Fred’s 90th

Yesterday, my family and I took a 3 hour drive from New Hampshire to Connecticut for my great uncle’s 90th birthday. The whole clan was there, from blood relatives to step family. It was amazing how many people made the journey to Connecticut for this milestone! The activities included volleyball, soccer, and fireworks after dusk! The family is filled with artists from Fred’s brother Jack who passed decades ago to Ki and Sei, Fred’s two of Fred’s grandsons, who for your information own a nightclub/gallery in New York. My mother’s cousins Hobie and Chuck hosted the party and it was fantastic! Here are some photographs I took from the party!


Playing Volleyball


My mother snapping some photos for herself


Chuck and his son


My mother and Fred


Ki playing soccer


Sei and Fred enjoying a conversation


Performance time!


The photo that caught the most of the family dynamic


Fred and his stepdaughter blowing out candles


Cousins hanging out






Depression Does Not Mean Broke || And A Note About the Book

A note before I start the poem – if you would like to see one of my poems posted here in the book I’m planning to publish, comment on this post stating which one(s)

When  I was first diagnosed

I was told I was not broken

Yet here I am 2 years later

Stating over and over again

I’m broken

There is a light too far away

The dim keeps getting dimmer

The darkness that returns at night makes me realize

Maybe there isn’t a light at the end of the tunnel

There was a point where I was in love

Except he seemed to love vodka

More than he ever loved me

I was afraid I would step through the door of our apartment

To find him hanging

Or passed out on blood stained carpet

Or with a call on the answering machine

He jumped in front of the 4:15 subway to Alewife

The thing is there is no was – there is an am

See I am mad for this boy

He makes me forget how dim everything is

But every day I feel him slip

Despite promises if a crappy apartment in Maine’s art capital

But who knows, there is always a someday

A someday where we’re sleeping on our matress on the floor

Because we are too poor for a bedframe

Maybe I’m not broken after all


Name – Ainslie Eliza

After her grandmother Ainslie Smith Quick

And yes that is spelled the right way

Nickname(s): Ains, Bumslee, Umslee, Frodo, Winslow

A happy child who grew to become a part of a dark epidemic

That of drugs, self harm, alcohol, mental illness, and cigarettes

A rare type of artist

One of a kind

A poet trying to make it in a sea overflowing

On a roller coaster called life

Once crashed now forever going up

Until further notice

Ainslie Eliza

Born July 21, 1997

An artist fighting to be free

Free from life’s shackles

An Ode to An Ex || Video of Reading Included

Video of me reading the poem here


My anger is not cute
Let me kill him
With words that taste like poison
Words that hit his chest like daggers
Puncturing his lungs
Making his heart sink to his knees

Do not tell me my anger is invalid
Yes I have a new boyfriend
No that does not mean all my feelings have left
He took away the only think I had left to my name
Happy fled on his noble steed
Sad couldn’t bear residing in my mind anymore so she drowned herself
Empty is all I was left with

I can be angry all I want
You can’t forget the times we fucked to Radiohead in the dark
With your sister in the next room and your parents downstairs
Just to quiet the sadness
With her friend adrenaline

My love for you was an atomic bomb
It began with falling
Then the explosion
A mushroom cloud erupted
Filled with love, lust, sadness, and hatred
A never ending sadness as if we were both lost at sea
Hatred not only for ourselves but the world around us

The aftermath was a barren wasteland
I was empty most days
Other days I was filled with sorrow
I was sorry I let you take so much of my time
I was sorry I left
I was sorry when she replaced me
I am sorry