January 13, 2014 § Leave a comment
I am thrilled to announce the release of my book Could You Be Loved, A Memoir of Scars and Guitars. Go to Amazon.com to purchase a copy for your Kindle. For other ebook formats (iBookstore, nook, Sony eReader) check out Smashwords.
Can I get a sneak peak?
March 4, 2013 § Leave a comment
So honored to be included in this 12 Questions Interview series. So much fun!
Where were you when the world ended and a cosmic portal was supposedly opened, December 21, 2012? New Yorker, Margarita Manwelyan was outside, meditating, in Times Square, of course.
From her work with the Occupy Wall Street Meditation group, to her Dharma Punk blog quest with the Interdependence Project, Margarita is on a relaxed, high-smiling quest to bring yoga to the people and consciousness to revolution.
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November 8, 2010 § 2 Comments
I’m walking with Hershey up 5th avenue after turning away from Marcus Garvey park. Hershey is my dog. She is a chocolate lab mix who looks (and acts) like a pit bull, especially during our pm walks.
There are two older guys, maybe in their 50s or 60s talking and a big pile of garbage next to them. I survey the situation and decide that me and Hershey can squeeze by between the garbage and the conversing gentlemen.
As we walk toward them the guy who is facing my direction grins suddenly and says “Lovely lady.”
For some reason I think he’s talking about my dog. I give him a cheerful smile.
“Gorgeous!” he exclaims “Beautiful.”
Guess he wasn’t talking about Hershey after all.
“Only one thing I hate about beautiful women like her,” he says to his friend as I’m walking past them. “S’when they have a dog like that one walking next to em.”
Next we walk past an asian dude and a white dude hanging out outside one of the new nice-lookin buildings. They don’t look up or say anything.
I see a fat guy in front of the deli talking to some other guy. As I walk closer he walks toward me and yells, “Miss, are you married?”
He shout-mumbles something like “have some of this tuna” and tries to hand me something.
Hershey barks twice at him in warning. She’s such a good dog.
I jerk the leash a bit to let Hershey know we are picking up the pace to get past this obstacle.
The guy doesn’t react to the dog bark in any way but keeps advancing.
He lunges toward me screaming with his hand outstretched, “Come on! Have some of this spliff!”
Now I realize it was not a tuna sandwich but a blunt that he’s trying to hand me. His hand is inches from my face and I duck to the right as I move past him.
“No, thanks,” I throw back over my shoulder.
“Come on, girl!” the guy is yelling behind me. “This here is some good shit. Come on, Miss!”
Hershey and I keep on walking.