December 30, 2013.
20 years ago I was running around lower Manhattan with my boyfriend and skater/artist/ musician friends in between classes at Eugene Lang and a job at 99X and some neighborhood coffee shop. I never wore pants. Instead opting for a skirt with opaque stockings topped with ruffled tennis bloomers I would pick up from Paragon Sporting Goods. Doc Marten boots or Vans half cabs on my feet- worn with leg warmers in the chillier months. We smoked American Spirit cigarettes, played pool at Glocca Morra, showed up at Wetlands, Knitting Factory, CBGB or Nightingales to support the friends and friends of friends whose bands played for a $5 cover. There was Funkface, Mephiskapheles, the Toasters and Orange 9mm. We’d head up to the Ritz or the Academy to take in Fugazi, De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest, or Fishbone. We would sleep outside Irving Plaza to score general admission tickets to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Tower Records on West 4th for the first Lalapalooza show upstate.
20 years ago we held impromptu snowball fights in Union Square Park. We’d skate the Brooklyn Banks, the Time Magazine Building, the parking garages of the World Trade Center. We’d eat blintzes at Odessa, perogi at Veselka, and hummus at Dojo. Our Gramercy Park and Greenwich Village apartments sported 2 or 3 bedrooms and cost under a thousand dollars a month. We were free to debate literature and fine art over late night games of Rummy 500 and learned the art of pursuing a crush while drinking 40’s under the Verrazano Bridge. We thought nothing of starting and publishing our own magazine, if they could do it at Interview and Paper, so could we. And we did- for a magical year or so.
20 years ago every breath I took was full of excitement and joy and eager playfullness. Rilke, Poe, Nabakov, Shakespeare, Ftizgerald, and O’Hara seemed to walk the city streets, whispering in my ear and filling my head with infinite poetry and possibility.
It is startling to know I miss my old self. The girl who smoked cigarettes, recited poetry and danced in the corner. The girl who didn’t care what time it was or what she had to do in a few hours. She got it done anyway, with or without sleep, and always with a smile on her face. Life was meant to be lived. And it was exciting to be a part of it.
This space will be a place to find that girl again. Albeit, that girl with 2 children, a husband and a business attached to her. A girl now 20 years older. After a year of heartbreak, break up, reconciliation, sadness, madness, happiness and sheer confusion, it is time to return to the basic idea that life is meant to be lived.
After we folded Forehead we had planned on creating a second magazine called LIST. It would stand for Live, Survive & Thrive as that was how we passed our days. We may have been broke and surviving on whatever tips we made at the cafe, but we thrived in everything we did or attempted. Opportunity was just next door waiting for us to introduce ourselves. And that is a beauty I want to be a part of again.