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Read a ten minute prose I wrote at an open mic of my own curation, and that I hosted through my org (black girl fight club) on Wednesday night, in Chinatownā¦ to like 50-60ish people.
It was in amidst a quite wonderful art exhibit I co-curated with a friend (if I do say so myself).
It was awesome.
probably got 15 rounds of laughter during my piece. & a lot of praise. surreal. partly because itās always surreal to produce an event, partly because when you read fast and real and long you black out, and during public speaking; especially off of an all nighter and a tad of hypomania. Itās the second time Iāve read at an open mic. again for lack of a better word: awesome.
Then thursday night, last nightā I did another reading. Bikini themed- on a roof in bedstuy (with notably no black people this time. Which for some reason I noted in my preamble). I knew no one there. except my best friend, who came with me. Another long ass prose. Cause thatās who I am. I went last. People laughed a lot and then listened to the serious parts then laughed again. One of favorite compliments is being told Iām funny. I used to never be able to really receive a compliment, Iād put a very fake voice on and give a very fake thank you. This year Iām truly proud of myself for the first time ever. It feels good to digest things you deserve genuinely; my mom doesnāt do it; I grew up not doing it; why not? I should. Iām growing up perhaps.
Several people came up to me after and gave me kind genuine ass comments and praise. I chatted a lot with very nice individuals. they asked where they could read my writing they got my number and asked to send or followed me to see when is release, I donāt have anything released. And I felt on top of the world on that rooftop, and very real. Not hypomanic any longer, at least for all of yesterday.
This summer has been consistently abundant and divine. Iāve felt abundantly full and swallowing gratitude. not for just whatās coming next or graduating or my accomplishments but for the love of my friends and traveling and the love of loves sake and sweet treats and the sun. I like to laugh loud.
I want to go all the way with this writing stuff nowadays. Well Iām a renaissance woman and want to be a giant rose garden that is every color and grows everywear and then an 100 year old pine tree. And then a single rose that wilts on a first loveās or final loveās dresser and never forgotten.
And be funny and real raw and relatable. A storyteller and all the things. And real artists writers and real listeners and peers of blackness and whiteness east coast and otherwise transplants and otherwise from my Alma mater and otherwise my friends my mutuals and complete strangers alike are looking and listening intently and think my words are worthwhile.
Iām a professional yapper, I know, hence the long ass pieces. And the nights spent talking to my friends for hours on end. But a professional writer? I never thought I could go all the way- regardless of formatā¦ only when a few professors and teachers of my past really told me from their hearts at times, a few timesā¦ but peers feels so enlightening a lot more a lot of the time. They have a distinguished pulse, the respectable ones.
So I guess itās time to launch (or relaunch) the Substack and do more open mics and less close friends stories. And to just let it be how it should.
You should hop on the mic if you feel like the timing is divine too And the spirit compels you.
I ate carvel and a Cinnabon (it was combined in one establishment) leaving the reading last night). carvel is my favorite soft serve and they barely have any in New York. And I love Cinnabon so dearly. My best friend never had carvel she said itās āactually pretty goodā but itās my favorite. I had vanilla with rainbow sprinkles. When I got to her house, I ate the Cinnabon after microwaving it. I was supposed to save it for tomorrow. But why save something deliciously sweet and divine and blessed for the next day when you can chew it and swallow it when you want it right now in the presence of someone you love and wants the best for you. who you held hands with in the car all the way home. I massaged myself with this special healing cream I have, then massaged her feet and calves. My friend on the other side of the country called me and she is coming here next week we are going to heal ourselves, body spirit and mind together. be little girls and big girls and be artists and date each other abd cuddle up - just like our 3-headed deer tattoo we all got together on my friendās birthday. in the grand scheme of things we havenāt even known each other long, one of them less than a year. Who cares. Love isnāt about that. love is about being a deer, prey and pretty and sweet, hunted and prancing in the forest and front lawns, survivors and spotted, fairy tales Bambi movies childrenās books filled with gunshots overpopulated ā & on 3 heads, one body, resting on the shoulders of three girls who found home in each other and fell in love And will share that til their skin rots and they become poems and memoirs, rose gardens and star dust.
Aug 2, 2024
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Literally in my backyard (and I think I possibly have a grass allergy that was undiscovered until now because where I grew up there just wasnāt a lot of grass) but also metaphorically.
I moved to a cozy home in a beautiful walkable neighborhood and Iāve been enjoying strolling around and meeting so many neighborhood woodland crittersāI just learned where Mr. Groundhog lives (at the base of a big tree in the woods behind my house)! On Saturday I found a dead squirrel in my backyard that seemed to have been killed by a bird of prey :( he was also my friend he was uniquely chunky and I loved watching him scurry around. My favorite mother deer has been hopping the fence and jumping into my yard to take naps and munch at the grass, vines, and hostas and Iām honored to have her as an esteemed guest.
Iām meticulously and slowly planning what color and fabric of curtains I want to buy for every room which is such a process. Iāve never had so many windows before and curtains are one of my absolute favorite interior design elements so Iām overwhelmed but overjoyed. itās also VERY nice to finally have my own dedicated office space to work in again. Having a basement is WEIRD but not as creepy as I expected.
Iāve been regularly frequenting my neighborhood artisan bakery and tiny old indie movie theater and buying peaches by the crateful at the farmerās market. Iām trying to cut back on sugar and have once again grown bored with alcohol so Iām rawdogging life despite recent legalization in my state because SWIM is now prone to extreme greenout panic attacks š Iām doing a lot of somatic yoga which I greatly enjoyā¦ and I take SO many hot baths.
