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honeyknome · 6 months

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Letters from Vancouver

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evlenmeseksmi · 8 days

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HAPPYBIRTHDAYTOME🍻

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versaceeevixen · 1 month

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Seven Stages of... Ego Death (Part 2) Edited

It was Thursday and I was on my way to my hair appointment. I drove through the rain feeling excited. Why is it every time I get my hair done it rains? Why can't Gawd let me be great? I made my hand into the Che Vuoi (Pinched fingers) hand gesture. I grabbed something I bought from the store that was in a grocery bag. I went into the hair salon, dodging the fat raindrops.

The salon was completely empty, the stylist welcomed me in the shampoo chair. As she was doing my hair she did it gently. Something I've never felt before when my hair was done, I was impressed. She was like an Aunty I never quite had, but wished I did. The ones that cooked food alongside your Grandmother on Thanksgiving. Her hair was dyed maroon cut short with curls. She wore the typical black on black on black apron, shirt, and pants combo that hair stylists wear.

"Wait can you add this?" Shuffling in my black plastic bag.

She nodded as she gently brushed my hair. "You need a trim."

"I'm scared, I normally don't get trims with new stylists."

She told me that she was only going to trim a certain amount, and she did exactly that.

She handed me the mirror, blonde streaks of hair were highlighted against my black-brown hair. They were extensions. I was too scared to dye my hair, so this was the best option.

I headed out the door, using the plastic bag as an umbrella turning towards her while halfway out the threshold. I thanked her for her service and said "I will be back."

She smiled and said "No you won't."

She really did say this, I shit you not. I wished I asked her why.

That was really weird, and I started to let it go as I turned my bluetooth on. Luckily it worked first try as my bluetooth was starting to get finicky as it was a year 2011 Hyundai Sonata. I had an hour to go back to school, to catch my meeting with my RD.

I finally made it back to campus, the rain stopped finally. I didn't have to schlep around campus with a plastic bag on my head. I grabbed my pink leather backpack from Aldo. As I walked from the library parking lot, I was nervous as hell walking towards the building. As soon as I got inside I greeted my co-workers, they were my first set of co-workers in college. I've been working at the library since first semester of Freshman year.

"Hey, I have a meeting on Zoom in ten minutes can I take the call?"

"Yes, you can go straight back to the meeting room." My boss said.

I headed back towards the meeting room, and sat my backpack on the chair. I logged into my computer, as I got settled. I was waiting for the meeting to start. I quickly grabbed my Great-Grandma's funeral card from 2012 and started praying. I don't know how it ended up in my backpack. Honestly, It didn't matter. I prayed to whoever, whatever was willing to save my ass and importantly my job.

Then the meeting was starting... They asked me to explain the situation all over again. I explained it exactly like the first time. Then they responded that I was wrong for getting a Non-RA to help me find the key. Then they said some other things.

Everything happened so fast...

And then I was fired, and was given only 48 hours to move my stuff out. I was going to get charged if I was going to stay on campus. And that I should get an email on what to do next. After that I stopped listening. The meeting ended, and I remember slamming my computer lid down and running to my other boss and crying.

"I have to make a phone call I'm sorry." I was weeping, as I walked out towards the front door. My big white Fila Disruptor II shoes stomping on the ground as I covered my face.

I facetimed Big Sis as I was pacing back and forth in front of the library hoping she'd picked up. Thankfully, she wasn't in class and the call connected.

"I just got fired!" I said sobbing.

"Oh." She said

"I thought you said I was fine! You said you talked to our RD and told me I was fine!"

"I thought you weren't going to get invited back."

"I don't know what to do."

Big Sis pursed her lips into a straight line. "Well, I have to go."

"Bye." I cried hanging up.

I called Xandra, and told her I got fired. The first thing that she said was.

"I knew that you were going to get fired, and... honestly I saw that you weren't going to finish school here and-"

"So you didn't tell me?!" I yelled

"I didn't want to freak you out!"

