Status: Single
City: LOS ANGELES
State: California
Country: US
Signup Date: 6/11/2006
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Tuesday, September 22, 2009
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Oh yes. I had this beautiful cotton rich-hippie-type shirt that my mother bought in Bloomingdales in the 1970’s. it was light blue and had a daisey pattern perforated into the cotton. By the time I lovingly stole it from her in 1990 it was white. I cut the neckline because it was too high for my taste and wore it that day Sue Kwon shoot me. Sue is an amazing photographer!!!!! I am so flattered to be one of her subjects. She found this east village yard with motorcycles, chickens and the American flag. It was a time in my life when I was never out in the day, in the sunlight, but there I am in the photo in the sun in my false eyelashes, a pair of levis I turned into a floor length skirt and my mother’s shirt. Please go see her work on view at clic gallery in soho, NY, you will not be dissappointed. I hear there is a photo of me on the wall. Of course the show is called ONLY IN NEW YORK!
...ONLY IN NEW YORK compiles twenty years of SUE KWON’s acclaimed documentary photographs of New York’s neighborhoods and people. In the tradition of great urban photographers like Weegee, Helen Levitt, and Danny Lyon, Kwon’s riveting black and white images of New York’s pre-Giuliani street life, with its hustlers, players, dancers and shoe-shiners, are authentic and unsentimental. HILTON ALS of THE NEW YORKER writes, in his introduction to the upcoming monograph "STREET LEVEL": “One can see Kwon’s empathetic involvement, her poetical surgeon’s eye, in the way she frames the streets, fashion, faces, and situations that make up her world. Again and again, she incites the viewer to look at [what] she has faithfully recorded in her personal, anarchic, and radiant photographs.” "ONLY IN NEW YORK" PHOTOGRAPHS BY SUE KWONSEP 7 - OCT 4, 2009
Clic Gallery, 424 Broome Street, New York, NY 10013
info@clicgallery.com
please visit me at my blog
http://hollyramos.blogspot.com/
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Wednesday, September 16, 2009
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Current mood:  pure
Category: Life
On my way to school, 5th grade, I walked alone down the winding hill and came upon a dead rooster just lying there on the empty sidewalk. Rumor had it that the bird was stuffed with pennies, evidence of Santeria, or maybe just a cock fight. Later that day I went with Patricia Dooley to the candy store on Broadway and 207th street to play pinball in the back of the store where a short guy in thick black glasses ran numbers and cursed at us fucking kids for making so much goddamn noise. Just another day in the neighborhood.
I grew up in Inwood, the neighbor hood that Jim Carroll was known to live in. Inwood is the northern tip of Manhattan, real colorful, working class, mixed, just like me. Irish and Latin, just like me. Up here, far from the sophistication of the Manhattan everyone knows, parents talked to their kids with heavy accents and crude expressions, told us to “cut the crap and shut up” between hard drags on Marlborough cigarettes while calling on Jesus Mary and Saint Joseph. In school, nuns slapped the back of our heads and told us to get up on our two fat feet. Most of the time we ran free in those beautiful streets of Upper Manhattan, beyond the upper east and upper west, past Spanish Harlem and Harlem, past Washington Heights and the Cloisters, the last stop on the A train, up where the 2 rivers met. Like where civilization is said to have begun in the fertile region between the Tigres and the Euphrates, Inwood is located at the tip of the island of Manhattan, where the Hudson and the Harlem rivers met.
Spuyten Duyvil is the creek that connects the Harlem and the Hudson rivers, which forms the northern boundary of Manhattan as we now know it. The name means “to spite the devil” but we liked to say “in spite of the devil” because the currents are terrible and people can easily drown there. The 225th street bridge, formally known as the Broadway Bridge, spans the creek, connecting Manhattan to the Bronx. The bridge has a narrow concrete path on the metal grill of it’s floor and you can peer down at the churning water some 50 ft below. Rumor has it that a clean up boat once found a giraffe in the waters, which must have fallen from a boat transporting the circus. I have recurring dreams of longing to go there to look down at the water and hopefully catch a glimpse of the huge black prehistoric fish that I imagined lived there.
