Buddhism, Parenting and Body Acceptance

Guest Post by Glendaliz Camacho

21 Divisiones and Buddhism have helped me be a slightly better mom, have a better relationship with my body, cope with grief and date men who look like this disgruntled baby (which I swear, is actually a good thing, but is another story for another day).

A Random Moment With Johnny B. Azari

Johnny B. Azari, singer/songwriter and rambling man | Photo by Zach Gold

I met Johnny B. Azari at the restaurant Les Enfants Terribles (no more), then a week later I accepted his invitation to attend a performance of his blues duo (no more). Last year, I found out he wasn't in New York City anymore. But my love and intrigue for Johnny B. hasn't waned. He's currently touring the US -- The Tropic of Entropy tour -- leaving his mark and being marked. Track his music, movies and live performance dates on his website. Keep up with this ramblin' man on Instagram. He's making his way back east and when he gets to New York, I'll be sure to catch up with him for an update.


Before he embarked on his tour, I had a few questions for him...

Dear Mr. Anthony Bourdain

Of all the sidewalks in all the world he showed up on mine.


It was a bright, Thursday afternoon and I was heading back towards Columbus Circle from CBS Broadcast Center. As I passed my old stomping ground, the Time Warner Center, I looked up from my phone and there he stood.


He was there. Nerves bubbled up inside me but I didn't stop walking, I didn't alter the course. I knew I had to say something. Never mind that I was carrying two man grooming products in my hand. He moved his cell phone from his ear just as I got to him.

Mon Amie With The Expensive Bags Et Non D'argent

Photo by Abigail Ekue Photography

Using a lot of the vocabulary I learned during my last French-English exchange, I forced myself to write in the past tense and to write questions  -- both things I haven't grasped yet. I originally intended this French lesson assignment to be a "see dog run" paragraph. It quickly devolved into a story. I'm a writer. I can't help myself. I have a flair for the dramatic at times.

My Progress With The French Language

photograph de mon livre

As some of you know, I've been learning French. When I have time, I do lessons on Rosetta Stone and I meet with a language buddy -- she's learning English and I'm learning French. I've done a worse job lately of making time for my lessons and I've had to learn to take à pas de bébé.


Last week, I wrote a paragraph in French. Using some of the vocabulary I'd recently learned, I embarked on the challenge:

Slut Shaming, Miscommunication And Amazing Sex

Back in the Saddle

I saw George again. A week had passed since we'd last been together when I received a text from him during rush hour which read, "You must be in need of a massage later".


I will never decline his invites (as long as I'm free) due to his track record of sexing me down and his actual massages. We settled on the when and the what I should bring with me:  massage oil -- and condoms.

I'm working with a good stash so that wasn't an issue. The issue came moments later.

Note From A Nice Native New Yorker

Americans still think New Yorkers are mean, rude and arrogant. Yet they flock to this city in the MILLIONS. Henry Stewart of Brooklyn Magazine expressed his annoyance in the article "Why Do Americans Think New Yorkers Are So Mean?":

The last two times I went to Manhattan, no fewer than four pedestrians and straphangers asked me for directions. I guess I've just got one of those faces, the one that gets me elected foreman when I'm on jury duty, but I can't stand on a street corner without fielding queries as to which direction whatever avenue is or sit on the subway without explaining how to get to Canal Street if the R train's not going to the city from Brooklyn. And what do I get for my patience and trouble? A bunch of survey takers telling me I'm a jerk.

Ditto.

New York Dollar Pizza

Native Creative Concierge™ approved.

99 Cent Fresh Pizza on 6th Avenue in New York

Recently I've been asked more than once what I think is the best pizza in NY. This past weekend a woman on my Boozy Treats Tour asked as we walked by Lombardi's on Spring St. A man visiting NY with his son from LA inquired a week or so before which pizza was great.


I've done Fornino. I've done Di Fara but must say, I'm a fan of dollar pizza. One reason I gave the woman on my tour was dollar pizza "reminds me of pizza we used to get back in the day." Sometimes I forget that dollar pizza is available again. In this day and age of the $8 or more lunch, there are times when I'm "broke" and wonder what to grab to eat. Then I remember, "Oh snap! I could get dollar pizza!"  Day made.


