I Love Haikal Noyes

Maybe everyone didn't have this experience, but my generation came of age right as the internet became really accessible. So the idea of having an internet boyfriend or something was possible. My Close Personal Friend and frequent collaborator Dan Fishback speaks a lot about the idea of the internet boyfriend in his work. It's been years since I had an online crush on anyone, since real life (or, what passes for "real") keeps me more than occupied.

That all being said, I came across the blog of Haikal Noyes recently, and I think that I am in love.

He is doing a blog project to take one photo of himself every day. These are probably not safe for work, depending on what your job is. I don't even know if Haikal is his real name or not but it doesn't matter. He is very cute and smart and sexy. If you know me at all, you know that I am obsessed with leaving America and going to Berlin, where Haikal lives. I don't know almost anything about him except that he is obviously the cutest boy ever, and is one year younger than me (he's 23, I'm 24 and a half). He's a HUGE Kate Bush fan, and you know what that means. Boys that are into Kate Bush are either junkies or super kinky (But never both-- junkies can't get erections, everyone knows this). Y'know who else is a big Kate Bush fan and is NOT a junkie (and this means that I am calling him super kinky)? LAZARUS. And though he acts like a "sweet boy", we all know that Laz is a particular casanova. I think that Haikal probably is too.

He's also a big fan of the TV show Friends which for some reason is a really big turn-on for me. He could be a fan of any TV show, though, and I would be writing it down here and calling it a turn-on. But seriously, I would love to watch friends and cuddle with Haikal and talk about photography while he explains German public transportation to me. Jeez.

Also, I don't know if he speaks a ton of English. His blog is written in it but it's mostly Kate Bush lyrics. Elsewhere on the internet he writes only in German. That sounds great to me, I want to learn German because I want to go live over there. Here's a cute video of him reading a poem in German and I have no idea what it means but it doesn't matter because we all speak the language of love, yes?

Turning Four-Leaf Clover

What can you say about Kim Gordon? She is an unwilling icon. Right? Seems like she doesn't really care about a certain patina of glamor / glitz. But then again, when asked about the high point of her year, it involved performing in a Rodarte dress. So there's, like, some stuff going on, but she doesn't even need to elaborate. She's so cool. She makes being taciturn and not giving it all up seem so cool.

On the other hand I am much more aesthetically aligned with Kathleen Hanna in this (and every) video. This thing is so smart. It's like banking on our reading of the two women whispering to each other, then commenting on the fact that we're projecting super hard onto that image. Kim Gordon is such a genius, she's totally aware of what's happening all the time. She controls the fantasy, I think. And, you know, Kathleen Hanna got all this shit for being in this video, apparently, but she doesn't care. And I don't care-- I think it's great that she's in this video, I think it's a perfect match. If my life were this video I would be Kathleen and I would also be Kim.

I can't wait for tonight. And I have NO CLUE what I'm even doing yet.


Judy // Mouse

I live with a really cool French girl named Judith. She moved in about a month ago, and is only staying until April. She speaks some English (but not all of English-- she asks for words sometimes), and cooks a lot. She has a lot of cute French friends, and wears really cute clothes. She is from Paris, where she studied fashion design. When we were interviewing room mates, my housemate Patrick the Witch and I were completely charmed by our new French friend. What her real calling is, however, is jewelry design. If you're in New York this weekend, you should come check some of it out at the Young Designers Market this Saturday from 11-7. I really want one of Judith's necklaces (like the one pictured just to the left there), but I'm not entirely sure that a boy can pull off the look. I'm ambitious, though. And for some reason I seem to think that necklaces (pendants, really) make me look thin, refined, rich, feminine, dangerous, and chic. Like La JohnJoseph. I don't know if it really works like that but I want that necklace, dammit. But seriously, go check her stuff out. It's all gorgeous and handmade and pretty cheap and you can brag to all of your friends about it in a year when she gets super famous.

Been thinking lately how glad I am that the mouse in our kitchen has been making himself scarce. I hadn't seen it in almost a week. Last night I thought to myself "Wow, it's so cool how it seemed like we had mice, but then that problem just totally resolved itself without any intervention on my part."

Last night when I came home from work, Judith told me that at night, in the walls, she thought she heard a mouse. She made a little gesture with her hand to indicate the English word for "scratching". This bums me out! I wish we didn't have mice. Or, a mouse. I reassured her that a) it was a mouse, not a rat (which I feel comfortable saying-- I've only seen mice in the kitchen, never rats, thank god) and b) that even with scratching the mouse would not claw it's way through the brick wall (tho I have no way of assuring this). She also told me that late at night, she thought she could hear mouse squeaks. I am not so sure, our downstairs neighbors have a lot of loud birds, I want that to be what Judith was hearing. If I'm completely honest with myself, though, I will admit that I, too, have sometimes (once) late at night SWORN that I heard the tell tale high-pitched call of hungry mice, scurrying through the walls.

I went to the kitchen to start cooking dinner and saw a tiny gray mouse dart away from the kitchen sink and jump into the stove top, into one of the burners. Oddly enough, the pilot light on the stovetop range has been continuously blowing out lately, but only on that side. It makes me think that the mouse is darting in and out of the oven and exinguishing the pilot light, making it slightly more difficult for me to make coffee and oatmeal in the morning, I have to constantly re-light it. We almost never use the actual oven itself, and I think we ought to start, if only to inadvertantly kill / cook the mouse. That is how I would like to deal with the problem: to unwittingly end up killing the mouse without thinking about it. I can't bear myself to set traps, because how can I set a trap in an oven? Ditto for poison. I sort of wish I could borrow a cat.