Inwood is hilly and green. There are parks, forests, mountains and lots of blue sky. There is a saltwater inlet where swans come and you can find oysters as well. You can also spot owls, herons and eagles The businesses along Broadway are one story high and the apartments are no more than 6. There are no Starbucks or chains in the neighborhood still. It was in this area that Peter Styvesant bought the Island of Manhattan from the Indians for $24 in trinkets.
There is a historic home in Inwood called the Dyckman House. It is a preserved dutch colonial farmhouse built in 1784 that now serves as a museum. The building is an example of what the homes in the area used to look like. It sits there in the working class neighborhood on the corner of 204th street and Broadway, perched on a hilly area above street level. There are barracks behind the house that German troops used to live in during the Revolutionary war. Like on Ellis Island, you can feel the ghosts of a time long gone in the small rooms and garden.
I adore everything about this wonderful neighborhood. Just like any kid from a small town, growing up I couldn’t wait to get out. Now I love to go back and walk the streets I used to walk, see the people who still live there, hike, tour the Dyckman house, visit my old catholic school and stop in the Church of the Good Shepherd. Climb on the rocks I grew up climbing, and see all there is to see, notice what has changed and what has stayed the same.
I was a generation younger than Jim Carroll. He didn’t live there anymore by the time I knew who he was. Then one day I passed him on 207th street, recognized our celebrity from Inwood. He must have been visiting a friend or family. His pale skin and shiny red hair were literally glowing in the bright afternoon sunlight.
I highly recommend you take the train up sometime and get some local latin food and walk in the park, maybe even hike up to where you can see the Westside highway and the Hudson River below. So cool, so beautiful, Inwood, Manhattan, I love you.
Please visit me at my blog http://hollyramos.blogspot...com/
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Saturday, August 08, 2009
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Current mood:  silly
I vaguely knew Tommy growing up but I met him again for the first time at my sister’s high school graduation party at our apartment. The adults stayed in the living room of our one bedroom and the teenagers, all my sister’s friends, high school graduates or older, except for 14 year old me, hung out in the bedroom. The liquor was on the dining room table in the foyer between the two groups and it was free flowing. All dressed up in my cool punk rock clothes, dancing with the teenage girls, playing tapes and records on the stereo, I was having a great time.
.... I had no interest in Tommy until his friend told me that he liked me. I liked the attention. I continued to dance and carry on and feel so adult and alive. Later, Tommy got drunk and got very intimate with an older girl named Tina, under the blankets on my bed. I watched the two covered bodies moving around while everyone else ignored them or laughed about it. I felt jealous and confused why he would be with someone else if he liked me.
.... Tina was amazing. She was Greek and had long black hair that was cut short and spikey on top in a cool david bowie type way. Her shaggy black bangs hung in her dark eyes that were out lined in tons of black lashes and black eye liner and topped with gold and purple shiny eye make up. Tall and thin, she was a great dancer. Tina flirted with everyone and guys loved her. We would take the A train to 8th street to go to the West Village to shop and she’d have the transit cops escorting us out of the subway, charmed by her and trying to get her phone number. She loved the Ramones and of course she had a leather motorcycle jacket. Tina was street tough, she wouldn’t hesitate to kick someone’s ass. She didn’t take any shit and I wanted to be just like her.
.... Tina was with me the night I had my first kiss. A bunch of us had gone in the Chevelle to see a band or drink somewhere and nothing much was going on. I had on black high heel shoes and fishnet stockings with my miniskirt and tons of make up. It was after two a.m. when we wound up over at the Left Bank, a club in New Rochelle. “Jesus died for somebody’s sins but not mine,” Patti Smith was singing as we walked in. The loud record crackled over the PA and sounded larger than life. I have no words to describe the perfection, joy and beauty. I felt so lucky to be in the real world. We were there for a few minutes when a stocky drunk blonde guy cornered me and started talking to me. Tina was drunk too, and her slurred voice in my ear asked if I needed any help losing the guy. I said no.
