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@chenakovax
(Chena Kovax) Orignial tunes... a nice vibe instrumental for your ride...
Friend-Zone/Awkward City
So we all have that one person, that great-guy or girl, who is hopelessly devoted to us and would treat us like royalty, but that we can’t help but put into the friend-zone. I have one of those of course, we’ll call him…Dave.
Dave is a good looking guy, in fact, I had a huge crush on him in the seventh-grade. I sighed when he walked past me in the hallway, whispered, “gorgeous..” under my breath, like a dweeb. We were in band together, yes I was in band and proud of it. I played the french horn (thee coolest, obvs) and he played trumpet so we we’re both brass players and well, that just meant we were perf for each other. Super-crush, big-time. But as I outgrew my awkward looks and my skinny legs took shape, I also outgrew my juvenile infatuation as he grew into his ears. From then on we were always good friends.
Now there was a time, many years later, in our college years, when he was totally hooking up with my friend… and randomly one night tried to kiss me. But it was so awkward and horrific we both just pretended it never happened. And I never step foot into his car again, for years that is…
Now, for those of you who don’t really know me that well, I am from outside of New York City, a cool girl from Long Island’s south shore. But I was born in Brooklyn and my parents and aunties and uncles, etc all are too. Being back here after years of living in the Mid-Atlantic and Mid-West for a few years is like a highschool reunion, literally. And so of course Dave and I reconnected when I came back to my hometown.
We’ve both matured a lot. The last we saw eachother we were really still wet behind the ears and while we are by no means old and wise just quite yet, we are older and wiser and more experienced. He wasted no time expressing his interest in getting to know me “better.” And I, in all my candor, let him know that while he is handsome, intelligent, has a good, respectable career, and would pave the road in gold and rose petals for me… I’m just not interested in him that way. It was kind of frustrating for me honestly because well damn it! Why is this my life? How many of you know exactly what I mean?
The ones who dispose of you, and dismiss you… all about it. Wtf?! Here is someone great, and I’m like, “Meh… thanks, but no thanks. Let’s just be friends."
Well Dave apparently had a really hard time with this and persisted. So, out of boredom, selfishness and quite honeslty being on the rebound from my last failed relationship… I said, "Screw it, let me just give him a shot. Let’s see what happens.” Finally, I agree to let him take me out on a date.
He picks me up at around 8pm in his sleek, dark sedan. Bob Marley grooves in the background as we say hello and I give him the cutsomary kiss on the cheek. This is New York… we kiss each other. Making small chat in the car, he awkwardly touches my hand and I nervously giggle and find something to fidget with. We drive to a steak house and sit down at a large and dark, shiney wooden table. He looks at me from across the table, smiles and tells me, “Order whatever you want babe.”
Now, I told you, part of the reason why I even accepted his invitation was out of selfishness. And I took him up on his offer. We ordered a pitcher of top-shelf margaritas, and we both ordered filet mignon… but I added a lobster tail, because I’m a bitch sometimes. And well, I wanted a damn lobster tail! Dave and I laughed and joked and he had no problem with anything. Except, the cute, buff waitor that kept flirting with me and ignoring Dave. He was obviously upset and uncomfortable with the cute waitor’s kindness and attentiveness towards me. I just played along and took on the role of bashful, innocent, wide-eyed dame, plying devil’s advocated and secretly totally enjoying the moment.
After dinner, Dave and I decide to go bar hopping and meet up with friends. RED FLAG: Dude, if we need to go find our friends in order to finish the night, there is nothing here. I knew this and I saw this right away. But, hey, its a night out on him and I was just going with the flow. Until that is at the end of the night he invited me to spend the night with him at a very nice hotel not too far from us.
Okay guys, so here is the point that we all dread and I had to make a decision. My mind raced with pros and cons. On one hand I really just don’t feel any chemistry with this guy, on the other hand he is a sweetie, and I’ve known him forever. Maybe hes just socially awkward in public and behind closed doors will turn into this super confident Rico Suave latin lover.. (I mean… he is Puerto Rican). I mean after all, he is a hard working blue-collar guy who is just looking for someone to spend his money on. And, I’m telling you, if I wanted to, I could run this guy, have him wait on me hand and foot. But I’m not a total man-eater, I still have a heart after all…. but fuck it! Let’s go. As far as I see it, its a free night in a big fluffy bed with tons of pillows, room service and travel-sized salon products.
