Last night I played a DJ set at Sarah Lawrence. I was really stressed out about because I'm not, really, a DJ. The handful of times I was the DJ at parties there (when I was a student), the reactions ranged from angry to violently angry. My philosophy as a DJ is like "Have you heard this awesome song?" And usually the kids have not. And usually the kids don't particularly want to hear any new music, even if it really is the best remix of a Kylie Minogue b-side from two years ago. Ok. So I played a lot of Outkast and a lot of Missy and the kids dug it. La JohnJoseph came for crucial moral support. It went well. Now I'm a DJ, please hire me.
Speaking of DJs, here is one of my favorite (and criminally unreleased) Lady Kier songs performed live "Me... And My Records, Baby":
This gives me hope about nightlife and playing records and Lady Kier. Showbiz, generally.
I really want to start a band, I've decided. I want to maybe play an instrument or something. Ideally I want to be a lead singer and pop star, but this is no small feat. I generally don't like to collaborate with people on music, because the conversation usually goes like this:
Friend: Hey! I've heard your music! I like it! Let's make music together!
Me: Okay, great!
Friend: Okay, so I want you to make me a beat that sounds like (insert adjectives and band names here)! And I'll sing over it! Awesome, thanks!
Me: (Shoots self in face)
The point is: I'm kind of a diva. I need to be in something where I feel engaged, and writing melodies for other people to sing over isn't so engaging. Maybe I could change this, but I am not (shall we say) good at lending focus. I need to find a new way.
I have a little cough and I'm worried about getting sick. This is a big weekend. I'm going to a lot of things. I'm getting increasingly scared about what I'm going to do for work in the coming weeks, but I can only accomplish so much right now.
Mercury going into fucking retrograde: looking over my shoulder, going through my phone book, coughing up thick black goo. Same old stuff, under a new microscope. I think I'm going to title my new piece: THE HORRIBLE TIME (YOU TRIED TO KILL ME). It's sort of going to be about elements of a Mercury Retrograde, about rethinking personal narratives. I really only ever have the concept of writing in a specific tense, or the sense of a setting. Then, I get some sentences or phrases, images. Then I kind of put it all together to try to make a narrative. It's sort of weird. Before moving to NYC I thought of performance art as coming from the conceptual art world, the punk art world. You know, wild, non-linear, non-entertaining stuff. Mean performances. Audiences complicit in something complicated, difficult. That the viewer has a responsibility to the narrative and to the "action" of the "piece" because of their presence. Now in NYC all these performance art folks come from more of a theater tradition and it blows my mind. I never, ever, ever think about that kind of thing. And as a result, whenever I measure my work by those conventional standards, I come up empty and stupid. I really enjoy this kind of work, but I keep forgetting that I don't really make it. Like OH YEAH I'M NOT A PLAYWRIGHT. Not really.
I think I wanna be in a band. But I also think I'm a dancer, in the sense that I use my body to show you things when I get on stage. A big of using my body, though, is language, i guess. Trying to put a language into my body. Or to describe things. I'm thinking of using visual projections to help tell a story. PowerPoint is ubiquitous and silly, but I think it could bode well.
I feel anxious. So many things are falling in and out of place. I feel like a receptionist to my own life. Like "Oh hello. Libido? Yes, hi. Can you hold for just a second? My self esteem has JUST left for the day No, you can't call him at home. If you'd like, I can connect you with the self-destruction department? Oh! I'm sorry, they're busy with drugs. Please hold."
Anyways. Weekend. Here I come.