.... The guy went on to press me against a carpeted wall and kiss me. He tasted like sour kraut from the hotdogs that they sold in the club. He tasted gross and I didn’t like him at all as he stuck his tounge in my mouth and made out with me. I did nothing but receive his kiss in wide eyed wonder and horror as I watched with one eye the jaded platinum haired bartender wipe down the bar.
.... One of my sister’s friends grabbed my arm and pulled me away and that was that. My first kiss was over with. What a relief. The girls in my grammar school had started kissing boys in 7thgrade, maybe even 6th and 5th. Here I was almost starting high school and still I had never kissed anyone. I had been so worried about doing it wrong and being found out. Finally I didn’t have to worry about it anymore. I couldn’t wait to brush my teeth.
.... Back to the graduation party, Tina was the one who brought the Billy Idol “Dancing with Myself” 45. It had just come out. I made a note to buy it next time I was in the village. First we were dancing and laughing and having a great time and then she stole my guy. It was the first time anything like this had ever happened to me. I understood fast that she gave Tommy something I wasn’t prepared to and that pissed me off.
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Thursday, August 06, 2009
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Current mood:80's nyc
The Danceteria PA blasted SLF, “They say they’re a part of you but that’s not true you know …” I was holding my beer bottle while I danced and sang along, oblivious to everything until my girlfriend Marie grabbed my arm and whispered “That’s Glen Danzig.” She L-O-V-E-D Glen Danzig. All I saw was a guy with black hair in his eyes. Me and Marie were teenagers and needed to go home together, so she gave Glen her number. The next night he visited her at her parent’s house in Co-Op City and they had sex in her bedroom. Please visit me at my blog http://hollyramos.blogspot.com/
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Wednesday, August 05, 2009
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....
Shoe connoisseur, not addict. That is what I would call
myself.
In sixth grade, while some of the kids in my class were
wearing size 5, 6 and maybe 7, my feet were still child sized but my mind was
an adults. I made my father take me to 40 shoe stores, trying to find a cool
pair of shoes. There were none. I hated the hideous pair I finally settled on
and in 7th grade I got a pair that was a little too big, but looked
good.
....
Later, All I needed to be happy was a pair of platform
shoes, a set of false eyelashes and something tiny to wear. The shoes had to
have a fine toe and heel, nothing cheap or clunky. They had to look good and be
relatively rare, not something that anyone could buy on Saint Mark’s Place. I
like them rare and beautiful. Hand made Vivienne Westwood’s, One of a kind
original 70’s platforms in red yellow green navy and turquoise suede that
someone found in an alley and brought to my house for me to try on. They fit,
Cinderella. Rare brown suede hand made Peter fox boots, that zipped up the
front and came mid calf. White patent 7 inch wedges from Spain with a patchwork
of colors forming the foot of the shoe. Those were my favorites. I preferred
wedge, but I did have a few pairs with separate heels. I wasn’t into glitter
rock thick-heeled platforms like silly bands wore. (The dolls were the only
ones to do platforms well, ohh those dirty white platform boots that Johnny
wore in the photo outside Hollywood High) I liked height and glamour and style
that was more timeless, more classic.
....
I once ordered a pair of Channel shoes form Honolulu. I had
seen them in a magazine and I called a million stores until I found the only
place carrying them. When the $500 shoes came they looked like the cheap
Fredrick’s of Hollywood prostitute heel that a lot of the drag queens wore. I
sent the shoes back and got a refund with a note on Channel stationary saying
“Sorry the shoes were ill fitting”.
please visit me at my blog for lots more...http://hollyramos.blogspot.com/
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Tuesday, July 21, 2009
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I met Mrs. Rattner right after her husband had passed away through a non-profit I volunteered for, to visit local seniors who needed company or help around the house. I visited a different woman for several years before she passed away and then I was introduced to Mrs. Rattner. This was about 10 years ago.
Mrs. Rattner was 90 years old and lived alone in the west village and had lots of friends and social engagements. Someone was always calling or stopping by and she was always off to the philharmonic or some New York affair. We would have adventures when I took her to physical therapy. She had a dry sense of humor and we would laugh a lot. She used to do impressions of the other elderly women who lived in the building and they were spot on. She went to Cinema Village to see an indie film I was in. She is the only person I never called by her first name out of respect.
