Friday night I went to Paps' house with Chantal, Lauren, Sister Pico, and Machete. We watched, at Sister Pico's behest, a really fucked up, scary, politically problematic and entirely confusing 1983 horror movie called Sleepaway Camp. It pretty much ruined me, and I was the least brave of any of us. I covered my eyes during the death scenes, wish I had covered my ears too. Gurgling blood noises are no fun, but we ordered pizza. Drank a bottle of white wine. Watched part of the debates. While I was depressed about our political future, the economy in crisis, and the ongoing culture wars we all find ourselves on the losing side of, it was a good night. I was struck by how proud I was to be friends with the people I was with. Everyone is a feminist, writes, studies psychology or does direct action homeless outreach. Teaches at NYU or writes award-winning fiction or has a fucking Master's at 24 or organizes insane literary journals. Very inspiring.
Saturday I woke up early to meet with Richert and Miriam at Richert's new apartment in Bed-Stuy. It was totally empty, giving us lots of space. We sort of warmed-up, got into our groove, and shot the new Graphic Glory video. Richert planned it, structurally, in a really cool way, and I think it looked amazing. He kept urging us to dance harder, faster, more violently. Miriam was really awesome to watch, and I think we got some wonderful footage. Really nice to have vigorous exercsie first thing in the morning. Spent a few hours hurling myself at the floor. Made a quick change then went on a date. had lunch and walked downtown from the park.
It occurs to me that I don't want to talk about my weekend anymore.
I'm really worried about the state of the world and money. Sorry-- I'm worried, only, about my own financial security. I have nothing, really, to worry about. In the sense of, economic crisis doesn't really affect me as much, since I have no real money to speak of. I do have, however, around $40,000 in student debt and very little hope of ever having a life that will allow me to pay it back. I wonder, sometimes, if I am making the wrong decisions. Sometimes I meet other people my age who have corporate jobs, or work in "media buying" (shoot me, in between the eyes, please). And these folks seem to be making enough money. They can live in swanky neighborhoods and shop at whole foods. I think to myself: I'd like a piece of that. A retirement account? That sounds pretty cool. Being able to take a cab home when you're drunk? Instead of waiting for the train in the middle of the night? AWESOME. New jeans that no one has worn before? So cool. Super cool. Great.
But then again, I kind of like having an "art" "career" or whatever. I like not having to act like I care about that kind of commerce and shit. Suck up to bosses. Whatever.