So we go to the hotel and let the awkwardness begin.
DISCLAIMER: This is the 2nd edition of this blog post. Since, its original publication, I have grown up enough to know its not advisable to go to a hotel room with a man that I do not want to or intend to be intimate with. Ladies, if you aren’t sure you want to do something, you don’t have to put yourself in the position to have to. In recovery, with maturity and healing I’ve learned to stop putting myself in risky situations that may compromise my integrity, and emotional or physical safety. But, well, I was in my hoe phase so. Back to the fuckery:
It was late when we arrived so I had every intention of turning in so I turned on the TV and flicked through the channels while he strangely walked around the room until finally sitting down next to me on the bed. I don’t really remember exactly know how he made the first move but he eventually kissed me. And after an uncomforatble roll in the covers tried to take it from PG to R. And I hate to admit it but he succeeded. However we never made it to X. I was shall we say… not… umm whats the best way to put this… he couldn’t get my engine going. … And I, really wasnt interested in pulling his trigger… it just wasnt gonna happen. So I stopped him and was like “Okay, let’s just watch a movie.. yea?"
I swear to you, I put my clothes back on and switched to Happy Feet 2. We fell asleep and in the morning the disappointment was painfully apparent on this face. I treated him to breakfast in the morning because I felt bad in a way. And a little whoreish to boot… He told me that he wanted us to try again and I looked at him in his eyes and told him as flatly as I could that, "Dave, if it was gonna happen, it would have. I’m no prude, there’s just nothing here. We are just friends, and I wish you would just allow me to be that… your friend.” He pathetically sighed and nodded his head in agreement.
After breakfast he dropped me off at home, I said good-bye and immediately washed the shameful akwwardness off my body. The good thing is I have a great sense of humor and after some time, Dave and I were able to attempt a friendship once again.
That is until he tried… again. Lol, I swear I can’t make this stuff up if I tried.
Poor Dave…
2018 REBOOT
The 1st track I ever made. Not too shabby. Produced by Kristin Renee Cincinnati, Ohio
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Amityville Horror, 2014
I sit in the car, packed with things from my mother’s house. The mirrored mosaic silver lamp glimmers in the back seat from the light in the driveway. My Polish neighbors keep coming to the windows and peering out at me as I pace back and forth from my sedan to the door, trying to turn the lock. Finally I accept defeat, Raqui is at work and of course I have no idea where that is and since she’s waiting tables her phone is in a drawer somewhere. So the thing about being me is the way my life is set up, as soon as I drive away and get half way to walking back into my mother’s house with my tail between my legs, that Blanca would call me like, “Hey girl, I just got out of work! Where you at?” So I sit in my car wiping my tears away dialing my girlfriends Keiko and Sarah who both aren’t able to answer because one is watching American Horror Story and well Kiks already knows with me, and the other is probably putting her daughter to sleep or something that actually matters.
As I stare up into the light that shines through my spotted windshield, bitterness and self-pity dripping down my face, I grasp that God is all I really have in this little existence of mine. Take a breath and pull down the mirror above me, look into my mascara smeared face and finally come to terms with the fact that I really am quite naturally an absolutely out-of-this-world, ridiculously dramatic person. I laugh and the salty goodness of my so completely unnecessary outpouring of built up anger, frustration and regret. I’m turning thirty in less than thirty days and I must say I went out of my twenties with a bang! See me, if I were on Sex & The City, I’d be a mix between Carrie and Samantha; a quirky, entrepreneurial, hopeless romantic/try-sexual.[1] I mean I am literally at this moment sitting at the bar of the diner where my roommate works, typing on my mac while sipping a hot lemon tea with swollen eyes and a congested nose. Like seriously, as one of my drag gurus[2], Latrice Royale, would say, “Good God Girl, Get a Grip” #5Gs
So yea, ridiculous is an acceptable word. Apparently my puffy eyes make me look even more stoned than I actually am, which now come to think of it probably didn’t help the melt-down. It seems, I have one of these “quarter-life crisis” episodes periodically since I was in my late 20s. Torn, between the glory of living in the now, haunted by the misgivings of my past, while facing a daunting and seemingly impossible future that excites and challenges me, but also scares the living shit out of me; the undeniable and trite reality of my ticking fucking clock that seems to be getting louder and louder every year.
