Friday night Lazarus, Patrick and I drank caffeinated malt things and beers in our living room, then went to Sugarland. Violet Temper, old college chum, was MC-ing, and was so funny. Richert was there go-going like a real professional. It was an okay time, but then we went at Lazarus' urging to a "sex-positive party" in Wburg, which I kept referring to all night as "that gross orgy Lazarus wants us to go to.". It wasn't really an orgy but there were some naked people. It was sort of just like the parties I went to in college, I guess. Except this was all adults, people who should have known better. A lot of neon acrylic blacklight bodypaint. Some very nice people.
Saturday I laid low in anticipation of the long night ahead. Lazarus and I went record shopping and I sort of lost it because I found Debbie Jacob's Undercover Lover as well as Laura Nyro's Tendaberry, ELi and the 13th Confession and Smile. So into it.
I read a new story at the Birdsong party. There were so many people there! I was really impressed with everyone's work. Jiddy performed a tiny set with Jess, it was so adorable. Perfect Little Daniel read a poem and also some Black Eyes lyrics. PLD and I went home to drink vodka with Patrick and then went out to the Hose for the POO Party. It was fun and they played good music but I didn't think there were enough people dancing! Not enough people for my taste. If it were up to me, I would have put more people from the bathroom line (which was crowded) to the dance floor (which was not crowded). I solved this little dilemma myself by dancing while I was waiting to pee. I implored the other fabulous queers in the line to "please there's a whole back room to do drugs in or give blowjobs or whatever I just need to pee please please please". Sometimes I'm so fucking adorable I wanna throw myself out a window. PLD and Patrick and I were too broke to order many drinks at the actual bar (though I really honestly tried) and so we drank some beers in a parking lot and I started going off about strategies of queer resistance and articulating our desires and the radical possibilities of subjectivity and all that. So you know how I was feeling.
We skidaddled back to Brooklyn where we met up with Tommy at Metro. His fabulous friend Becky is in town and she was hilarious and I love her a lot. Last call at the Metropolitan is, in some ways, the most fun to be had anywhere. Here's why: it's just people screaming at each other. I had a lot of fun, even when a nasty girl tried to pick a fight with me.
Her: "So, like, hi."
Her: "So if youweregunna make fun of yourself? Like if you walked into the room and saw yourself what is the first thing you would make fun of yourself for?"
Her: "What would you hate about yourself?"
I decided not to take the bait. Me: "If I saw me when I walked into a room I would be jealous of myself."
Which I guess is the same thing as, you know, taking the bait. But that's what she wanted to hear and since I am a professional showbiz performer I like to, in the words of Dynasty Handbag, GIVE 'EM WHAT THEY WANT! Speaking of professionalism and showbiz and performance, I'm performing at a new multimedia dinner theater cabaret, thrown by the Secret Faggot crew, called BEARDED HEART.
I don't know what exactly my performance is going to be. I was gonna just sing and dance but that seems a little too "energetic" fr dinner theater. Plus I'm playing with such superstars. I mean, Novice Theory and Glenn Marla? It's hosted by House of Ladosha. I'm intimidated! I want to do something that's part talking and part singing. I think I'm gonna sing "Bloody Saddles" or a cover song and tell a little story. La JJ gave me some advice on this and I think it was right-on, as usual. Please do come out, regardless.
After we all got kicked out of the Metropolitan, we bought more beer (I insisted that we buy candy, too) and retired to Sister Pico's apartment. There we watched Mo'Nique's I Could Be Your Cell Mate until it got too real / depressing / inspiring. At some point, screaming and rolling around on Tommy's roof, I had the really distinct idea that: "Why do I have to go to sleep? Who says? What do I have to live for, anyway?" I evidently passed out and was put to bed, along with PLD and Becky. We woke up the next day to find out that the rest of our party had gone out for mroe beer at 8am and ordered breakfast at 9am and didn't wake us up! I tried to get Tommy up on my way out, so that he could sleep in his own bed, but he was passed out on his kitchen floor and no amount of me whispering sweet nothings into his ear (I kept saying the words "Pizza Burger, Tommy! Pizza Burger!") could rouse him.
I spent almsot all of Sunday laying in a pile of clothes on Bobo's bed, reading some. Eventually met back up with Pico and crew to waqtch television shows at Paps' house. Ate candy bars in bed and woke up with a tummy ache but it was totals worth it.
Btw I want everyone to notice how I'm not complaining about the snow.