WanderTales: Concrete Jungle
Preface
And there it was. Kissed my skin, and oh God it felt so good! It was the most sensual touch I'd ever felt. I knew this one would be special. An experience like never before. I opened up my soul to it and gladly accepted penetration into my pores. Standing there, wide-eyed, jittery, and ultimately more vulnerable than a broken heart, I let it in. Summer, here I am, have your way...
My story
Monday, June 10, 2013
Deep breaths and high elevation
I've boarded this plane. My first time flying. For some reason though a million thoughts infiltrate my head. Palms sweating like a prayer that lasts too long in church. Help me. But you know what; this moment must be remembered, hung up on my trophy shelf. It's as if walking down the cooped narrow airplane aisle was a direct connection to me stepping into a new space in my life. I knew it would be difficult to maneuver about, and I would have to get in where I fit it. I clenched my carry on and my always abnormally large handbag and trekked to my seat. Just like I imagined, a confined space with just enough space for me, which warned others to stay out of my lane and informed me that there was no room for extra baggage. Two men entered my row, strangers. Two black men to be exact, one in business attire reading the newspaper probably headed back to New York to close a financial deal, and the other was way more relaxed as if going to visit family or friends. I knew their motive was none of my business, but oh, their presence was quite relevant. It's possible that they represent the relationships with individuals that I will come in contact with upon this journey not yet explored. A delay. Why? If I've learned nothing else, there is for sure always going to be a delay. Point blank. Take off. When we finally get off, its bumpy unsteady, and a little slow to begin with, but the view from up there took every ounce of my breath away in an instant, but now that I think about it, it could have been the elevation.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
I stood, collecting my items at our terminal. The moment I took in the New York City air, it reeked of crime and fashion, pleasure and cigarettes, and an overbearing cloud of exhaust; and you know what, I was in love. The smirk on my face, it said something. I swear it spoke loud and clear, "Move the hell over, I have arrived.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Smack, Pop, that was the sound of my lip gloss and more importantly, my attitude. After being rushed into a car service van and having my luggage beat down into a trunk that had the potential to burden a human body, I was speechless. Not to mention, no more than about forty-five seconds into the car ride, I was missing every nose hair that I'd ever developed in life, and for that I'd like to thank the car driver. Most times people say no offense, well honey in this case, I mean ALL offense. 3 week old body odor seeped from every inch of this reckless speeding vehicle. His scent put me in a state of dismay, not to mention, I'd never been closer to seeing the light than this day. He flung us around this city as if we were going head to head with grizzlies through a ravine in the Rockys. I'd been entered into a battle that I had not been conditioned to fight, and boy was I losing. As if the ride shouldn't have been free already due to the treacherous torture we'd been through , this son of a biscuit eating bulldog has the nerve to suggest exactly how much we should tip. At that very moment I knew, this city was no place for the meek. Those souls would simply be chewed up and spit out into the dusty crevices of the New York abyss.
Later, Wednesday, June 12, 2013
The door to our condo flew open. We were in the heart of Harlem. Needless to say, this was no upper east, but I was already knee deep. Being the fatty that I am, it wasn't a moment after we got settled that I threw out the suggestion to walk the leery yet culture filled streets to find a bite. Linked closely, almost to touch (but realistically not connected enough to be in such an unfamiliar area). We passed the projects and saw a seemingly drunk white man taking an extreme tongue lashing from a relatively small Latin man. He yelled out, "Aye yo fagot, if I see you around here without my money again, I'll f*** you up", in a thick northern mixed with Spanish accent. For some reason though, I didn't feel a certain way, not even a chill came over me. I was comfortable. Although, I can remember clenching my bright yellow shoulder bag thinking to myself, "Eyes open, walk fast, head down,don't stare" and again "Eyes open, walk fast, head down, don't stare". A few blocks away, we found this local steak restaurant. Man that was some good food. I could feel my heart growing a strong connection already.