Last night I had dreams of the walls vibrating, shaking with the amplified sounds of thousands of mice, screeching to break free and jump into bed with me. I woke up lying on my stomach with me left palm pressed against the wall, listening to my downstairs neighbor's parrots squaking at dawn.


Anyways. I had my performance of "Lover, Ferocious" last night at Dixon Place. Thank you to everyone who came. I feel so, so relieved that it's over. And it was only, like 17 minutes! Very stressful. I worry a lot about people "getting" it, but it's okay if they don't. I just feel glad, and really supported by my friends and community. I couldn't have asked for a better audience. I feel so lucky to be able to share the work, or anything from me, with these people.

Joseph Keckler, my co-star in my fabulous next project, YOU WILL EXPERIENCE SILENCE, bought me a drink after the show. Tommy and I chit chatted in the back room of the bar, and I was in bed by midnight. A very good night.


Friday night I hung out with Jmzz, Kira, Jeneefuh and Cassie. Jmzz and Nifa and I all ate pills before going out, it was very Jacqueline Susann. We went to the new Pantyhos Party to see JD from Le Tigre DJ. I wore my new huge red Grace Jones t-shirt and we all shook it. I love lesbian dance parties. Can I just say? Pantyhos is always so much fun because those. girls. fucking. bring. it. Kind of unreal. Went with JMZZ to Sugarland afterward. I managed to stay awake all night, thanks. Spent Saturday lounging around and having feelings, "working" on my "projects".

came over in the evening and we got groovy and dressed up. We went to the opening for the incredible fabulous Carolee Schneeman show at PPOW Gallery. The mature art-world ladies we encountered completely blew our minds with their fashion sense. Laz and I almost missed the, um, art. To give some indication, when we arrived at the gallery, the coat rack was full of jackets. And they were all leopard-print pea coats. We couldn't contain ourselves, and I had to very sneakily take photos with my camera.

Our favorite outfit is the partially-obscured woman on the far left. You can barely see it, but she's wearing a pointed black felt cap with a small black string puff on top. This, with a baby mini backpack, velvet harem pants tucked into black suede Uggs. Laz was moved to speak to speak to her, and pulled her aside to tell her how much we love her hat. She said she's been wearing it for six years and she sort of has to now because people expect it, and it makes her easy to spot in a crowd because she's short. She gestured to me and said "You, on the other hand, don't need a hat. Because you're tall." Very true. This woman was friends with the other Most Stylish Ladies, they're in a gang. Laz and I very much wanted to follow them to wherever the Best Dressed Ladies go for drinks, but we were too shy.

We spoke briefly with Ms. Carolee herself, Laz sort of knew her from a few years ago. She was very busy but also very sweet. He asked her about a show she had done a few years ago, if she remembered the crew she worked with or something, and she blithely replied "No, no. I don't remember anything more than five years ago." Pretty badass.

We went out to dinner at my new favorite restaurant Foodswings, then went to Sister Pico's house. There we found Lola, Chantal and Paps and we listened to Portishead and played 'Exquisite Corpse'. Laz, Pico and I went out to the Metropolitan, where we all agreed the fashion was definitely less exciting. Oh well.

Sunday I went to the fabulous PS1 opening. Obviously the Kenneth Anger exhibit is worth seeing. It was very seedy, cruisy, and nice. The Jonathan Horowitz exhibit was insane. I went through it three times. There's a video installation of the jumping-on-beds-singing-into-hairbrushes "Aint No Mountain High Enough" scene of Stepmother with Susan Sarandon juxtaposed with footage of Ashford & Simpson singing the song. I watched the video cycle through, like, six times, before I ultimately had to leave the exhibit because I started tearing up. Fucking Susan Sarandon. I can't stop. Laz is obsessed with her, they are meant to be friends. Bobo and I stayed in and watched the Oscars. Slept like babies.

Monday is difficult, yes. My parents are coming into town in April, they've just informed me. But they're coming at the absolute worst possible time, when I'll be up to my neck in rehearsals for The Play. Hopefully we can figure out some time for them to take me out to dinner. Yikes.


Please come.


Happy Talk

I used to think that when I got rejected it was so horrible, tragic, even. Not that it really happens anyway, but it used to, a few times. I felt pathetic. I felt like I was the loser and the object of my affection was the winner. Like: my adoration makes me weak (or something?) and his indifference to me made him strong, victorious, the winner. I felt like this the first few times it happened.

But I dunno. I've spent a lot of time being angry at myself and feeling pathetic and unlovable. And I've also spent a lot of time really resenting the people who don't like me back. Being angry at them. But you know what? It's not pathetic and it's not being weak.