Iāve also been doing some controversial new tactics with my hair which Iāll post about soon and Iām due for another salon appointmentā¦ or overdue you could say but I always like to wait to see how the tones fade and blend with my roots almost more than I like the fresh colorā¦ the chiaroscuro of it all! my fiery red hair has faded to a caramel tortoiseshell and Iām kind of obsessed so I want to play off of that next time and get a Jane Birkin inspired cut. Iām ready for bangs again!!!
I switched Benny and Bunny from their previous frozen raw foods to Steveās Real FoodāI love the ingredients they use and their complete transparency about the farms they source them from! Benny and Bunnyās coats look so much healthier + I think they like eating it more š¤ my relationship with Benny has dramatically improved and I donāt know if itās that he just loves living in a more spacious house with a backyard or if itās because heās grown up, but likely a combination of both.
Iāve recorded two episodes of my new podcast Gilded with nunjournal my dear friend of 15+ years and once our third episode is complete weāre going to release them all at once then transition to a biweekly schedule!
And last week I was unanimously elected to serve as the vice chair of an internal consultancy group Iām in at work which is the pet project of executive leadership for strategic future growth of the company so thatās kind of a slayā¦ Iām leading my first subcommittee meeting on Wednesday Iām nervous but tickled pink. thatās about it thanks for reading this characteristically overly long post! :~)
Aug 12, 2024
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(Subrec: retiring the term autofiction)!
Writing about one of the most significant periods of transformation in my life has reminded me of my experiences in EMDR therapy: returning to the moments that shaped meāthe sublime, the horrific, and everything in betweenānot just to relive them, but to recontextualize them. Through this process, I revisit the past, weaving empathy and perspective into old wounds, transforming them into narratives that help me heal rather than haunt me.
Writing this chapter wasnāt easy; even after all the personal work Iāve done, I still hadnāt fully unpacked much of what I explored here. But in the same way EMDR therapy creates new mental pathways, confessional writing allows me to create new emotional pathways. What once felt overwhelming now feels like part of a larger, layered storyāa story I get to write on my own terms, with dark humor, empathy, and grace.
This chapter is about the seeds of identity, love, and longing being planted in the soil of a viscerally chaotic and often violent childhood, and the thorned rose that breaks forth out of this poisoned soil, delicate and sharp, a reflection of resilience built in tandem with pain.
Not even my closest friends fully understood the depth of my experiences until I opened up to them recently. Sharing this chapter feels like baring my soul in a way thatās both terrifying and liberating, but after being silent for so long, I believe in the power of raw, confessional storytellingānot just to connect with others, but to heal.
Part 1 introduces the narratorās restless haze living in her desert hometown one year after high school graduation, working at a twee Wes Anderson-themed restaurant and drifting without direction. A chance encounter with an old acquaintance draws her back into his social circle, sparking a journey into memory. Part 2 delves into the complex history behind this connection, revealing the tangled ties that bind her and the unresolved emotions that shape her path forward.
Iām so excited to share Part 2, āSeeds Planted,ā with you. Itās layered and deeply personalāanother piece of my journey that Iām honored to offer to you. Iām looking forward to hearing how it speaks to you, or how youāve found your own ways of recontextualizing the past.
Jan 12, 2025
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Start a blog. Or a newsletter. Or a love letter.
I have always been a little shy when it comes to sharing my writing and I decided this year keeping essays and entries in digital files wasnāt enough anymore. So I started Briella in Bites! You can read HERE if you want! Or donāt! No hard feelings! :D
Feb 8, 2024
Top Recs from @gabz
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women who run with wolves, women who run with rats.
the true ultimate bonding activity for you and the girls. because youāll never forget how they sheltered you when you were low.
one of the most liberating rituals I perform in New York is popping a squat in between parked cars or a dark corner and letting it all goā¦. wild wild women we are deemed to be.
they may look down upon us because perhaps it isnāt āpoliteā. But when youāre bursting at the seams, why must we settle for discomfort? Whatās a girl to do? We are not graced with simplicity to turn to the wallā subtly concealed without judgement. Our anatomy binds us to the confines of bearing it all in a squat. With added complexity given the outfit of choice. And always the obstacle of not splattering our cute shoes. but id only be telling you a falsehood if I said peeing outdoors isnāt so enjoyable whether it be in the middle of a forest or the city street. Even when all odds may be stacked against you.
Only God can judge me. But God is a woman anyway.
Feb 13, 2024
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Itās okay. itās not for validation, itās for performance art. Linda Montano said living life itself is her lifelong performance because she declared that it was. Trisha Paytas has carried on that performance practice. So Iām hot on instagram when the spirit compels me to be. But in like a durationally artistic way and for my future lifelong archive, to show my granddaughters that I was also young and fertile once and my boobs were decently sized and semi perky. They should know. That I was that girl once before I was grey and a bit wrinkled and more bitter than I am currently; for traditional reasons.
Mar 14, 2024
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Iām post-grad, unemployed, no direction, sick with a stomach flu or something, went on 3 back to back trips so like I spent a lot of money, clearly have lots of time to write and recommend and ponder and not be ridden with confusion and anxiety these days.
So yes, of course here I am. Back at last to Perfectly Imperfect. Youāve caught me red-handed. Crawling back as Iām glued to my couch currently on a nocturnal sleep schedule due to perhaps a combination of my illness and my body remaining in a time zone opposite to the one I must adjust back to.
Hope someone out there missed me. The bitch is back.
Jul 28, 2024