Mrs. Rattner wore her long grey hair in a bun like my grandmother would. She was too classy to do the short perm or tease or dye that some of the other woman her age might try. She was long and lean and dressed in blacks like a classic west village woman. One large purple stone adorned her long wrinkled fingers. Her features were strong and noble and attractive. She was the air of a ballerina, had taught French back in the day and filled her apartment with art and music. She summered in Fire Island, still. I thought her a pretty good role model on how to do this thing called life.
One time I entered a “shoe ball” at Jackie 60, a club I frequented. The theme was to dress in “shoe realness” as a fictional character form the arts. I basically needed the money so I dressed as Jodie Foster as Iris in Taxi Driver and wore beautiful suede platforms, big sunglasses and shorts. I needed a hat to finish the look. I was telling Mrs. Rattner about it and she had the perfect hat in her closet. She gave me the hat and I won the competition (and $100). Although she wasn’t familiar with the film, she still got a kick out of it.
One year on my birthday my mother invited me to lunch and canceled at the last minute. I was alone on the snowy street and I called Mrs. Rattner. She suggested we go for chinese food so I picked her up. She was in a wheel chair at this point. The restaurant was playing loud 60’s pop music when we got there and Mrs. Rattner turned to me and, dry as could be, said, “I love Chinese music, don’t you?” Then she called across the room, asking for someone to turn the music down. She was a powerhouse. Of course she picked up the check.
I have seen her now and then over the last six years since I moved to Los Angeles, a few times here and a few times back in NYC. We talk on the phone on occasion.
Well, yesterday Mrs. Rattner turned 100! I sent a card and called. I am blessed to know her and I wish her a great year!
to read more stories not posted here...please visit me at my blog
http://hollyramos.blogspot...com/
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Thursday, July 16, 2009
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on wednesdays i post short stories in 100 words, the other 4 days i just write, sat and sun i rest.
--------------------------..--------------------------..-------------------
Once, I dated a guy who was a pyromaniac. He would break into people’s houses just to steal a piece of furniture so that he could set it on fire. A plush chair was his favorite. He was very good-looking and women would stare at him when we went out. Men would stare too. One day he told me very personal stories about....
--------------------------..--------------------------..--------------------
hey that's not 100 words! please join me at my blog & read the rest, this is just an excerpt, if you enjoy my writing, please subscribe at the blog! thanks, foxy friends, lovers and enemies!
http://hollyramos.blogspot...com/
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Tuesday, July 14, 2009
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......When I was in 6th grade or 7th grade I had some issue with some girls. I have no idea of the circumstances but I remember following these 2 girls into a deserted lunch room, all of us dressed in our blue knee socks and plaid catholic school uniforms, and me yelling at them, “YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH ME, MOTHERFUCKER?” I was about 4 foot six, weighed maybe 70 lbs wet. And they just froze and stared at me like deer in headlights or mountain lions in Yosemite. Who is this crazy girl and what do we do now? Oh god I wish I grew up in the age of technology and someone had filmed it on their phone so you could all get to see it and laugh as hard as I am laughing right now remembering it in my head. I have no idea how the issues resolved but I think we were all friends at some point in the semester.
My one and only real fight was classically at CBGBs in the early 90’s, Dramarama was playing. A woman (who shall remain nameless) was mad at me because, quite frankly, I slept with her man. She followed me down to the bathroom and started yelling at me and I forewent the rules listed above and spoke to her with attitude, but in a quite tone to demonstrate my inner strength. I did not feel like standing there and being yelled at, so I walked away. I figured if I did not participate but rather showed how uninterested I was, she would give up. Wrong. (Note to self: do not try to hurt lion’s feelings by ignoring him.)
A little later I was standing on the sidewalk outside the club and she came charging towards me. She had a good 9 inches on me and was maybe 35 lbs heavier than my 5 foot nothing 96 pound frame. The woman kept yelling at me so I turned my back to, to demonstrate my disrespect. I was uncomfortable and just wanted her to go away but she would not. She was determined to have my attention so she pushed me.