Here are the three dollar pizza spots that I frequent very often.

The Oxy Made Me Lock Him Down

Back in the Saddle

The "him" I locked down is in fact my Boy Toy. The entry  --"The Oxy Made Me Lock Him Down" -- from my Back in the Saddle series has been published in Senshēǝnt Magazine!

Senshēǝnt Magazine is for the 'sexually empowered woman' and allows access to a wealth of experience and information. Check out the magazine here! 

Join us on Facebook to share your personal experiences and expansion! 

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The Brief Wondrous Life of My FWB

Back in the Saddle

Our view from the water

Before George, before my Boy Toy, there was Fuddy.


To be really honest, our hookup was more for him than for me. I'd already vowed I was done providing the warm, healing embrace of my vagina to men who were going through shit, had issues, not up to par etc. Once you state something, it is so. I was also off the heels of the man I said I'd never do and had no intention on settling for sex of a lesser quality.


It turns out with Fuddy, once was enough. We can look back on it as the way we commemorated his 3-year anniversary of coming to NY and we have a hysterical memory to boot.

Doin' It In The Park

Back in the Saddle

Looking for the tale of how Boy Toy and I got acquainted in the park? 

That entry -- "Doin' It In The Park" -- from my Back in the Saddle series has been published in Senshēǝnt Magazine!

Senshēǝnt Magazine is for the 'sexually empowered woman' and allows access to a wealth of experience and information. Check out the premier issue here! 

Join us on Facebook to share your personal experiences and expansion! 

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The Man I Said I'd Never Do

Back in the Saddle

To the one who started (or ended) it all

Source

We met during the FIFA Confederations Cup. Unfortunately, I wasn't in Brazil for the tournament. I watched the host country battle Uruguay on the big screen, broadcast in Portuguese, while I ate linguiça frita mandioca. A few days later, I watched Spain and Italy go to a 7-round penalty shootout, ginger beer in hand. On the day of the Brazil v Spain Championship game, I met a Mexican.


Juan Manuel Francisco Javier* didn't look "indigenous" (his words, not mine) and he was at least 5'10". Immediately after he told me he was an Afro-Cuban drummer (he broke down batá to me) and a saxophone player his hands and lips stood out even more; his hands screamed power, his lips fuller.

On Letting Him Come Over To My Place

Back in the Saddle

Chivas and condoms: After

It was like fucking Manuel Ferrara. Not that I've fucked Manuel Ferrara but I've watched enough of his movies and have been left exhausted by own French Manu in the past to get a pretty good idea what it'd be like.


While I was on top of my Italiano-Portoghese boy toy he held onto my breasts like handlebars. And the eye contact was the most intense I've had in a long time. I was afraid to blink! When he felt my body close around him he pulled me down on top of him and I was on the receiving end of those forceful upward thrusts I'm a sucker for. MS MR sang Bones while we boned.

Lay Your Hands On Me

Back in the Saddle

Source

Yes, this encounter includes a massage, just like my story of the same name, but this one ends differently. It begins differently too.


On a Sunday night, I, minding my business, checked my phone and saw 3 new text messages from George*.They'd been sent almost 2 hours prior. I was in another room yucking it up with friends and hadn't heard my phone ring.


I turned down George's invite to go over to his place. It was late and I had settled in to do some writing for the night. He revealed he was alone and figured he'd ask anyway. No harm, no foul. I teased him that he was gonna guilt me into saying yes but I really had to do my writing. If things were different on my end I would've just invited him over.


Text from George: No problem. just come here :)


I told him I wouldn't get much writing done at his place. For one of the few times in my life I didn't mean that with any adult or sexual undertone. I figured it would be like the first night George and I met and I went over to his place -- we'd sit and talk, he'd play his instruments, we'd sip on orange juice, he'd light up, we'd discuss art and the artist's life...


That's not what he had in mind this time.

He Only Plays with Pussies

Back in the Saddle

The first pussy he played with that day

It all started with his question: Want to meet? I was down. It'd been about a year since we'd last seen each other.


