Writer

Mary the alcoholic was wondering if she could come over. She used to wait for a proper invitation just like her mother taught her like she knows to be appropriate but she is tired of waiting and wondering so she has jumped the gun, so to speak, and was hoping you would have her over for dinner. This week. How about tonight?

There is something about New York City that feels familiar, like you lived here once before, or spent summers here playing stickball in the streets using potholes for bases and rinsing your sweaty head off under the rusty drinking fountain spout. And yet you are new to the city. These streets are not yours and never have been and let's get serious, you have never played baseball in the street using a stick. But walking from Avenue to Avenue, sticking to the shady side of the street feels so normal and ingrained.

Sometimes I think that if there is not photographic evidence of it occurring, it did not happen. Or if I do not write about it, I will forget about it, which is kind of like it did not happen. But really, I base it on whether or not I have relayed the story to my little sister. That is the test, the proof that something occurred and was real and has been stored away in my library of memories and tales. Today I rode my bike down FDR Drive along the East River and then I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge.

I am enough for you, but are you enough for me?
Take this, and a little more, but you should know
you are not taking anything at all.
That wasn't me, you see,
And today, this me is merely.
What surprises me is that you are pleased with the slice I have served you.
The sample I have given you is enough for you
and it is enough for you to take it
without wondering if it is enough for me.
You take and you smile and your grin lengthens into a gaping cavern dripping dark,
at least that is what I see,

The thing about Crissy is that she is hip without being overt about it. Understated is the word, I suppose. Or unassuming. She is incredibly helpful, which some would say is one of the most important qualities to have, maybe even top five. Crissy is a lithe speed demon who fears very little, but please do not accuse her of being naïve. Let's be clear, she likes to race, but she also believes in safety first. She is not blemish free, no way, though her loveliness outshines her dents and rust to the point that you really have to look twice, look deeply, to see the imperfections.

Three weeks. 67 apartment inquiries sent. 5 apartments viewed in real life, hundreds viewed online. Zero apartments rented. Resume sent to 6 different salons. 3 salon interviews. 1 salon offer (1 salon turned down) and 2 salon potentials. Dates with 6 different dudes. Lots of dates. 2 batches of cookies baked. 1 partial meltdown. 1 heart to heart with my best friend that is allowing me to crash at her place. 3 encounters with friends from San Francisco in town for business. Mom's flight booked for June. 2 new friends I adore.

Today I will start my latest screenplay. I should update my blog. What about that script writing challenge I read about? Could be fun. Maybe Shaan and Jess will want to do it. I should try out a different dog park tomorrow, Ma'amie will like that. What about the Gramercy salon-is that really where I want to work? Should I keep doing hair? I should call Fabio and set something up. I need to look into nursing school. No, not yet. Remember you decided to get settled into the city first before you started investigating schools? But when will I ever get settled into the city?

My name is Lacy Telles and I am fastidiously on time. I am an American city girl and I know what time means to the busy people of American cities. My name is Lacy Marie Telles and I used to be fastidiously on time. In the past two weeks, I have been late more times than not, and though I have been accrediting it to my newness to the neighborhoods, to the unpredictability of the New York Subway system, that is a lie. Argentina is to blame, and I have accepted it.

Thank you, United States. Thank you for welcoming me back with open arms holding up a tray of cheap cocktails in one hand and a hotel key shaped like an American Express card in the other. You move me with your all-you-can-eat seafood buffet and your plastic enhanced enhancements. Take my gratuity, what would be considered gratuitous in Argentina, and smile with straight, white teeth and pretend like my generosity is appreciated, though it is slim. I read your judgment on my scantness, and I want to tell you that I have been unemployed for two months, but I don't.

Washington Square Park is both a square and a park, and I have become a regular. Usually I take my dogs to the fenced off oval of dirt in the southwest corner of the square, but today I left them at home. Please do not tell Ma'amie. She has been rolling around in my unemployment with a grin on her grizzled face and has subsequently taken it for granted that all free afternoons are devoted to her tennis ball drills and social time with new dogs.

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