i’m a legal alien

You see me walking down Fifth Avenue A walking cane here at my side I take it everywhere I walk I’m an Englishman in New York I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien I’m an Englishman in New York I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien I’m an Englishman in New York If, “Manners maketh man” as someone said He’s that hero of the day It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile Be yourself no matter what they say I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien I’m an Englishman in New York I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien I’m an Englishman in New York Modesty, propriety can lead to notoriety You could end up as the only one Gentleness, sobriety, rare in this society At night a candle’s brighter than the sun Takes more than combat gear to make a man Takes more than a license for a gun Confront your enemies, avoid them when you can A gentleman will walk but never run… Sting…englishman in new york…


There comes a time when every seasoned party girl hangs up her party pants. At some point, life stops being about cigarettes and champagne at an impromptu party thrown by some artist she just met at an East Village bar in his trendy Bowery loft at 4AM on a Wednesday morning, and starts being about early Vinyasa followed by juice and bagels. At some point, she stops buying drugs and starts spending her money on home improvements. When instead of Googling the hottest new place to eat, most of her searches relate either to how long food can be kept in the freezer or how to really make houseplants thrive. When she trades in spontaneity for regularity. This time, for most, will inevitably come around – and it isn’t as depressing as it sounds. In fact, it can be wonderful. But the feelings involved with this transition are mixed and many.

It’s the time when she decides that sleeping until 2PM and subsisting on coffee and nicotine isn’t cute anymore. I can’t tell you exactly when or how it happens, but for me, it began with an apathy towards smoky eye make up that started creeping in very slowly. I was suddenly just very uninspired to spend time on that. And so I started to go to partying without eye make- up. Ah, the slow and bitter unravelling of the party girl!

The nail in my party girl coffin came after a string of crazy weekends, when one morning I found myself on a rooftop watching the sun rise over Manhattan and talking to people I’d never met before, and who I knew I would never see again. And when I say talking I mean listening to their shit silently, while a voice screamed in my head “THIS IS SUCH A WASTE OF TIME”. Two years have gone by, and with nary a party to add to my resume, I’ve been feeling a lot of feels, probably ones that only ex party girls will truly understand….. read the rest of this bustle.com re-post after the jump…

the following vid was posted on google plus by the mad man wolfgang mueller. it has stirred echoes within me.  i hope it does at least that for you..

#youtube #music #emotionalsobriety #chopwoodcarrywater #stage2recovery #buddhism

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