Fuck my life dude. Am I the only one going through this? I can’t be me. Or maybe I’m just crazy. Is that it? I have accomplished so much in the last ten years it is breathtaking. I have absolutely no reason to feel this overwhelming sense that I somehow missed the boat. I won’t say that there aren’t choices that I question. You know those pivotal fork-in-the road moments, that are like totally existential and the thing about life is some of them we were able to grab by the horns and charge with force down, and others… well, not so much.
I will not bring this baggage with me into my thirties.
I am checking my shit at the door.
Ain’t tryna break my back. Ms. Badu told me this shit ten years ago! But it wasn’t until womanhood that I truly could even begin to understand how to let it go, let it go, let it go, let it go.
This tea is delicious by the way. And I encourage my brothers and sisters who can identify and appreciate my maniacal ravings, to always look for the light at the end.
[1] As coined by Samantha Jones from the aforementioned HBO hit series, a “try-sexual” is someone who’ll try anything, once. For me, its almost anything. Okay, almost. I do have boundaries and while they are few and far between they are also quite firm.
[2] Yes, I love footnotes. Deal. Or don’t whatever. Lol. Drag Gurus = Everythang. Okay, hunty? Starting with the incomparable Miss Thang herself The One and Only Ru Paul. All hail.
Good God Girl, Get a Grip. You got this shhhh!
written by Chena Kovax
produced by Chena Kovax, MH the Verb & DRK BXT
Old Dog, Same Dick
Le sigh. What a disappointment, I mean really. But duh girl, like hello? Same dog, old dick. A tiger don’t change his stripes, you know. But I can change. But have you? I mean, I have it! I’t been slow and steady and maybe my actions don’t yet match my awareness but I’m doing the work. Yas Queen. Progress not perfection. But damn.
But, like were you even really into it? Because honestly, it didn't seem that way. You were really only kinda half there. You’re kinda always only kinda half there; half here; half everything and nothing at the same fucking time.
I wish life was simpler. I wish it was easy to love and be loved. I wish it wasn't so much work. When you meet the right one it won’t be. Blah blah, fuck off.
No, I wasn't really that into it. But I liked it: the attention, the affection and adoration, the affirmation, validation, all my favorite drugs. And you go out, you numb your senses a little (or a lot, working on it #odat) and just like that your indifference becomes dependence right before your eyes.
I found God in myself and I loved her. I loved her fiercely.
Ntozake Shange
Confessions of a Fuccgirl
Hi, my name is Chena and I am a recovering fuccgirl. Yes, yes I know and I am not proud but after coming of age in the generation and times that created and coined the fuckboy, survival really trumped all else. And you see I wasn't raised to be one of those docile, sweet and coy girls who played hard to get. I was raised by warrior women who rained fire into every inch of my being and taught me to go after what I want and take no shit.
Having survived enough Dennis situationships, I navigated my teens and 20s playing and getting played. Case in point: this fucking tumblr account. Oy vey! I just scrolled through and read some of my late 20-something fuccgirl shit and Im like good God girl get a grip.
But listen, this is no place for guilt and shame and we are not here to beat ourselves up okay. Many of us - the season fuccladies of the game who understand and respect the limits of this here science, are also wonderfully smart and successful, talented and beautiful women. I’m not talking gutter-but here hunty - I am talking prime cuts all the way around.
And even though they (the Dennis+) all looked different, they were all very much the same: tall, ambiguously aloof, but easy on the eyes: beefy, uber-machos with a discreetly sensitive and intellectual, artistic side who as simultaneously a fucking savage who laid pipe like it was his job... because, well, it was.
I was hooked, pretty much immediately. People ask me - why are you single? Because that, that right there, is my type. The rollercoaster ride of our crazies combining - fire and ice - when gaslighted by their, sometimes extreme, emotional unavailability life became a labyrinth of pain I pleasured in (de)coding. And conveniently and subconsciously, kept me able to avoid real intimacy but gave me just enough of it to keep me going... It’s all quite psychotic really.