I told her rather emphatically to keep her fucking hands off of me but she went to push me again so I swung to punch her in the face and I found myself in a fight which seemed unattractive, but necessary. My punch didn’t land well so I re-gathered myself and swung again and landed it. The beautiful irony was that I was wearing a chunky gold ring that said L-O-V-E in the style of the famous Robert Indiana sculpture (you know the one, the L and the O on top of the V and the E). The ring drew blood! The fight was broken up very fast by bystanders. She had knocked my black wool hat onto the ground and pulled my hair and I had left her with a bloody face, that was the extent of the damage done....
please visit me at my blog to subscribe or just to finish the story... this is just an excerpt
http://hollyramos.blogspot...com/
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Saturday, July 11, 2009
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Category: Religion and Philosophy
Just about everyone knows
that I am a fool for waterfalls. I have a high sensitivity to negative ions,
the electric charge in the air created by falling water. I used to be addicted
to the ions, dreamed of living in Frank Lloyd Wright’s Falling Water house,
physically ached when it stopped raining, raced over to any fountain I saw and
sat there, all the classic symptoms of an addict.....
It was suggested I go to
Niagara Falls, not for recovery but for indulgence. Everyone feels good around
negative ions and at Niagara Falls you get one of the biggest doses you can
find at one time. That is why it is the honeymoon capitol of the world, because
you just feel great there and that leads to all kinds of freedom and happiness…I
went and sobbed at the beauty and fell in love with the place.....
The Canadian side has a
view at the edge of the tremendous Horseshoe Falls, where you can almost reach
out and touch it. The American side, shockingly less touristy (it is actually a
national park), has this whole other brilliant aspect with a walkway across the
Niagara River. The water rushes beneath you with a supersonic force. Eventually
you find yourself on the tiny (crazy!) island that parts the river before it
becomes the Bridal Falls. You can stand there and watch the river coming at you
full force, parting to go around this little piece of land, and it occurs to
you that it just might breakaway, swept over the edge by the push of the water....
My first visit to the
Falls was in the dead of winter, a great time to go because there are few
tourists because none of the attractions are open. Freezing and treacherous,
the American side was roped off due to icy roads but I foolishly snuck past the
barriers, like a true addict, and had my own private view of the winter falls.
It was terrifying because it was night time and deserted, and the strong winds
and ice-covered walk ways made it seem like you could pretty easily get blown
in. The guardrail is a mild 2-barred structure that you could easily slide
under. I crawled across the icy viewing platform on my hands and knees in order
to get to the edge without falling. So scary but thrilling!!....
After that, all I wanted
to do was jump into that river, I couldn’t explain why. I had no desire to die,
I just wanted to be completely involved somehow. I made up a sceanerio that at
100 years-old I would find out that I had a week to live, the perfect reason to
take my pilgrimage to Niagara and jump in. I would go over the falls to my
happy resting place. It was so fucking tempting. Shocking, powerful and so
inviting, I just wanted to submerge!....
Have you ever seen the
Marilyn Monroe film Niagara? It’s pretty good, but the chase scene where she is
running over wooden planks at the base of the bridal falls is to-die–for!!!
Seeing the movie, I dreamed of going where she went but assumed it was an old
1950’s attraction that revealed itself to be too dangerous and thus was taken
away from the public consumption long ago. I assumed this because I had been
there in the winter when all the attractions were closed. Boy, was I wrong to
assume any such thing.....
My next visit to the Falls, in the summer, I found out that
I too could run along
the wooden planks below the Bridal Veil Falls that ran
along the white water pounding
down from the Niagara river above, wildly
churning in the rocks to my right and to my
left. Not only that, I could
actually go up a few stairs to the Hurricane Deck and stand
beneath the very
same waterfall that I loved, and let it pour on my head, get soaked
by it, and
scream with joy. And so I did just that. And it was so good that I no longer
had the need to go over the falls. I had the opportunity to be IN the falls and
that was
perfect.....
please visit me at my blog to read the full story and more...
http://hollyramos.blogspot.com/
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Friday, July 03, 2009
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Current mood:  romantic
Category: Life
17. Listen to Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers
....