Friday, June 14, 2013
There I was face to face with the metro. I knew this moment would come sooner or later. In my head as an untraveled girl growing up, I always had this vision that the subway would be an eery, rodent infested, underground safe haven for the homeless. I was wrong. Although quite unsanitary and not quite a children's playground, it was almost parallel to a human body. It had body parts and limbs that served individual purposes. It had so much soul and a heartbeat. To top it off, the subway made mistakes, was a little impatient like we tend to be from time to time, and stayed in constant motion like most New Yorkers do. Aside from the bustling passengers who were also getting off at Broadway, we spotted 3 young black men starting up some sort of performance. They were dancers with a full and true "Broadway show" and the element that gave this human body the breath of life. I was amazed. I immediately emptied my pocket into their bucket as if it was a collection plate.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Gathering my breath, I took in all there was to embrace. I'd never seen so many lights. I felt like a kid going to see the light show on Christmas eve. The thing is, I never do, but I'd kept my shades on like one of the cool Rihanna Navy girls, but that wasn't the case. It was just so freakin bright that I'd forgotten it was 2:00 A.M. opposed to the afternoon 2 that it felt like. I felt so free that it's almost hard to describe. Where else can you shop at Mac or ForeverXXI at these hours comfortably. As if the mere fact that no one had slowed down wasn't enough, it actually felt like the pace may have even picked up. I was ready to join the race.
A Highlight.
"I'll take a White Russian. Thank you", I said to the bartender as we sat at the bar in some swanky Irish pub. She ordered a Bloody Mary, which says a lot about a person. They can handle the heat. I could listen to her talk for hours. This girl was different. Talking to her was like speaking with eight different people at once. Not because she seemed crazy, but because she was so cultured and wise. She spoke about her art but not in a condescending way. It was as if her art understood her more than she did it. She pulled me away from myself into her world, and I'd yet to even see a single piece of her work. I knew about her from a single exchange. It had nothing to do with what she said but everything to do with how she said it.
Written on another day.
Our point in visiting New York was to appear and support this worldly Nigerian Artist. Today was the day. After roaming around the city like a hopeless tourist I was overdue for some hopeless romance. I knew that a gallery viewing would be the anecdote to my crying feet and empty soul. The "Fashion District" beckoned us for the show. I was so elated to be in an area of New York where the girls looked like us and the men, oh the men were, well let's just say... my cup of tea! Chelsea felt like home. I recall thinking that if this life sails me to New York, I'd surely pick Chelsea. However, our reason for coming, aforementioned, slapped me in the face at the entrance. I shook culture's hand in this room of humble high-rollers. Then I saw her. This girl, I knew she was amazing without even hearing her speak. You know how some people have "that thing" and you just can't put your finger on it. Well she had it and plenty of it. In a traditional sense she wasn't pretty, but everything about her was beautiful and pulled me in. Her hair was so dark and brassy, her skin equal parts cocoa and silk, and her style quite remarkable and vintage yet forthcoming and anti trendy. She carried a camera. She captured me. Truly, she captured me in more ways than 1. Her camera did most of the work, while her aura dotted the i's.
Open Up.
We knocked on the door to what appeared to be residential treasure. To my surprise, I'd walked into a goldmine filled knee deep with vibrant personalities and human capital. The DJ adding her feminine touch, models with figures sent directly from Aphrodite, and the mastermind artist herself gave this place a sweet and sexy edge that no one could deny. I took a moment to myself in a quiet corner to simply inhale all that these four walls had to offer and of course to sip the burgundy spirits. This place had a way of making you feel at home while forcing you to want to be better. J came up and sat beside me. She asked if something was wrong. I explained to her the exact opposite, that everything was perfect. She and I sat and discussed the reality of our current surroundings and where we saw ourselves in the future. She understood me, and from that day I knew we'd literally be friends for forever.
Today
Oh how I wanted to scream. But come on, I was in a RED, skintight, bareback, mesh peek lined masterpiece for crying out loud. This was just no dress I tell you, this was more like an extra layer of satin skin. This dress and I danced together creating a work of art throughout the empty spaces of that dance floor. If I'm phrasing correctly, this may have even been an outer body experience. Although, more than likely it was the overpriced top shelf booze that streamed so quickly through my veins that made the whole club appear to be an abstract blur. "Damn you birthday dress and alcohol. You've struck again", I thought to myself. Now by this time the guys were all hovering like a wild pack and I was their prime cut. This one though, he was different, not in an attractive way but I can't explain it. I swear he must have read my awkwardly yet confident body language that screamed damsel in distress. I don't even know his name, but he helped me weasel away from this crowd and back to my comfort zone, my friends. For that, this John Doe will forever be written on paper.
In Closing.
There were several other happenings that made this adventure adventurous, but I purposely left them out. Some stories are better told than written. I will say, boarding that plane home, I was different. I was better. I was deeper, greater, and more beautiful than I'd ever felt before.
