Matthew Rutledge » memories http://mattrut.com It's my website, but you can read it! Thu, 22 Jul 2010 01:36:25 +0000 en hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.0 Home (away from home) http://mattrut.com/2009/10/08/home-away-from-home/ http://mattrut.com/2009/10/08/home-away-from-home/#comments Thu, 08 Oct 2009 07:49:06 +0000 Matthew Rutledge http://mattrut.com/?p=1342 All that Google Mapping last night made me quite nostalgic. And a bit depressed.

This is where I was mugged, in Bed-Stuy, in Brooklyn. The tan townhouse, in the little front stoop area.


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This is where the handlebars fell of my bicycle, I hit a car head on, and flipped into the road, and where some kind woman pulled me onto the curb and saved my life.


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I lived in the yellow and red apartment building on the right for 2 years.


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This was where my office was, on the 20th floor.


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I used to walk this road home every day, whether at 6AM or 4AM. With my friends, with my boyfriends, with one night stands, alone, with my iPod, even caught up in a conversation with a stranger I had met on the subway 5 minutes prior.


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This is the place I stayed for 3 weeks with my great friend Ellen, where we slept on the hardwood floor in sleeping bags and they had the ugliest couch in the world delivered.


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You have no idea how much I miss it all. I haven’t been the same since I left.

]]> http://mattrut.com/2009/10/08/home-away-from-home/feed/ 0 Die Matt-rosen http://mattrut.com/2009/09/08/die-matt-rosen/ http://mattrut.com/2009/09/08/die-matt-rosen/#comments Wed, 09 Sep 2009 03:45:27 +0000 Matthew Rutledge http://mattrut.com/?p=1116 God I just love this song.  It reminds me of exactly two things — my old roommate/friend Elizabeth Skadden and the trip I took in November 2006 to Bogota, Colombia.  Both remembrances put me back to a time in my life when I was truly happy.  Those endless summer nights at Barton Springs, or watching Gilmore Girls in the living room, I wouldn’t trade them for anything.  Nor would I trade the feeling of being a true American jetsetter for anything, going with Tim to a far-off land just because we could, for anything. To think how much money was in my bank account back in those days turns my face sallow; makes me depressed, even more depressed. To think I was one of the first mainstream American tourists to really “do” Colombia in decades makes me feel kind of smug.

But it also makes me want to be back there again, at the point in my life where I actually lived for what came next, because I knew it was likely to be great.

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