"I'm freaking out now, Xandra! I literally had money that I've SPENT because I thought I was going to be fine! I should've listened to my gut instead of everyone else!"

"You're going to be fine-"

"I gotta go because I don't want to hear it anymore!" I ended the call.

I walked back into the library, and my boss told me to take the rest of the day off. I grabbed my stuff and headed to my car. I called Richie and asked him to meet me in my car. What the fuck just happened?

"What?" Said Richie "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry Vevi. I'm sorry you got fired."

"I gotta go to Home Depot and get boxes. Do you want to come?" Facing him with dried tears smiling.

"Honestly, yes, I'll skip my classes today."

"Maybe I'll just transfer to another school. Or do online classes. I remember during the first semester a guy asked me if I could work for Zumiez. Maybe he'll still need help"

The sun was coming out, as I was driving on the highway (Route 23!) to get to Home Depot. I was thinking how was I going to tell my Mother as my free housing and food was comprised. I rather call my brother and maybe he'll know how to tell her, and then I can give her the news gently.

"Call Kamran." I told my handsfree.

"Hello?" Kamran said

I told him everything, and he said...

"What? I'LL tell Mom. It'll be better that way."

"Okay, Thank you." I said

He hung up, and I finally arrived to Home Depot. I got out the car and looked at Richie.

"I love the blonde by the way."

"Thanks." I said

We walked into Home Depot, even though Home Depot was a home improvement store it felt so sterile. It smelled like wood chips and the floor was cold and grey like a corpse. When I was a kid I used to slide in my shoes on the floor, and steal the paint swatch card stocks.

"Oh gosh, he might be here." Richie said

"Who?"

I saw him, it was the guy from the Lazer Tag Boys that I was helping with the project. But I ended up not helping him. Here he comes sashaying towards us in his orange apron. I did not feel like talking to him, actually no one did.

"HEY GUYS!" He said

"Hi." I said dryly. "Do you know where the moving boxes are?"

"Why do you need MOVING boxes?" He pushed his black rectangle glasses back that his beady stressed eyes were hiding behind.

"It's for a project." I lied.

He kept talking at us about nonsense, as me and Richie kept staring at each other. He kept going on and on about his old female coworker not giving him a chance. Then she transferred to another Home Depot 'for some very strange reason'. At first I pitied him, now I'm annoyed.

"I'm sorry but we have to run." Richie said

We picked out medium, large, and small boxes. We checked them out and ran out of there.

"Yo, what the fuck." Ritchie said

"Yeah why are boxes so expensive?" I asked.

"No, no, I'm tired of him, he literally caused you to indirectly get fired. He's killing my high. I need another gummy"

I pulled out of the parking lot, I was heading towards the mall. Next on my list was to see if the manager at Zumiez was hiring still. My phone rang. It was Kamran.

"Oh shit it's my brother, shhhh." I said

I clicked the button on my steering wheel to pick up the call.

"Yeah, so Mom said you can't stay with her any more." He said.

Alright I'm ending this here, but the story gets even more fucked from here.

P.S. I edited some more to make it more detailed and coherent. I was just trying shit out this one because I just wanted to put this chapter out there. I shall release more content.

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#college #dealing with grief #grief #loss #university #writer things #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #youtube #home depot #moving #experience #youth #postaday #new jersey #jersey #Youtube

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thvmuse · 1 year

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Page 1 of 365, hope it's a good story.

