3 min read

who is Britney Klump

i’m telling you a tale of a time and i embellish the memory


she had the coolest vibe. when compared to some other woman who was selling who knows what, some kind of secret creepy product on the internet, Britney was plain and open about how weird her interests were. she liked making artsy non-fungible tokens, walking laps around las vegas athletic club, and owned a bamboo farm for investment purposes.

when i got off a plane from new york to visit the city in time for a tech event held at a wework i was ready for the same public of would-be investors, would-be entrepreneurs and poseurs that i had no affinity with, i was there with the future of my startup on my mind.

after the second pitch i leaned back against the wall, Angel was off chatting or doing a backflip, and the woman next to me seemed to be keeping to herself the way so many women do at tech events. i made the assumption in that moment that she was into software and out of her element. i was wrong on both counts, she was into people and anywhere they gathered she was in her element.

by the end of the event Angel and I were chatting with a creepy woman and Britney, the four of us parted ways and the two of us got the contact information from the two of them; the next morning i woke up and knew exactly who to follow up with from the last night. Britney received my message.

thanks for weirding with me last night

the first sign that indicated her genius to me is that in our not-out-of-bed-yet text exchange she started writing in german. she mentioned she was learning it, i began writing it back.

coffee bean and tea leaf

we found a place for a follow up. she arrived in a white coat, long as her body, and sat in the armchair next to mine for an hour or so. she was working on a retreat center called the hrrc. she bought a plot of land in the arizona desert, had designs on a place for her followers to express themselves, rejuvenate, and escape reality into her heavenly oasis.

i was in las vegas to do pushups. hard pushups. impossible pushups.

she showed me a video she recently shot in the desert. she was on a yoga mat, she was in all white, she was performing an asana of her own making. in my heart i was moved by the visual, though i could do nothing to express it while sat there in a coffee bean and leaf. far from the usual yoga attire of sports bra and eye-catching tights, she wore a loose flowing outfit that caught her skin in the desert breeze, in a color that was in no way fit into the normal palette of yogis in dime-a-dozen studios across the world, the pose itself was unabashedly made up in stark contrast to the demonstrations that all-too-often feature the subject doing a pose, even when done well, that has been done so many times to the point of becoming cliché.

i do not think i was being shown this video because i was the only person around, i felt it was displayed because a woman with wisdom beyond beauty saw the world with eyes like mine. mine are on the constant lookout for the weirdness, the strangers to make friends, the friends to make stranger.

whole foods

those eyes were looking back at mine. i was reciting a poem called as above, so below. i wrote it after she she shared the concept with me. up until that point, i had no concept of true reciprocity in poetry. i had written poems before and the women would either receive them with sympathy and write back or receive them with flattered reactions and thank me, neither of which were the reciprocation that meant anything to me at all.

Britney watched me perform.

unblinking, unblinking, unblinking. it’s all i can remember about the entire time we sat at that whole foods, she was focussed like i could not ever be.

there was Britney as i was reciting a poem from memory. she happens to be disarmingly hot by any measure of temperature, especially in spirit.

i stopped reciting the poem before finishing. her eyes put the brakes on me.