I gathered up the tattered wisps I call 'my courage', having found again them at the bottom of one or another glass of gin, and I told you that I like you. I admitted that I think you're great. That's brave and true and there is not one bad thing you can say about that. Even if I'm not your type, and even if you have a boyfriend, or you think I'm totally gross because your friend told you how much of a bitch I am, or you're trying to scope this other guy right behind me and you don't want it to look like we're together, or you think I act like a bottom but pretend to be a top, or you are
just too through with Miss Thing over here. I don't care. Someone telling you they like you is a nice-slash-good-slash great thing, and there are a million ways to tell it. I didn't do anything wrong, and if you react like I did I'm pretty sure it's because you feel guilty. It's not really tragic, it's just unfortunate. I want to sit you down, now, years after the fact, now that we don't even know each other anymore and tell you What Really Went Down (in case you didn't know): I was totally in love with you, and you were such a dick to me.

But for the present situation. I do not need this shit, man. Sex with him could have been perfect, when I write about it in my zine it always is.

But really, trying to have sex with him was just like trying so hard to like him enough. It was exactly like smearing peanut butter into an electrical socket. Pointless, stupid and dangerous.

Good thing it's only Saturday.


Forget it I got it

Fuck the haters. I don't care. I want you all to check this out. I am, incredibly, featured on my favorite blog East Village Boys. Amazing.

Here's a photo of me playing the cello. My little brother is on the left. I think I made that tie-dyed t-shirt myself.

It's the cover of my diary from high school, which I'm going to post soon, too.


How We Love Each Other

What My Kisses Feel Like by Billy

T=Shirt Slogan Soul

Listening to Nature Morte this morning. I love Tae Won Yu. He's totally the unsung boy poet hero of riot grrrl. There were a lot of cute girls / stars involved with the riot grrrl phenom (obviously), but the boys were a different thing. Like obviously Calvin Johnson is a sex symbol, I'll do that post another day.

But Tae Won Yu! OMG!

I have a t-shirt I got from buyolympia that Tae designed. It's a picture of a broken heart. He apparently made his friend a mixtape and drew a picture of the friend wearing a broken heart t-shirt on the cover of the cassette and someone said "Hey, you should actually make that shirt". I would love to get a mixtape from Tae Won Yu. Even with a broken heart. I still love that t-shirt.

Kicking Giant have always felt like a sort of "advanced" riot grrl band. Like
Mecca Normal or Tattle Tale (all three bands went on a big tour together once). Kicking Giant were not, like, super duper poppy. They weren't really a party band. A little more difficult, and much more rewarding. But gosh. The way Tae sings about love is so sweet. He kind of harmonizes with himself. He's so enthusiastic in his songs. it's the sound of someone yearning or whatever. Really impatient to tell you about how they feel. He can't wait.

Nature Morte
(and the other smattering of stuff released as the KG) is so freaky. It's totally dub music. It's kind of like a west coast take on the NYC sound. You know, that kind of mishmashing of jangly new-wave indie guitars and beatboxes.

Also, Tae always sung about New York. The landmarks are there in his songs even after they moved to Olympia. I should start there. Tae Won Yu and Rachel Carns (who would of course later go on to form my favorite band in the world and the closest thing I have to a "spirit guide"--
The Need) met in NYC in the late 80s because they were both students at Cooper Union. Rachel and Tae met in class and thought each other was cool on the first day. The next day Tae showed up to the class wearing a home made t-shirt that read "RACHEL CARNS". How sweet is that? They started their amazing band Kicking Giant after that. I'm not sure if they were lovers or not, but some of their old interviews / quotes seem to imply so. I think Tae Won Yu is straight, actually. I feel like Perfect Little Daniel would know. I wonder sometimes if I had been the same age as them, if I would have liked them. These days I would probably really resent an art-hipster band of Cooper Union students. I generally just resent Cooper kids because they're education is free and I will be paying for mine for the rest of my life and why is that fair? Anyways, I like Kicking Giant now, coming to me as they did travelling the impossible distances of both the 1990s and the entirety of America.

Tae Won Yu is also responsible for the singer-songwriter now known to the world as Liz Phair. Maybe her name was always Liz Phair, though. Anyways, she began making music by sending 4-track demos of her songs to two person in the whole world, and one was Tae, in NYC, who then played them for everyone else. One old Kicking Giant track on a complication, "White Babies", is a song Liz Phair is singing into an answering machine. It's just okay, her first record is much better.

I saw the KG perform, once, at YoYo-A-GoGo 2001. I remember my friend Becky and I were sharing a hotel room with this guy who was OBSESSED with Tae Won Yu, so we got to the show super early. He wore white pants, which I thought was great. Heather Dunn from Tiger Trap played drums. They played really early in the day and I didn't recognize any of the songs. I had only really heard Alien ID and some of the cassettes. I remember finding the "Boyfriend Girlfriend" cassette at Amoeba in San Francisco one rainy day in high school, and I remember that that day I also got all of the old Courtney Love 7"s (not from Hole, obvi, but the Lois band) and I was so so happy. It was foggy and I remember eating a really good burrito and writing in journal about my finds.

His lyrics are so sweet and almost sexy, in that they're kind of scared and brave. "Finally now we're sitting here together listening to records of your favorite songs from 1987 or '8 well can't you see that I can't wait? So fuck the rules and make me yours tonight." And he's a super fox. Whiny, intelligent, angry, and usually has the right idea.

I'm gonna go listen to "She's Real" for the rest of my life, thanks.


