This is the post pertaining to the narrative and the expansion of it. Each iteration is different and further pushes the story to a point of resolution.

With this narrative I want to tell a story about (my relationship) I guess and the conceptualization of it. There is a common theme amongst all of my artwork which is my muse: my boyfriend (cliche, I know). It feels more natural to create artwork concerning something that you are so enamored by; someone you talk to everyday, someone you think about as often as you blink your eyes. Over time, Juan and I have definitely become closer and we’re learning each other more and more everyday. The whole thing feels very beautiful and fairytale-like, though some parts of it may not be. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, so I would say the feeling is quite foreign but at the same time, he makes me feel the way I felt when I was extremely young and without stress so it’s familiar in a sense.

1. NARRATIVE PT. 1

One day, I went to his house. Outside it was very cold, but near him I felt warm. We walked into his neighborhood and he said hi to everyone, as he usually does. He said “hola” to the people of hispanic background, also not out of the ordinary. I looked at him a lot and smiled and covered my face because I felt so silly in his presence; so unable to contain myself, so innocent, so fresh and free and happy. He was silent the whole time we walked and my thoughts were overlapping each other. I always had trouble wrapping my mind around the being that was him; the way he moved and spoke and was. All of him was amazing.

He had this swagger about him. He gave off this vibe; this aura that he did not care what you said about him. You could tell that he had been through some hardships and that those very hardships shaped his soul. He spoke about these few times.

Everything in his room had changed since the last time I was there. The walls and bed spread and newly bought couch were all blue. It was still that of some sort of urban monk though, with books scattered across the window sill and dresser. Along with those books were remnants of marijuana, hats and notebooks full of lyrics and poems and stories, perhaps even diary entries. We had on blue too. Me with a blue fuzzy sweater which he said reminded him of cookie monster and him with a dark blue tee shirt.

We minimally spoke. He mentioned the fact that he had to design a couple of websites for his program and that he was way behind. I knew he would finish them that night, though. He could do anything.

There was a fire inside of him. It burned and burned and you could hear it when he talked about things he felt passionately about, like quantum physics or spirit science or the universe or the stars and moon or music. “Music is the shit,” he would say while working on a webpage. Then he’d turn up the volume and rap along with the lyrics as though he lived the same life as J Cole himself.

He was a mystery. Sometimes he would take me and hold me or shift my body around his so we fit together like a puzzle or clay. He listened to my heart and tapped his fingers on my skin. It felt as if we were one.

One time he told me he loved me, but I think I always knew. He would try to describe me and end up having the same look on his face that he had while he talked about music. He told me I was beautiful all the time and made sure I felt the same way. I never wanted to leave.

2. (NARRATIVE REVISITED)

It was freezing. We had decided that we would meet at the hotel him and his friends were staying at, near the World Trade Center; a mentor of mine was also visiting the city at the time. I had on a black shearling coat that was cropped, and ended just where the waist of my blue jeans began. My hair was out in a large afro, the moisture in it turned to ice as I tromped through the snow-ridden streets.

I stood in the lobby of the hotel, looking around for a tall skinny boy with dreads tinted by an iridescent purple color. Suddenly, the elevator doors opened and he started out of them. For a second I lost my breathe, then caught it again and remembered that I’m not supposed to like him. He came towards me, I smiled, we embraced then went back into the elevator and up to the room they were staying in.

It was a mess; but I expected no less from a group of young boys staying in the city for the weekend. There were clothes everywhere, a small makeshift studio on the desk to the far right corner, and the strong looming scent of marijuana. The other boys left and him and I remained.

First, he put on Rick & Morty. We sat for a while and I took it all in, realizing that it was one of his favorite shows and laughing along with it to him. I couldn’t help but fall in love with him during that short time; he was beautiful. His mind, his entire being, everything about him seemed to be pulling me closer and closer until finally I couldn’t take it anymore and I leaned in for a kiss. And I swear that kiss was the sweetest one I had encountered since my first one, and I swear it wasn’t on my account that it happened because he grabbed my arm and drew me in just as I was about to fall into it. And after we joked and laughed and left the hotel room, deciding that we would go get some pizza and travel all the way to Jersey to meet with my best friend Randell and play video games.

It was even colder than it had been before I entered the hotel and the sky became a wide abyss. I had forgotten about meeting with my mentor, forgotten about any homework that was due, any prior engagements; anything. I had forgotten it all and the only thing I thought of was him. And he was next to me, and we moved through the city as one attempting to keep ourselves warm against the winter wind smacking us in the face as we moved. The trip to Jersey felt like a trek across a tundra, and we continued to cling to each other for warmth. Though it were the first time we had ever hangout with each other, it felt like I knew him for ages…