And there it was. Kissed my skin, and oh God it felt so good! It was the most sensual touch I'd ever felt. I knew this one would be special. An experience like never before. I opened up my soul to it and gladly accepted penetration into my pores. Standing there, wide-eyed, jittery, and ultimately more vulnerable than a broken heart, I let it in. Summer, here I am, have your way...
My story
Monday, June 10, 2013
Deep breaths and high elevation
I've boarded this plane. My first time flying. For some reason though a million thoughts infiltrate my head. Palms sweating like a prayer that lasts too long in church. Help me. But you know what; this moment must be remembered, hung up on my trophy shelf. It's as if walking down the cooped narrow airplane aisle was a direct connection to me stepping into a new space in my life. I knew it would be difficult to maneuver about, and I would have to get in where I fit it. I clenched my carry on and my always abnormally large handbag and trekked to my seat. Just like I imagined, a confined space with just enough space for me, which warned others to stay out of my lane and informed me that there was no room for extra baggage. Two men entered my row, strangers. Two black men to be exact, one in business attire reading the newspaper probably headed back to New York to close a financial deal, and the other was way more relaxed as if going to visit family or friends. I knew their motive was none of my business, but oh, their presence was quite relevant. It's possible that they represent the relationships with individuals that I will come in contact with upon this journey not yet explored. A delay. Why? If I've learned nothing else, there is for sure always going to be a delay. Point blank. Take off. When we finally get off, its bumpy unsteady, and a little slow to begin with, but the view from up there took every ounce of my breath away in an instant, but now that I think about it, it could have been the elevation.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
I stood, collecting my items at our terminal. The moment I took in the New York City air, it reeked of crime and fashion, pleasure and cigarettes, and an overbearing cloud of exhaust; and you know what, I was in love. The smirk on my face, it said something. I swear it spoke loud and clear, "Move the hell over, I have arrived.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Smack, Pop, that was the sound of my lip gloss and more importantly, my attitude. After being rushed into a car service van and having my luggage beat down into a trunk that had the potential to burden a human body, I was speechless. Not to mention, no more than about forty-five seconds into the car ride, I was missing every nose hair that I'd ever developed in life, and for that I'd like to thank the car driver. Most times people say no offense, well honey in this case, I mean ALL offense. 3 week old body odor seeped from every inch of this reckless speeding vehicle. His scent put me in a state of dismay, not to mention, I'd never been closer to seeing the light than this day. He flung us around this city as if we were going head to head with grizzlies through a ravine in the Rockys. I'd been entered into a battle that I had not been conditioned to fight, and boy was I losing. As if the ride shouldn't have been free already due to the treacherous torture we'd been through , this son of a biscuit eating bulldog has the nerve to suggest exactly how much we should tip. At that very moment I knew, this city was no place for the meek. Those souls would simply be chewed up and spit out into the dusty crevices of the New York abyss.
Later, Wednesday, June 12, 2013
The door to our condo flew open. We were in the heart of Harlem. Needless to say, this was no upper east, but I was already knee deep. Being the fatty that I am, it wasn't a moment after we got settled that I threw out the suggestion to walk the leery yet culture filled streets to find a bite. Linked closely, almost to touch (but realistically not connected enough to be in such an unfamiliar area). We passed the projects and saw a seemingly drunk white man taking an extreme tongue lashing from a relatively small Latin man. He yelled out, "Aye yo fagot, if I see you around here without my money again, I'll f*** you up", in a thick northern mixed with Spanish accent. For some reason though, I didn't feel a certain way, not even a chill came over me. I was comfortable. Although, I can remember clenching my bright yellow shoulder bag thinking to myself, "Eyes open, walk fast, head down,don't stare" and again "Eyes open, walk fast, head down, don't stare". A few blocks away, we found this local steak restaurant. Man that was some good food. I could feel my heart growing a strong connection already.