For the one you love

I have a hangover. Not from booze but just from being myself. I feel like a reduction sauce: boiled down to my essence. Ready for use in all your favorite recipes. It's not a bad feeling. My long-lost friend Arizona told me recently that she's learned to make reduction sauces.

She moved from her native SF to Kansas with her husband. She's a teacher and a performance artist and I wish she lived near me so we could hang out. When were in college we took a "sculpture" class together that wasn't really sculpture. It was more like performance, history and theory class. But it took place in a sculpture studio. About half the class actually wanted to play with the clay. Arizona and I sort of just talked about romance and drew pictures of hearts. The teacher was the famous living artist Robin Winters. I studied with him again, with my best friend Bobo. Anyways. Arizona wrote a play called "Sky's Gone Out" based on Agamemnon and I did the music. It was a kind of post-punk / industrial socialist puppet show. Some of the dialogue was Kate Bush lyrics and Apollo wore an outfit made of swathes of army bullets. Then the next year Arizona and I started a band, called Bang! Bang! Indians!. It was a high-gothic cowgirl country band. Her band name was "Betsy Heavens" and she sang lead vocals and I was "Billy Faye" and played ukulele and sang back-up. We also had "Candy Corn" on viola and "the Duchess" on keyboards. I thought we were the best band ever. We rarely rehearsed and when we did someone always left the room crying (but not, to our credit, Arizona or I). Before shows we would spend hours picking out outfits and practicing southern accents and drinking moonshine and smoking clove cigarettes. Onstage we had arguments instead of singing. We wrote some beautiful songs (I still play our menstrual murder love song "Bloody Saddles" in my live set). We did heartbreaking covers of "Running up that hill" and "Divine Hammer". We opened for Mirah once, to a packed house. The Mirah fans got there super early and were horrified when they discovered we were the opening band. When they saw us lurching towards the stage in flannel, boots and eyeliner and whiskey, the audience turned their backs to us. We screamed at them to look at us and when they didn't we stormed the crowd. Catcalls and hecklers were frequent. The most common one: "You have no business being on a stage". We're sort of genius.

On Saturday I spent the day shooting photos for an upcoming thing on East Village Boys. The editors put me in touch with Shelby Gates to take photos. She was super cool and I was mega-flattered to work on this, especially w/ her. She noticed my L7 button and we instantly bonded. Shot photos at the bar where her cool rocker friends work in the LES. Sunday I worked at a fashion show (I mean "presentation") with my witch room mate Patrick. My friend Kevin works for the clothing designer and we bar tend and get free clothes. I was told that Kanye might show up, but he didn't, to my complete disappointment. I guess he was busy doing this:

Everyone in this photo is thinking about lunch. Roisin, however, is staring right at hers.
This was posted by my new twitter friend Nick. I'm kind of all about the microblogging, it's perfect for slogans. Shiny new toys.

Also on Sunday, I had my first real bona fide telekinetic experience. Maybe I shouldn't say telekinetic because then we get into arguing about moving objects with the mind, and wat exactly constitutes an object. I'm talking about controlling the way that smoke moves through the air with my mind. Maybe I should say it was a spiritual experience, but I'm pretty sure it happened because of my powers. Which by the way is not news to me (the fact that I have powers). It's just high time that I started using them. I knew they were there all along.

Reading Lisa Crystal Carver's Drugs Are Nice. Right after I read this Madonna book. I feel really encouraged. To be myself. As if there was someone else to be. No, I mean there is someone else to be: Billy. Let's switch.

I came into work this morning to find these waiting for me.


Why Don't They Let Us Fall In Love?

Burn this whole madhouse down

Slept with the windows open, under an industrial strength down comforter. Counting sheep last night before bed, kept wondering as a mantra into sleep: what's missing? What is being left out? I'm looking for you, I know you're in there.

I could just do it to myself, you know. I don't need someone to do it for me. Waving from across the other side of the river. This is optimistic, it means I've made it across, I want you to know that it's possible. Some arbitrary distance makes it impossible for me to really contact you, to reassure you. A) the river between us is deep and swift and loud b) you died four years ago c) you died four months ago d) I am trying to write a letter to a younger version of me, two years ago. On a certain tip, being a: (Back In Time, Come Home)

Jumping on lily pads. Think you're being brave for crying. You think there's courage in your anger, and there is. It should work, the trick of your feelings. You had a hunch that if you just wanted it bad enough it'd have to happen. And you're not wrong. Your hunch is right: That is enough but just not right now. You think if you wait, if you get patient it'll work, but you can't stay awake forever and he's nocturnal. He tells you that you have to fight for it and cuts you into fighting back. It's not your fault you have to wield yourself a weapon, I forgive you blood. I know you don't want to fight. You think by getting mad and sad and brave, you'll scare him into loving you back, but isn't that just as awful anyways?

Walking cold and not encouraged except by listening to "Iceblink Luck" over and over and over. An inauspicious morning, but there is a lot of room left to decide. (Mostly, rooms inside).


See some trauma in there

Had a dream last night about Alex Da Corte. I hope I get to see him again soon. The last time I saw him was at the Metropolitan. I realized my date had just stood me up, and I was about to storm off angrily I ran into Alex, who I hadn't seen for like six years. The last time I saw him he was so sick, and now he's not. And now he's getting actually really really famous, and deserves it. It was really sweet.