#dark academia #chaotic academia #romantic academia #classic academia #dark academia aesthetic #coffeshop #books and libraries #poems and quotes #vintage #lovers #new poets society #new year #new moon #new jersey #new york #2023

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theshatterednotes · 10 months

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American poet Elinor Wylie

#Elinor Wylie #Wylie #American #America #USA #US #united states #poetry #poet #1885 #1928 #1920's #1880's #1800's #1900's #New Jersey #NJ #Somerville #NYC #NY #New York #New York City

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ashtrayfloors · 10 months

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LYNDA HULL (1954–1994)

Lynda Hull, like Walt Whitman, not to mention Dorothy Parker, William Carlos Williams, Allen Ginsberg, W. S. Merwin, Anne Waldman, Patti Smith, & Amiri Baraka, was born on the mystifying planet of New Jersey. Hull’s poems dazzle like the lighter fluid inside the sturdy, stainless steel lighter she stole from her father, a spout of spitfire, when she ran away from home at sixteen. “I remember this the way I’d remember a knife against my throat: that night, after the overdose, you told me to count, to calm myself,” Hull writes in “Counting in Chinese,” a poem derived, one assumes, from Hull’s years high as the moon on the lam in Chinatown, married to an outlaw gambler from Shanghai. Taking up her pen & mostly laying down her syringe, Hull was divorced & remarried to a poet by 1984, living on fugitive wonder & figurative language, lines of Hopkins & Akhmatova in Arkansas &, later, Indiana. Hull sometimes read her poems wearing dangling earrings & ankle-strapped high heels with her flapper’s hairdo dyed the same color as her beret. In addition to lighter fluid, Hull’s poems display the properties of rain just before it evaporates. Hull’s poems hold saltwater: “Tide of Voices” in Ghost Money (1986), “Shore Leave” in Star Ledger (1991); “Rivers into Seas” in The Only World (1995), published a year after her death in a car crash in Provincetown a few miles from the beach. When she wakes on the other side, Hull spends the hours she’s not writing poetry mulling figures of wonder with holy wine while listening to fugitive jazz. Sometimes Bird appears with his horn on the cover of Ornithology. Having retained her uncanny ability to channel varieties of sound, Hull scats to Bird like Ella Fitzgerald wiping sweat from her brow. Sometimes ghosts come by. When she was alive, Hull memorized the entirety of “The Bridge,” a fifty-six-page multi-section poem about the Brooklyn Bridge written by Hart Crane, Hull’s favorite poet, in 1923 when he was twenty-three & working as a copywriter in Cleveland, nine years before his suicide. Hart Crane comes by sometimes. Hull regales him with passages of “The Bridge” long into the eternal evening.

—Terrance Hayes, from “Two Tributes” (Boston Review, October 2021)

#terrance hayes #typography #poets #tribute #lynda hull #boston review #the mystifying planet of new jersey #<3

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ironfoxtypewriters · 1 year

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We were featured in the local Lacey Patch again!

Getting a lot of requests/new traction with this attention and I'm working hard to get new machines available for sale. Be on the lookout for a new ultra portable listing by next weekend.

#typewriter #writerscommunity #typing #writerslife #writers and poets #hanx #tomhanks #ironfoxtypewriters #typewriterrevolution #manual typewriter #new jersey

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horizontheartist · 1 year

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NEW VIDEO ALERT🚨🔥🔥🔥💨

****Check it Out****

“New Hip Hop Video”

Song: Shine Beyond Remix

Artist: Horizon feat. Funkghost

Producer: Dwayne “SoulHop” Golson

#usa🇺🇸 *Brand New* 🔥 Horizon - Shine Beyond (Remix) ft. Funkghost youtu.be/4Kvoe9EgzCM @HorizonSev @funkghost @getsoulhop @illsbororecords

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marion789 · 1 year

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Can someone give me a big heart ❤️👈I have been so 💔👈

#nikon #notebooks #notes #nostalgia #nintendo #nike #new rp #new poets society #novel #100 days of productivity #cricket news #new jersey

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heartsoundslikelove · 5 months

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ANNOUNCEMENT! Ways of Love by William Waldorf has been released

From the Author: How can we determine if what we’re feeling is love? This is a question everyone wants to answer. What is it I learn about what happens? I shared answers within Ways of Love, A Poetry Collection. I delve into the various stages of love, from joyful laughter to heartfelt chortles. The happiness that accompanies discovering the perfect match. Mistakes serve as building blocks.…

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#new book #new jersey #new jersey poets #new release #poetry #william waldorf

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binarymoves · 1 year

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SEO Company in New Jersey

To increase the visibility of your website and increase traffic to your business, are you looking for affordable SEO services in New Jersey? Binary Moves, we specialise in applying tested methods to optimise websites for search engines. Together, you and our team of specialists will develop a special plan that is tailored to your requirements and aims. To learn more about how we can use SEO to help your business expand, get in touch with us right away.