Who was I to them? I was/am the unicorn. At least thats what I tell myself. No but really. Many of my lovers tales have a certain narrative thread: the love was real. There is something about, I have way of making people feel comfortable. I own my flaws and because I am open and communicative, it puts people at ease, allowing them to open up and communicate. This, coupled with my copious and complex understanding of love and our humanity, I am very accepting and understanding of others and their choices. Like I said - this is a no-judgment zone. I, through diligence touched with a heavy dose of masochism, was always able to unlock the labyrinth and these previously guarded manchildren would eventually open up to me, either confessing their love, revealing their mommy issues and fear of absolutely everything. It was beautiful and human, and we had some amazing honest and authentic moments together.Of course there were your one (or two) nighters, fantasy boyfriends and wanna be play boys; but there were a few in there where the spark was real, and magical and beautifully innocent. A childlike fascination and gravitational pull that I am grateful to have experienced.
I truly believe we can all have many soulmates in our lives, its how willing we are to be open to letting others in. I have always been receptive and intrigued by the world and all the people in it. My work is in turning-in more, learning how to be more reserved, more laid-back, less anxious. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone, but I have been give this amazing, wild and unpredictably serendipitous life; how can I not write about it?
Confessions of a Fuccgirl is a continuing exploration, as a maturing and (getting) grounded single New York City woman in her early 30s, of my what we colloquially refer to as: my hoe phase #hoeislife.
... and those of my friends.
What’s to come are tall tales of love and passion, a tragic comedy of epic proportions, the tom-foolery and straight fuckery one couldn't make up, and the life lessons learned along the way. Because at the end of the day we aren't here to take ourselves too seriously but rather to learn and grow and live. And don't be scurred if you’re concerned you might pop up. No one reads my blog anyway.
MH the Verb x ArtHouse95 - "Last Dance In Paris" ft. Hayley Cass & GR Stone https://soundcloud.com/mhtheverb/last-dance-in-paris-feat-hayley-cass-gr-stone?in...
Wacky fun filming this with my Philly friends - being free dancing and finding joy in the midst of so much pain and terror experienced by so many across the world
https://soundcloud.com/chenakovax/call-it-off
I AM.
I am all things:
Pain
Healing
Love
Anger
Sadness and
Joy;
Gay
Straight
Feminine
Masculine
White
Black
Brown
Yellow
Original
A Woman
Who is nonetheless,
Still a girl.
I am intrinsically Paradoxical:
Humble
But proud
Quiet
But loud
Soft but
Still tough
Secure
But unsure
Independent
But still in need.
And Yet,
I am nothing:
A void
An abyss
In which sits
The crown
Of all divine matter
Of the entire universe
In one tiny little speck.
irresistible
could you be love? but it ain’t the same thing. won’t even trust myself ‘cus i can’t let you go. still want your taste, remember your embrace. such a disgrace. crave your embrace and chit chats on pillow cases.
such a waste of such a sweet thing. know how it ends before it begins.
feel it coming on. its a feeling that’s so strong and i can’t let it go because you’re irresistible. silly infatuation. what a sticky little situation. there’s no love and that’s a fact. somehow you’re keeping me coming back.
completely consumed by you. wanna live in your mouth. dream in your arms, dance in your palm. stay on my knees and please every whim. would that make you stay? don’t disappear. inhale your breath. swallow your tears. bathe in your sweat. i need you here.
---
threw time away. your pride always gets in the way. such a shame.
deaf, dumb, and blind. love/lust rewind. same cycle every time. stay on my mind. like a moth to a flame, seared in your brain, i’m your irresistible infatuation. let’s play again...
Journaling: A Retrospective
January 8th, 2013
It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, indeed. My windows are operand I can feel the cold, crisp tingle of the breeze as it circulates my room, filling the space with its breath. My white cotton drapes hang and sway; undulating like lungs filled with smoke.
Don't be sorry, be fierce.
RuPaul
Diane von Furstenberg says 30 is “the best age.”
Colourful Encounte by Arthur Cadre
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Old Journal Entries: A Retrospective
Monday, January 17th, 2013 -
“I’m feeling quite torn these days. Big surprise, I know. I guess I am always torn about something. So the real question is, what is it that tears me apart today? Well... where do I begin? Let’s see... all in good time.”