I have kind of a crush on this guy for the sole reason that he is deceitful and stupid and going about his life the wrong way (in my estimation). Affection is productive and distracting. The charm of the illicit. The sexy idiot, you know? The greasy meal. The leaky fuel tank. let's go down, together.

Resisting the urge to be a bitch. I sort of feel like using my words to divide the world into: a) people who get me and b) people who do not get me. I wonder if anyone switches teams, if that's possible.

My therapist, to me, last night: "I realized after you told me that story, that the response you have been having is one that people have when they come out of abusive relationships. I'm seeing some trauma there." That really struck me.

I love the windy weather. It reminds me of growing up in LA, where they have Santa Anna winds, really warm winds that drive people crazy. Beautiful. Makes me want to listen to PJ Harvey and smoke clove cigarettes. I wish I was with La JJ so we could let it ruin our hair together. Someday soon, I hope.

I'm off to a party, then another party, then another. This video. This record is why I moved to NYC.


Money / The Apocalypse

My horoscope said I should cast a love spell on myself. That sounds about right, but it's still a little scary. Like, I know I need to change some of my situation, I get that. I understand the work that needs to be done. Everything is already put into piles and boxes marked "give-away", my love life is a serious giveaway pile. I know what I need to get rid of and what I need to make room for. I just need to, you know, get the shit out of my apartment. And I'm working on it. Slowly. Last night Lazarus (new nickname: MEGADEATH or just MEGA or just DEATH for short) slept at our house. He interns at the same office space as me. Dan is also working with me today. Buddies at work. Love. I ate cereal before I left the house but I was still ravished when Laz-Mega and I were walking to work so I ate a donut. I don't regret it, it was a good donut.

Speaking of good donuts and
Dan, buddy Dan is featured in Time Out New York's annual DATE THESE NEW YORKERS article, and his pretty little face is on the cover of the magazine. He's about to get so ridiculously laid.

I was go-go dancing at QxBxRx on Saturday and I spoke with this cute reporter guy while I was in the bathroom line. We were talking about gays and the recession, and he tape recorded some choice quotes from me. Typically drunk, "political", topical and tropical. So now I'm quoted in today's New York Observer article about Gays and the Recession. I feel alright with the fact that I am in print saying the words "Fuck Prop 8!" but I'm more than a little disappointed that he didn't use my (very eloquent, I thought) quotes about the coming Apocalypse in 2012 as a reason not to get too worried about the recession. It's just around the corner, people. And though I was particualrly drunk during our little chat (I'm a go-go boy, it's part of my job, I'm a professional), I clearly recall telling the reporter, with regards to the Apocalypse, "It Can't Come Soon Enough!" The papes, as they say. Commenters on the NY Observer site think I'm an idiot and they're right. But the real treat about this is that I've (finally) been mocked on Gawker. That is wonderful, they refer to me as a twink. There aren't any photos in the NYO article so they must have somehow just divined the fact that I am a twink from my quote. The photo at the left is me dancing and carrying on on saturday night, by Keith Greiger. This is also cool because having anonymous people make snarky comments about quotes from me taken out of context is another thing, now that Lily Allen and I have in common. Just saying.

Thinking of it

This is as good a snapshot as anything else, I think.

Things I need to buy at the grocery store:
  • Coffee
  • Soymilk
  • Bread
  • Cereal
  • Yogurt
  • Peanut Butter
  • Rice Cakes
  • Tofu
  • Tempeh
  • Onions
  • Kale
  • Pickles
  • Bell Peppers
  • Apples
  • Raisins
  • Salad dressing
  • Olive oil
  • Pasta
  • Ice cream

Things to discuss with my therapist tonight:
  • My sex life
  • Student loans
  • Goals: go to Europe, somehow
  • The mouse in my kitchen
  • The Apocalypse
  • Why I can't just drop it, or get over anything, ever
  • Getting drunk and losing my wallet
  • This guy I think is cute and how I feel really conflicted about it
  • Being too hard on myself
  • Not being hard enough on everyone else
  • Finding a way to be harder on the world
  • Not letting resentful haters get me down
  • Why bragging / name-dropping is so upsetting to me (why?)
  • Joining Twitter
  • Bossy dudes who think that bossing me around turns me on, and it so totally doesn't.

Songs I listen to when I feel bad:
  • The Spinanes- "Hawaii Baby"
  • Internal/External- "Stepping Up to the Mic (Featuring Kathleen Hanna)"
  • De La Soul- "Magic Number"
  • Planningtorock- "Modern Love"
  • Pash(ly)- "eSSI"
  • Laura Nyro- "Blackpatch"
  • Sleater-Kinney- "What if I was Right?"
  • Bobby Birdman- "I Will Come Again"
  • Janelle Monae- "Many Moons"
  • Santogold / Stiffed- "Your Voice"
  • Land of the Loops- "Growing Concern"
  • Grace Jones- "I'm Not Perfect (But, I'm Perfect for You)"
  • Raincoats- "Animal Rhapsody (12" Extended Mix)"
  • Mecca Normal- "Who Shot Elvis?"
  • Slits- "Ping-Pong Affair"


you don't fool me, not even for a second. the key to the crack in it. you could unlock it. and you do.

"just like that."

we Saw Yr Ghost + We Pawned It For A Keyboard

My favorite band, probably ever.