Wow! The Johnny Thunders covers compilation was released
this week and I have a track on it. We recorded the song “I Love You” a while
back and I love our version- Danuta from Fur is on bass and Jesse Malin is on
drums and I sing and play guitar, great line up. You can get a copy of the 3
disc cd at at http://www.skykrebsrecordslimited.com/....
....
Anyway……....
....
It all happened on a freezing Christmas night. I was
14. My sister and her
boyfriend Keith had agreed to take
me to see Johnny Thunders at the Peppermint Lounge on 45th street,
where my grandmother had danced years ago. We left the family dinner at 9 and
drove downtown in the La Mans I wore fishnet stockings, a black mini skirt,
black pointy pumps and my leather motorcycle jacket, lots of eyeliner, very
much the London style. Inside I was dancing to Gary Glitter’s Rock and Roll
Part I. Keith went and got us beers. I sat down on a wooden platform near the
stage to drink and save a spot to see the show. And then I saw him, X (can’t say his name, as it is too good
a name to change and I do try to protect the guilty in these stories)!!!!! It
was like a dream come true. The cute guy that I liked was out at a club with
me!....
....
I knew X because he worked at crazy Eddie’s on 8th
street and Sixth Avenue where, coincidentally, I had bought a Johnny Thunders
and the Heartbreakers record, LAMF. X came up to me and started talking about
the record. He told me his name and I told him mine. He had cool spiky black
hair worn just like Sid Vicious and pale blue eyes and milky white skin. He was
almost transparent, luminous and beautiful. X had a slight eastern European
accent mixed in with his Brooklyn accent, and it was so hot. I had never met
anyone who looked like him. I couldn’t believe he had approached me. I went
home with a huge crush and couldn’t wait to get some money so I could go back
and buy another record and see him again. And here he was at the Thunder’s show.
....
X came over and sat with me and that cemented the deal. We
were an item, for the moment at least. We were talking for a while and soon we
were kissing, which happened effortlessly in a dark corner of a dark club with
a beer, and had been so impossible to achieve in the sunlight on the sidewalk
outside and electronics store, even if it is in the village. X tasted like
cigarettes and alcohol. It got later and later and Johnny hadn’t taken the
stage yet. X moved his hand higher and higher up my leg. ....
....
X had come to the club with a friend, who sat next to us
the whole time. My sister and Keith were also on the platform with us. It
started to sound like the band might be coming on soon so we took a break from
kissing so that X could get us beers. That’s when his friend, whose name I
didn’t know, moved in on me. “Lets go back stage” he said and he grabbed my
hand and we went through the door that led to the dressing rooms. I had never
been backstage before. It was very exciting to see all these mysterious adults
getting ready for a gig. We went past a bathroom where I could see two pairs of
feet facing each other in the same stall. It was two men because the feet were
big, one guy wore high top sneakers, the other had on tight black leather
pants. We snuck around, holding hands, and peeking in rooms. It was hard to
process everything I was seeing because it was so new and amazing and my
adrenaline was soaring. Who are there cool looking people? I didn’t know but I
wanted to hang out with them. X’s friend put his arms around me and started to
kiss me. Given the excitement of the moment, this seemed appropriate and
perfect.....
....
Suddenly we were pushed against the wall as a line of guys
walked by, some of them were holding guitars. Roadies and the band passed by
and then a man not much bigger than my 5 foot-nothing petite frame stumbled by.
Our faces were inches away from each other. It was Johnny Thunders. I had never
been close to someone so cool and it was amazing to see this person, who made
music that I loved, walk by me inches away in the privacy of backstage and then
into the spotlight. I heard the crowd roar as Johnny came on stage and me and
the guy went back to our spot to watch the show. X was mad at me and I wasn’t
sure why. I didn’t think I had done anything so terrible. We drove back home
that freezing night in the La Mans and I held a special feeling in my stomach,
like a pearl in my hand. I was getting closer to my destiny, to the exciting
life that I wanted to live, getting a little freer from my dreary upper
Manhattan miserable small town life.
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please visit me at my blog to read more or subscribe.... http://hollyramos.blogspot.com/
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 | Currently listening:
So Alone
By Johnny Thunders
Release date: 1992-07-14 |
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