Wait, here's a little backstory:  I read an article about Bushwick and they mentioned his cafe. I sent him the text: Bonjour! Ca va? It's been a long time! I told him about the article I'd read, asked how he was, he asked if I wanted to meet, fast forward to:


I wasn't up for meeting him that Sunday night. He text me:  It will be hard to wait until tomorrow... I wanted to kiss you everywhere, to lick you everywhere...


Well, that's one thing he didn't lie about. I said I could meet him halfway, that I wasn't going to Bushwick etc. especially if it's late. He suggested brunch on Monday because that's his day off. I was game thinking it'd be at a restaurant. He text: We can have brunch at my place, I'm a cook, remember... Yes, i will pay for your cabs.. (I told him I wasn't taking the train out there). He asked me if I "prefer a shaved face or not". I told him I like facial hair to which he responded: So, I don't shave...

The Sandwich Bar - Take Two

The Sandwich Bar is Native Creative Concierge™ approved.

I made a second visit to The Sandwich Bar in Astoria recently. When the manager first told me about the restaurant that presents a "new concept in sandwiches", I was intrigued to say the least. When I expressed my love of meats he said I'd be a fool not to try The Sandwich Bar.

So I did.

Braised Brisket Grilled Cheese, Spicy Mayo, Yellow Cheddar and Provolone

Timing is Everything

Back in the Saddle

"Imagine if that had happened five minutes earlier," he said to me. My eyes widened as I considered the possibility.


5 minutes earlier, I was on all fours. He was on his knees behind me making a ruckus. I hushed him and told him to stop slapping my ass because the sound was reverberating off the bridge nearby and would attract attention. He bent over, resting his torso on my back and whispered his raunchy comments and commands in to my ear.


We sat in the field with the majority of our clothes back in place. My fuck buddy or Fuddy, sat to my left. We made small talk enjoying the breeze against our skin that remained exposed. I showed him something on my phone and happened to look to my right and could make out a figure in the dark approaching at a high rate of speed. Not a five or six foot human form -- but a small furry figure only a few inches tall -- hurtling towards me in the grass. My mind barely processed what was happening. I exhaled and screamed while scrambling over my belongings and Fuddy. All the while I was bracing myself for the brush of fur or a bite.

La Marina - Bar, Lounge, Beach

The view of the George Washington Bridge from La Marina in NYC

New York City has 538 miles of coastline. La Marina is an option to soak some of it in... drink in hand.


La Marina is an outdoor bar, restaurant and lounge on the Hudson River. Cross street: Dyckman. I was there recently for drinks to celebrate a near and dear friend's birthday. I was in my usual "observer mode" and would describe La Marina as a beach lounge exuding the energy of the Meatpacking District with a tropical vibe. No cobblestones made for a safer stride for the women in stilettos. Many of them pulled up in cars and handed over the keys for valet parking. I took the A train to Dyckman-200th Street and hoofed it over.

NYC: Boozy Treats Tour 2013

Boozy Treats Tour presented by Native Creative Concierge

Since June, I've been running the Boozy Treats Tour. I take groups of 5 or less through the East Village and the Lower East Side (LES) making stops at local businesses for treats. The connection? They're all made with alcohol!


Things simply made sense for this kind of walking food tour. The East Village and LES both have a history "full of alcohol" -- they're littered with speakeasies and Prohibition-era happenings, organized crime and New York flavor. I launched the Boozy Treats Tour through an offer with Time Out NY. There are still tours available for bookings through September 2013. So far, I've had a mix of New Yorkers and visitors, grad students to chefs alike. It's been fun for me learning new tidbits about the area to share with the Boozy Treats "Tourists" and sharing my personal connection to many places we pass along the way (St. Mark's Hotel, Babeland, Verlaine, Clinton St. Baking Co, inoteca etc).

He Made Me Do It

Back in the Saddle

I had an intensely charged encounter with a gorgeous man. We got as far as fingers and mouths. Lucky to even get that far, we continuously reminded ourselves not to get our hopes up. It quickly became our inside joke. We were parting ways when he told me he wanted me to email him what would happen the next time we saw one another. I protested that he was giving me homework and I didn't like it. He told me to include pics to help get my story across. I chuckled to myself because he had no clue what I could do with only words. What if I don't write it I asked. He didn't have a definitive response.

"No punishment?" I asked.