Friday, June 14, 2013
There I was face to face with the metro. I knew this moment would come sooner or later. In my head as an untraveled girl growing up, I always had this vision that the subway would be an eery, rodent infested, underground safe haven for the homeless. I was wrong. Although quite unsanitary and not quite a children's playground, it was almost parallel to a human body. It had body parts and limbs that served individual purposes. It had so much soul and a heartbeat. To top it off, the subway made mistakes, was a little impatient like we tend to be from time to time, and stayed in constant motion like most New Yorkers do. Aside from the bustling passengers who were also getting off at Broadway, we spotted 3 young black men starting up some sort of performance. They were dancers with a full and true "Broadway show" and the element that gave this human body the breath of life. I was amazed. I immediately emptied my pocket into their bucket as if it was a collection plate.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Gathering my breath, I took in all there was to embrace. I'd never seen so many lights. I felt like a kid going to see the light show on Christmas eve. The thing is, I never do, but I'd kept my shades on like one of the cool Rihanna Navy girls, but that wasn't the case. It was just so freakin bright that I'd forgotten it was 2:00 A.M. opposed to the afternoon 2 that it felt like. I felt so free that it's almost hard to describe. Where else can you shop at Mac or ForeverXXI at these hours comfortably. As if the mere fact that no one had slowed down wasn't enough, it actually felt like the pace may have even picked up. I was ready to join the race.
A Highlight.
"I'll take a White Russian. Thank you", I said to the bartender as we sat at the bar in some swanky Irish pub. She ordered a Bloody Mary, which says a lot about a person. They can handle the heat. I could listen to her talk for hours. This girl was different. Talking to her was like speaking with eight different people at once. Not because she seemed crazy, but because she was so cultured and wise. She spoke about her art but not in a condescending way. It was as if her art understood her more than she did it. She pulled me away from myself into her world, and I'd yet to even see a single piece of her work. I knew about her from a single exchange. It had nothing to do with what she said but everything to do with how she said it.
Written on another day.
Our point in visiting New York was to appear and support this worldly Nigerian Artist. Today was the day. After roaming around the city like a hopeless tourist I was overdue for some hopeless romance. I knew that a gallery viewing would be the anecdote to my crying feet and empty soul. The "Fashion District" beckoned us for the show. I was so elated to be in an area of New York where the girls looked like us and the men, oh the men were, well let's just say... my cup of tea! Chelsea felt like home. I recall thinking that if this life sails me to New York, I'd surely pick Chelsea. However, our reason for coming, aforementioned, slapped me in the face at the entrance. I shook culture's hand in this room of humble high-rollers. Then I saw her. This girl, I knew she was amazing without even hearing her speak. You know how some people have "that thing" and you just can't put your finger on it. Well she had it and plenty of it. In a traditional sense she wasn't pretty, but everything about her was beautiful and pulled me in. Her hair was so dark and brassy, her skin equal parts cocoa and silk, and her style quite remarkable and vintage yet forthcoming and anti trendy. She carried a camera. She captured me. Truly, she captured me in more ways than 1. Her camera did most of the work, while her aura dotted the i's.
Open Up.
We knocked on the door to what appeared to be residential treasure. To my surprise, I'd walked into a goldmine filled knee deep with vibrant personalities and human capital. The DJ adding her feminine touch, models with figures sent directly from Aphrodite, and the mastermind artist herself gave this place a sweet and sexy edge that no one could deny. I took a moment to myself in a quiet corner to simply inhale all that these four walls had to offer and of course to sip the burgundy spirits. This place had a way of making you feel at home while forcing you to want to be better. J came up and sat beside me. She asked if something was wrong. I explained to her the exact opposite, that everything was perfect. She and I sat and discussed the reality of our current surroundings and where we saw ourselves in the future. She understood me, and from that day I knew we'd literally be friends for forever.
Today
Oh how I wanted to scream. But come on, I was in a RED, skintight, bareback, mesh peek lined masterpiece for crying out loud. This was just no dress I tell you, this was more like an extra layer of satin skin. This dress and I danced together creating a work of art throughout the empty spaces of that dance floor. If I'm phrasing correctly, this may have even been an outer body experience. Although, more than likely it was the overpriced top shelf booze that streamed so quickly through my veins that made the whole club appear to be an abstract blur. "Damn you birthday dress and alcohol. You've struck again", I thought to myself. Now by this time the guys were all hovering like a wild pack and I was their prime cut. This one though, he was different, not in an attractive way but I can't explain it. I swear he must have read my awkwardly yet confident body language that screamed damsel in distress. I don't even know his name, but he helped me weasel away from this crowd and back to my comfort zone, my friends. For that, this John Doe will forever be written on paper.
In Closing.
There were several other happenings that made this adventure adventurous, but I purposely left them out. Some stories are better told than written. I will say, boarding that plane home, I was different. I was better. I was deeper, greater, and more beautiful than I'd ever felt before.