually, so do they. No, I don’t want to be forgettable. I make it a point to be as unforgettable as I can from the get-go, and leave before they can see what a farce I am. Just an imposter proclaiming to be a genius, but really, I’m pretty ordinary. Never good enough, never quite where I want to be. So no, I don’t want to get boba with your friends or play ping pong, I stick to what I’m good at, and I’ll impress you, but you can’t know me. I am unknowable, untouchable, and maybe it’s best to keep it that way. I can’t hurt you and you can’t hurt me.
10:35pm
Got all dolled up and glammed up, now inside The Rose nightclub/restaurant but there’s hardly anyone here. Honestly I kind of wanna go somewhere else but need to calibrate and figure it out. A rooftop of some kind sounds lovely… would have been a great night for a glass of wine and writing and deep chats with my imaginary friend, but alas. No drinking.
Made it to the beloved rooftop! Here at 230 and 5th and beside me presides the blue-tipped Empire State, the New York version of SF’s Sales Force Tower. This one stands proud as a queen and sharp as a knight’s sword. There are a bunch of neighboring high rises whose names escape me, they are the guards and dukes and duchesses whose blood bleeds blue and remind us ant-like humans to stay humble and true to our places. We are small, sinful, broken humans. But each of us is special… we all have a bit of God living in each of us. Do Him proud. Should probably keep working on the New York poem, my time here is drawing to a close.
LOL. I laid my boundary with a guy who approached me, told him I was celibate, even kissing was off-limits, and after I said that he bounced, leaving me with nothing but a cool handshake. His efforts bore no fruit. Man, this is empowering… I AM STICKING TO MY WORD. Hello, self-control. How do you do? It’s a foreign concept but I am growing acquainted with this new way of being. I kinda dig it. It’s not as thrilling or fun, but I can live with myself. I can go to bed at night PROUD of the woman, the WARRIOR QUEEN I am becoming. That fulfillment is far greater than any transient dopamine rush I’d get from drugs, sex, or impulse and thrill. That’s the stuff I should get addicted to, you know?
So I’m all alone on a rooftop bar, looking pretty but not trying to impress anyone. I think I’m gonna watch more of “My Oxford Year” on Netflix, it gets me in a contemplative, poetry-writing mood.
**there’s a cloud that looks like the Batman symbol**
**is that a single lone star I see in the night sky? Or is that an airplane? Ah, the latter. The glimmer is gone, supplanted by darkness.**
0 Comments