You Keep Me Awake

I bought a record player online. I wish I could get all my old records from california. My mom and dad's collection of old 70s soul records. And all those fabulous Kill Rock Stars 7"s.

But really, I want these two records on vinyl. I have them on CD and mp3 but it's not the same. Kurdt talked a lot about how their self-titled first record "got [him] through some rough times". These two babies saved my life as well. Even their comeback records are fucking flawless. These two, though, are literal magick. They change you when you hear them.

Clue What Yr Doing

Tracking it, like keeping track of it. I've been rehearsing my show for the 24th. I'm really nervous about it. On one hand, I really want a lot of people to come, but on the other hand I'm really nervous about anybody seeing it. It feels very adolescent and teenage. It's really short and painful and embarrassing. well, not embarrassing. I'm getting over embarrassment. When I was in high school I went to Bikram yoga every day (this was 1999, honey, way before it was cool and way before your tired ass started doing it-- just saying). And I had this really great instructor, this former dancer turned yogic princess. I think she may have actually called herself Jasmine or something. Very East Bay California. Very kind of modern Liberal chic. Exotic. At the time, Bikram yoga places were sprouting up all over the East Bay, and there was a big scandal because at one of the centers, they trained their own instructors, which is a big no-no. Reggie Bikram himself later copyrighted the practice, but at the time it was just considered gauche. To be a real instructor you had to go to India and train. The way Jasmine had.

So I went to yoga like every night because I wanted to be thin, because I thought that if I got skinny people would like me more. Sadly true, but it didn't work until college (or even after college). And I'd go all the time and I got really good at it. At some point I missed a bunch of classes and when I came back it was really difficult. Jasmine said "I could see your heart. I could see your heart beating. Your young heart was working so hard tonight, Max." I said that I regretted not coming in for the last few days, and Jasmine totally flashed on me. She dropped the yogic goddess thing and got very ' real' and said in a sharp tone: "No. I don't like that. I think regret is really useless. It's totally pointless. No. Don't regret that." I think she meant for it to be consoling, but all it did was make me insanely curious about what had happened to her life, way back, before she went to India, that made her wrestle and get so worked up at the mere mention of the word 'regret'. I never did find out.

But these days I try not to regret a lot. It is, kinda, a waste of energy.

I used to be really into DBT but I don't like group therapy (not right now, anyways). The whole thing of skills, skilling really appealed to me. I like the idea of arming these groups of young neurotic self-injurious little (mostly girl) waifs with the skills to, in the actual words of the program "get what you want", using nothing but ideas and questions and good energy. I liked that but I have sort of moved on.

I've got this new kind of "get out of jail free" card for break-ups and arguments and any bad interaction with anyone. And when the boy you like doesn't like you or stops liking you or won't stop liking you. Or whatever the problem is. The new trick that I've been into (and am moving past) is pretty much just like my last post: secrets are about their keepers, lies are more about the liars than information. Like if some dude doesn't wanna bang you, it's his problem and his loss. This isn't being self-centered, it's more like: it is his decision to not make out, not my decision. Not my fault, not about me, really.

This is just an example because everyone wants to make out with me.

But seriously, when I stress about shit I don't blame the other person I just realize that they're probably acting in the way that they think is right for them. Or, I don't even know why they do the things they do. I don't know why people fall into arguments or love with me. And I won't know whatever their motivation is. It's not my problem. It's not about me, really. So I can't fix it. So I'm gonna make a cup of coffee and just get on. No harm no foul and this is not about you Francine, but it was inspired by our quick quips this morning.

Speaking of LILY ALLEN. I still think she and I would get along really well. Her new record comes out today and it's title is very appropriate to this post. It's Not Me, It's You. How cute is that? It's a really great record but it's not the same kind of weird ska stuff as her last one, so Pitchfork prolly hates it. I hope she gets USA MTV famous. Lily and I would have a lot in common, I think. We're both hilarious, and battle insecurities. And now, we have even more in common with each other.


You know it boy you saw it honey you were there so let's just go

This morning I bought an apple at the farmer's market in Union Square, then a pretzel croissant at City Bakery. It might be the perfect food were it not for the fact that it provides exactly no nutrients at all. Listening as always to Laura Nyro, pondering the beautiful mind that'd come up with that stuff. Warm weather cheers me up.

I've come to some realizations, or I'm coming up with some slogans. The thing about keeping secrets is that the actual message isn't so important as the way you tell it. Or in the case of secret gossip, it says more about who is not saying. Secrets are about their keepers. Following that, questions are all about their askers. I'm reading you, and I am reading into you. I don't want to listen to what you say, but the telling says a lot about you. Following further this logic, love is about the lovers. That doesn't make much sense but let's focus on the tongues and not the teeth. The lips. You like them, yeah? You can have them if you want them. Here.

Go-go dancing with Richert at QxBxRx. He gets so many more tips than I don't, and that doesn't really bother me. I feel fine with that. At the exact moment in the evening when I realized that he was getting all this tip money and I was getting, well, none (I kept spending my dollar billz on boozles-- gotta stay hydrated) then I got a tip. Pity? I dunno. It doesn't really matter why, it matters who. I later realized that my fantasy pity-tipper was none other than Carlos from the Peechees. So, y'know, teenage high school crush. I feel pretty good about myself.

