Birthday manifesto: I have so much to be grateful for including but not limited to my garden, the sudden clarity I had that shaving my head would not look “chic,” bicycles, Bruce Springsteen, what my therapist refers to as my “pillar of friendship,” earnestness, poetry, pickles, and Alex for taking these photos, guiding me all the while to “look more relaxed,” which of course, I’m still working on. 🩵
When I moved here 4 years ago, New York was what I needed when I needed it — nothing more.
Cheers to the town as filthy as me, as contradictory, and full of fear and flagrancy. To the way the park smells in the wooded section when I ride through after it rains; to all the cat callers and the place that taught me to holler back; to its ruinous speed; the mice uptown and the cool kids I never became downtown; to the superiority of cart coffee; and all the idols I met who elated and disappointed me.
To the mornings I crawled out of bed at 5AM in Harlem and held Maddie’s hand as we dragged ourselves to audition for plays at the Equity building, riding the 1 train down to Times Square, and how I’d stop to say hi to James at the book stand and how miserable and joyous we all were and the way we’d mumble “the armpit of the city” to ourselves or each other. To the theatre community, the poets, the political staffers. To all the goals and failures and the way I began to redefine what I wanted and how I wanted it. To the jobs I took for money and the bitterness that runs like a blue vein through the city about all those who don’t have to work for money. To money: that which I made and that which I threw away on $16 sandwiches.
I fucking love New York; the way it snores and sputters obscenities and laughs at me and wins and loses. To the Trader Joe’s snacks I ate on the subway before I got home. To stoop treasure hunters and delivery men beside me in the bike lanes in the dead of winter, pedaling.
This city. My city and also never My city. You shimmering whirring whimpering beauty. You’re a slut! You’re a stunner. You’re an elitist piece of shit. My home. My heart. I’ll be back. I just really hate the snow. I love you.
Join us this weekend for the New York Poetry Festival! I’ll be hosting the main stage all of Saturday and Sunday. 💫
When I was 19 and still in college, I drove from Michigan to New York with a friend despite my mother’s protestations (she was convinced we’d skid off the icy highway and wind up dead somewhere in Pennsylvania). But we made it! And I showed up at St. Mark’s Church in the Bowery early on the morning on January 1st to volunteer @poetry_project ’s annual New Year’s Day poetry marathon. I helped a man named Bob cook chili in the cramped kitchen so I wouldn’t have to pay for a ticket. And when I wasn’t serving pizza on paper plates to elderly beatniks, I sat enraptured in the sanctuary, listening and taking notes and thinking “this is the whole point.” Then Anne Waldman read. She was, to me, a mythical creature come to life: the embodiment of what it meant to dedicate your life to a craft and the community around it. I still read her poem Giant Night to remind myself what it means for a piece of writing to be timeless.
This weekend I’m honored to introduce @annewaldman as the headliner at the @poetrysocietyny ’s New York Poetry Festival, an event that brings me such joy to be a part of each year. Teenage Meredith would weep. Come join us!
Had such a blast playing Randi in The 4:30 Movie and getting a glimpse into Kevin Smith’s magical, zany cinematic universe! 🪐 Shooting the film in Jersey and getting to see it on the big screen was my 2024 point of pride.
There couldn’t have been a kinder, cooler cast and crew to create this with. And thank you to @thatkevinsmith for being the most generous director in the game. Coming soon to a retirement community near you! (You can stream it online)
On the day of the solar eclipse Tommy turned 30. We drove out of Mexico City and stopped for barbacoa en route to Marcos’ house in Bernal, situated beside a monolith: a giant boulder jutting into the sky.
The pics don’t reflect the day I drank too much mezcal and sprawled out reading on my side, resulting in a splotchy sunburnt left asscheek, but they do illustrate the joy of celebrating friendship in this place. How important it is to hold your people. Especially during grief. To say: even though it looks like a mountain it isn’t a mountain! It’s a monolith!
Last night, Tommy flew to LA for my birthday week.
A baker’s dozen of years growing up together and I’ll stay on this ride forever.
¡Hola, mi amor! ¡Hola, nueva decada!
I’m hosting The New York Poetry Festival this weekend and, as always, my heart’s about to explode. 💛
Here’s a single moody shot from my birthday week upstate, the info, and a beloved Anne Sexton poem.
The festival is free! It’s my favorite event of the year! Come say hi and re-up on joy and inspiration. I’ll be the one with a big goofy grin yelling into a microphone. 💫
Life and death! Love and heartbreak! Travel and stagnation! This year was duality, a lot of mid-day noodle feasts with Pete, and half-finished poems. I did things I’m proud of, I wasted time, and time became as important and meaningless as ever before. If you’re a nostalgic sap like me about endings, I just say: go easy. As much as I still feel drive and ambition and green monster envy, I’m working on being softer with myself and realizing, finally, that it’s also what I value most in other people. More than achievement or accolades.
So here’s a corny cruise through my little big year. To staying soft in 2023. 🥂
This week we lost my grandma, affectionately known as Susie B. She is the reason I love to read, talk to strangers, and create little voices for the animals in my garden.
She owned a children’s book business and sold titles in Spanish, French, German, and Italian until finally retiring at 80.
In 1953, when she was getting her masters at Columbia and the idea of traveling back to Europe was still too terrifying for most American Jews, she received a French National Government Fellowship to study at the Sorbonne and paused her degree to move to Paris. Every day my great grandmother wrote to her, begging her to come home. Meanwhile, my grandma wrote back about her adventures, the beauty. It’s tough to square this fearlessness with the woman who told me to “be careful” at every turn. It bolsters me though, to imagine that anxiety and courage coexisting. It makes me feel indelibly bonded to her.
Last month, I wandered around Paris, drank too much coffee, and read. I walked along the Seine and wondered if my grandmother wrote letters on the benches where I sat. I saw her in landmarks and museums, cafés and bookstores. I see her now in my typewriters, my messy stacks of books, and fellow travelers. From her I inherited my love of salty snacks, Seinfeld reruns, baths, and politics.
I’m moving through a thick season of grief. If you are too, have some potato chips. Be bold. And be careful. ❤️
This weekend I’m hosting the New York Poetry Festival and my heart’s on fire! ❤️🔥
Here’s my face, the details, and some words that’ve touched me lately.
The festival’s headliner, Sharon Olds, was my high school obsession. I recited her poems at these corny regional speech competitions and also in the shower. It feels full circle to meet her, to hear her recite her own words in person.
The Harvest Moon is afoot! Things are changing color and shape! Come celebrate. 🌹
Today’s my birthday! This year I moved to a new city and rather than race toward my goals, I moved slowly. Hiked. Cursed the hills I biked up, then praised them when I rode down. Asked Skyler if he would drive instead of me, repeatedly. Roasted potatoes with herbs I grow in pots on a shelf outside our sliding door. Shook my fists at the skunks who ate my flowers and stopped asking people at parties what they do.
I drank coffee then whiskey then more coffee and asked Alex if I looked stupid or like the “real me” as he took these. He said “you look just like you.” 🤍
Me and my product, my product and me. All for free!🧴💄♻️
Happy Earth Day! 🌎 If we’ve spoken in the past few years, I’ve probably gone off to you about waste or plastic bags or the wonder that is Buy Nothing, an online community that’s changed my life.
Thank you @refinery29 & the brilliant @saratan for giving this piece a home.
Read about how I became such a zealot. Link in the you know what. 🔗
📸: @janeva.jpeg