#seo agency new jersey #seo company in new jersey #nj seo #new poets society #nj seo agency #seo services nj #nirvana #SEO in NJ #Seo in New Jersey

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blackhistorychatgpt · 1 year

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History Lessons for my daughter - Part 7

Since this all started with mom's list of people I thought I would end this series with anothr grandmother scene :-)

Me: Write a scene where an African American Grandmother tells her granddaughter about Amiri Baraka

ChatGPT:

As the granddaughter sat at the feet of her grandmother, she listened eagerly as her grandmother began to speak about Amiri Baraka, a figure she had never heard of before.

"My dear child," the grandmother began, "let me tell you about Amiri Baraka, a great writer, poet, and activist who fought for black liberation and social justice."

The granddaughter's eyes widened as her grandmother continued to speak. She had never heard her grandmother speak with such passion about someone before.

"Amiri Baraka was born in Newark, New Jersey, in 1934," the grandmother said. "He was originally known as LeRoi Jones, but he later changed his name to Amiri Baraka to reflect his embrace of his African heritage."

The granddaughter leaned in closer, eager to hear more.

"Baraka was one of the leading voices of the Black Arts Movement, a cultural movement that aimed to promote black identity and culture through art and literature," the grandmother said. "He was a poet, playwright, and essayist who used his work to challenge the racism and oppression faced by black people in America."

The granddaughter nodded, taking in every word.

"Baraka's most famous work is probably his play 'Dutchman'," the grandmother said. "It's a powerful exploration of race and sexuality that still resonates with audiences today."

The granddaughter smiled, impressed by Baraka's accomplishments and legacy.

"Amiri Baraka was a brilliant and important figure in the fight for equality and justice for black people," the grandmother said. "He inspired many people with his words and actions, and his work will always be remembered."

The granddaughter nodded, feeling proud and inspired by the legacy of Amiri Baraka that her grandmother had shared with her.

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esstrauss · 2 years

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New Jersey spoken word debut.

#spoken word #poetry community #poetess #poet #new jersey

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ronk · 2 years

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Dr. Williams, Jersey Poet

Dr. Williams, a New Jersey poet #williamcarloswilliams #

Williams in his 1921 passport photo It’s the birthday of poet William Carlos Williams, born in Rutherford, New Jersey, on September 17, 1883. He the first of two sons of an English father and a Puerto Rican mother of French, Dutch, Spanish, and Jewish ancestry. Growing up in New Jersey, I was interested in Jersey poets when I was in high school and discovered Williams through a used copy of his…

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#New Jersey #poetry #poets #william carlos williams

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thvmuse · 1 year

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New york 🤍

#dark academia #chaotic academia #romantic academia #classic academia #dark academia aesthetic #coffeshop #books and libraries #poems and quotes #vintage #lovers #new york #new poets society #nostalgia #new jersey #summer #winter #spring #new york ny

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poetryofjacobmoses · 2 years

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“Apartment Poems” by Cord Moreski

I just read the latest chapbook by Cord Moreski. “Apartment Poems” is a collection of anecdotes which are masterfully written. Moreski’s formula includes memories which slowly unravel as you read. The climactic build leads to a sense of awareness which serves as a gut punch. My favorite poem is “Won’t You Be My Neighbor.” This centers around growing up being the poor kid on the block and being…

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#cord moreski #new jersey #New Jersey Poetry Renaissance #NJ Poetry Renaissance #poem #poet #Poetry #poetry community #poetrycommunity #poets of instagram #spoken word #writing community

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