Spent the end of QxBxRx making out with a dude as usual, who had a boyfriend, as usual. Fuck what you heard: she's a homewrecker. Left the boyfriend dude and went to Bklyn where I had a real romantic interlude.

I'm feeling kind of romantic, generally, because of the weekend, so I started Morrison's A Mercy. I bought it in November, when she was reading from it and signing copies at the NY Library event and I had been putting off actually reading the book because it's pretty short and I didn't want it to end. I'm like 20 pages in and already plenty of dead babies. It's so weird, she's like really 'gentle', in tone. But also wants you to witness the blood-letting (I'm not being figurative, there's some blood-letting in the book). Genius. Maybe the most useful class I took in college was the really really hard literature course where we only read books by Toni Morrison, Gloria Naylor, and Alice Walker. They're my favorites now, sort of.

I've been thinking in the past day about romantic desire, which I almost never have. Not because I'm pessimistic but because I am too connected to the reality of the world / planet earth to worry too much about being in love. Like: the apocalypse is just around the corner, y'know? But I've been thinking about the distance of desire. It has to be something you do not have, in order for you to want it. And the other part of desiring the other is to recognize it. Not only "recognize" as in acknowledge the separateness of the object, the independence from yourself and the differences and desire that make the object desirable. But also "to recognize" as in to realize that you desire the object. This recognition-as-romance thing is at the heart of Toni Morrison's books, often. I like tat feeling. Of, you know, "Oh, right. There you are. I know you." Certain movements and colors, and I remember that I know you, or I want to, so let's get to it.


Internet Christmas

I treat the internet like Santa Claus. I'll just ask for what I want. Maybe someone who can make it happen will read this.

I still want a Comme Des Garcons wallet. Please.

Also, the new thing: I DECIDED I AM IN LOVE WITH JAMES KALIARDOS. But I don't think he would go for me. His ex boyfriend is Nicola Ghesqiuere. I can't beat that. But I'm alright! I'm nice! I'm a really good boyfriend! And I think James is so cute. So if someone reading this could make this happen, that'd be great.

Both of these things relate to the fashion world, actually. Not to be a super brat, but they could happen together. Like, I dunno. Someone go tell James Kaliardos I wanna marry him and that he should bring me that fucking CDG wallet. Okay.

I'm gonna go read a book.
When I'm down everyone wants to tell me how I have no right to feel down and how much of a baby I am and when I'm up everyone gets resentful (jealous) and wants to tell me why I shouldn't get too excited.
You know. And meanwhile, I have to invite myself out to dinner.
Over it!

You don't know what I'm thinking cause I'm not thinking anything

I guess I'm going to stay in tonight, and cook, and clean. And do my laundry. And rehearse my show for February 24th. It's not going to be very long, I'm getting good at it. I hope people will like it.

I don't feel very good today. But I feel like I'm supposed to. So I feel bad and then I feel guilty for feeling bad. I like it when, in lover's quarrels, people threaten suicide. "Well, how bout I just fucking kill myself, huh? Would you like it if I just blew my motherfucking brains out right now? You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I'm really into lover's quarrels because they're so foreign to me. I think I'd be really good at them though. My horoscope for today promised good feelings. Maybe I can still get them, but it seems doubtful.

And Lux Interior died. I never got to see the Cramps perform live, but I listened to them when I was in middle school. Lux Interior existed only in photos and songs for me, but still made a pretty big impression. Before I knew about him I didn't know that boys could do stuff like that, play around in drag and not necessarily be a girl. Also, at the time my only model of men in high heels was Rocky Horror or something. But Lux was tough, Lux was a punk rocker. He showed that you could be glamorous and horrible, boy and girl at the same time. He was also, I should say, a big influence on Peaches, and for that reason alone America's fags should mourn his death. Sad.

Quote by Lux Interior: "We're just people who remain ever-curious. We're just attracted to whatever comes in handy. Again, like the Surrealists, anything you run across is actually beautiful; within a single city block, you find miraculous things. It's a good planet -- and good things can happen."

I'm working on a new issue of my zine Scorcher. The last story in it is going to be like a creation-myth or bible story. I've been writing some more ROMANTIC things, because I was trying to make a point. But then I realized that I should just do whatever I want, generally, and not worry so much. SO the new issue is gonna be romantic and psychedelic and also biblical. I'm really into putting something from one place into every other place. From "BE BILLY":

In the beginning she had nothing but her nerve, one. The next day a button to keep it in. She fed and slept. First she grew a finger to trigger the button. Then she grew another nine. Yawning, purpose and circuit complete she could take her time.

I’m thinking about you and the lights are turning purple. I’m cutting off their blood, they’re gasping and I’m holding my breath lover. I know you’ll be back I’m just counting backwards from until I get back down to one.
I'm gonna play this song over and over tonight, really loud, while I scrub dishes and cook dinner. The video is really pretty, and reminds me of La JohnJoseph. I think Lisa Germano always does, though. Once, last spring, JJ said he was feeling down. "Funereal" was the word she used, and I dragged him to an iced cream social at my friend's house. In the hallway, someone was throwing out a copy of Lisa Germano's record Geek the Girl, and I told him he should really take it. It's perfect brooding music, for sad days. In the summer of 2007 I got dumped and I was horribly depressed. I spent some quality time on my bedroom floor that summer, with the blinds closed and the air condtioner on high, eating ativan pills and moaning along to that beautiful, beautiful record. I wanted la JJ to have a similarly cathartic experience, but as soon we got to the ice cream party, everyone just flipped out over him. It was one of the first, and certainly not the last times I saw a room full of strangers fall totally in love with him. He has that way about him. It's not like with other celebrities where you love them so much you start to resent them-- with La JohnJoseph you just see him nuture all this crazy goodness out of people. Everyone wants to be a better, nicer, smarter person around him. I think that's just great.

Lisa Germano and this video remind me of him because of that personal connection. Also because this video is like La JohnJoseph's new novel Everything Must Go. There's a certain romance in the gestures of tragedy, in the posturing of the American Gothic. By invoking little baby girls, La JohnJoseph isn't trying to shock and horrify (or, not JUST shock and horrify), but part of what is so beautiful and intense about this video and Everything is the juxtaposition in Lisa's voice: sexy, sad, dirty, sweet, and she knows it.


Rubber and Glue Maidenhead

  • I've arrived at the sad conclusion best summed in the metaphor that I am Madonna and you are Sean Penn and it's the early 1990s. I'm drinking Evian out of a crystal wine glass and talking about you to a room full of starving faggots. They wrote one song about you but Sonic Youth did a whole album about me.
  • Tell your friend her hair looks really stupid like that.
  • And thank god for tea tree oil. God I hope it doesn't get banned, in Europe or anywhere. And I hope it works.
  • Saw the mouse again last night.
  • On Sunday I had the most intense craving for meat. I'm treating the craving as I would a dream: what does it mean?
  • Remaining optimistic. Methodical, slow, deep, and sexy. Like this:


My Life So Fucking Fantastic

You know what? I think Lily Allen is really cool and I hope she gets super famous. She's been through a lot of dumb shit, waiting for Kate Nash and Amy Winehouse to fade away and they have (for now) so I think Lily Allen deserves all the money she can get. I think she's a great singer and she's really cute and p.s. she has a third nipple, look it up on youtube she shows it, and she's also hilarious.
I just wanna wrestle you to the ground and show you that I'm just as strong as I ever was and I can still win and once I pin you down I'm going to spit into your eyes and tell you how much I love you.


Giving Her A Fade

Saturday I hung out with Sister Pico, who dyed her hair blond, and then my buddy Marcus. He's studying in school to be a psychoanalyst. Very difficult thinking. I played a show at Europa Cafe with La La Vek, Taiysha Busay, and Todosantos. It was pretty amazing. LaLaVek did a really sweet set, sort of emo (for him) and did a really cool remix of Kathleen Hanna's "I Wish I Was Him". I am plainly in awe of Tayisha Busay, enthralled by the dancers, I can't stop. It was insane. Todosantos I hadn't heard of before, but they did this crazy live video mixing and had this weird ind of jungle music / digital hardcore thing. And the lead singer was such a babe. I had been nervous about the show, I figured the bad energy from Retrograde Mercury, which I blame for my stolen wallet (among other grievances) would affect my performance. I picked out a nice outfit involving feathers and this weird white cloth thing that Terrence Koh once gave out at an opening. I felt very Stevie Nicks and I think that came across onstage. I managed to completely obscure Jiddy for the duration of the performance. I'm sorry.

Also on Saturday night was a really cool art show at Monkeytown. I didn't go, but I was in it. Ruthie Doyle filmed me dancing in my room last summer, and managed to capture a pretty good representation of my "vibe", so to speak. The song is "Morning Sun" by Pash(ly), which is definitely one of my favorite songs ever. So it was featured in a really amazing art show, which was then
featured on Vice Magazine's website? Weird, huh? Anyways, you can see the video I'm in below:

Max (from the "eau de Bedroom Dancing" series) from Ruthie Doyle on Vimeo.

So I lost my wallet on Friday night and while I have an old wallet to use while I'm in the process of replacing everything, I want a new wallet. Specifically,
I want a Comme des Garçons zip-around wallet. I want it in black, or red, or blue, or green, or holographic animal print. I don't care. They're expensive (for me), so it's a real case of buying the wallet and then having nothing to put into the wallet. But I want one so badly. La JohnJoseph and Brad Walsh both write on their blogs about expensive fashionable things they want, and sometimes they get them. I know it's maybe a little bit bratty but if anyone reading this wants to give me one I'll tell you how. Thanks. Preferably in black, though. Thanks.

Last night Jiddy was over and after we played sega genesis and cooked delicious vegan mexican food dinner (I'm a home-maker), she spotted a mouse, in my kitchen, running towards me. I yelled at it and it went away. Hopefully forever. I know how unlikely this is. Just after I found out I lost my wallet on Saturday morning, I ran outside to where the taxi had dropped me off to look for it. No luck, I then got my mail and found a $200 medical bill, which I am unable to pay for a number of reasons, the leats of which being my bank account is currently frozen. Yes. Okay.

Also, finally, if you're in NYC and read the free gay glossy weekly magazines, you may notice that
I wrote the cover story for this week's HX Magazine, on Kylie Minogue's new remix album. Check it out!

Love for everyone.
I'm trying really hard to stay positive.
(It would be easier if someone was anonymously sending me couture wallets, kthnxbye).