Listen Baby

I posted an entry over at the Birdsong blog, about the history of me and Bobo's senior-year-of-college newsletter, NOMENCLATURE

I've been really bumming lately because I'm not making enough progress on my Life Goals. My Life Goal is to go to Berlin. That's it. That should be easy but I can't get there. Is anyone in Berlin reading this? Please write me if so. I'm gonna start using this blog to complain about how much I wanna go to Berlin, like, a lot. Just FYI.

This weekend I'm super excited to be go-go dancing at my favorite party in NYC: QxBxRx
I am especially double triple excited because the headline act of this fabulous evening is none other than California's own YOUNGER LOVERS which is maybe my favorite new band, the brainchild of, of course, BRONTEZ. I know all the words to all the songs and I am so, so excited that they're coming! I can hardly contain myself. I think I should start drinking alcohol now to get my tolerance up because I've been such a fucking lightweight recently and I don't want to end up puking while I'm go-go dancing (though how hilarious would that be?). Come on down on Saturday night and see if I toss my cookies!


God remember the time P corrected Jil's grammar? at the party on the roof-top, for memorial day, I think. Yeah we were all eating a lot, it was a party. P was talking to Jil about something, I dunno, about work or graduate school or something and Jil responded in some weird way. Like, Jil used a verb as a noun or something? Something along the lines of like "Yeah working at the bank is like a really intense environment, it's really... I dunno, RUSH-y, you know? Everyone's in such a rush". Something really easy and whatever. And P who is so anal about everything cause I dunno she's insecure or something, said "Wow, you use words in really... interesting... ways. Oh, i think it's because you're a dancer..." like sort of calling Jil illiterate even though she knew exactly what Jil mean. I thought that was so mean.

I remember that was almost exactly a year ago and it was also the first day of mercury retrograde and it was also when our landlords called to raise our rent (we renegotiated it-- mercury retrograde) but I was so nervous at the party about having to move that I started eating a lot and Jil pulled me aside and said "Billy, just cause your rent is going up that's no reason to give yourself indigestion" and I thought that was really mean, then sweet. and true.

e-mail i'm not sending


On Fire

So the other day I was blogging about Jeffery and Cole's new show JEFFERY AND COLE CASSEROLE. Logo has posted some preview clips of the first episode, so I am reproducing them here for your enjoyment:

Aren't they just the fucking cutest? Here's the "Prom Date" scene in which I play Becky.

Jeffery and Cole are also nominated for a Logo NewNowNext Award. Please go vote for them!

I was having the absolute worst day today (for no particular reason) and then my boss asked me if I wanted a cookie, cause he was going out to get himself a cookie. I demurred but he either misheard me or somehow divined my very real, very shameful need for a cookie and brought me back a nice big fresh NYC black and white cookie and that has made all the difference, really. I'm going out on a date tonight and I think I look pretty cute.



I have always liked Azita Youssefi. She has always been mysterious and sexy.

Of course she's probably best-known (maybe not anymore though) for starting the Scissor Girls, Chicago's No-Wave heroines of the 1990s. They were definitely not part of the riot grrrl thing. I don't know why or how, but this distinction was clear, I think, from the get-go. Even still Thurston gave their 10" (
S-T-A-T-I-C-L-A-N-D) a big shout-out and rightly so. The Scissor Girls were punk, I guess. But they also had this whole science fiction mythology. And really zany outfits. There was the sense of sort of brooding evil and magick, dark sinister technology, along with, like whimsy. Genuine Fun. When Erase Errata got really big in 2000 I thought a lot about the Scissor Girls, too. Girl No-Wavers. The Scissor Girls had their own looks and moods and were very glamorous and talked a lot about vampires and skeletons and Azita was kind of the Diana Ross of the group.

Then after SG broke up, she founded Bride of NoNo. I wish I had better photos of them-- it was another all-girl no-wave band, but they wore these kind of stylized white burkas onstage. It was to take the attention off of their individual identities, but of course Azita's playing and singing is recognizable and she is great and super smart. Bride of NoNo's first record, the amazing
BONN Appetit is really dance-y, I like it a lot. Their second album, titled II is really good too, but more piano-based.

After Bride of No No split up, Azita started releasing solo records.
Enantiodromia and Life on the Fly are both really beautiful piano pop records. Her sense of phrasing and singing is super weird. It gets compared a lot to Steely Dan but I think it's different. It's sort of poppy, and sort of loopy. She's really smart, has her whole art / music theory edge but of course also put in her time as an anarchic punk rocker. She just released her newest record, How Will You? on Drag City and you should get it. She's playing in NYC on May 18th at the Mercury Lounge and I really want to go.

Here's a really cute video of her playing a Neil Young song. I'm not really into Neil Young but I do like Azita a lot so this is fun for me:

Azita's Website


Express the comfort

Oh,. yeah, go see my story "Team", it's been illustrated at posted on my favorite blog East Village Boys. It's an old story, I am really proud to be featured on there.

Friday night I went to the gym and I hadn't been for so long, it was difficult. I've spent the last few months smoking a lot and not working out and only eating junk food because I've been in the play. I've been living like I'm traveling by air, this is what I do in airports. I've been living an airport life. So I went to the gym, it was really difficult but it made me feel sexy. Difficult things do. Bobo and I went over to Sister Pico's apartment to help put together issues of the new zine. She had assembled a team of us to set up this little assembly line. I was pretty useless, though, and spent the evening smoking everyone's cigarettes, eating chinese take-out and complaining loudly. This is my "teamwork", this is why no one else is in my band and why I was no good at soccer when I was a kid.

Saturday I went over to Jeffery's house to shoot some video. Jeffery and Cole, as you may know, are nascent television stars, and I am very humbled and honored to be invited to participate with them in their upcoming television show. The episode we filmed on Saturday features a cameo by Mxr Justin Bond, which is pretty amazing yeah? Below is one of their YouTube videos, I think it's really funny:

Sometimes young gay artists get a little static from our elders for, like, not showing respect / appreciation / acknowledgment of our history. Specifically, how current queer youth culture lives in a fictive "post-AIDS" fairyland. And to a certain extent, I understand that criticism. I think that since the beginning of the AIDS crisis, gay aesthetics have started glamorizing life, you know? Living. Death isn't the point. Not the only one, not anymore. One of the things I like about Jeffery and Cole's comedy, though, is that it kind sort of addresses this. Very cool.

While we were shooting, I messed up my line and we had to do it again (I am not a television star, folks, I make mistakes). Cole was joking around about needing to do it over again, and made some reference to the outtakes for the hit teleivision show Golden Girls, in which Betty White says "Oh, no-- Bea messed it up. Bea messed up! Do it over!" And I didn't think much of that at all. However, by Saturday afternoon, the news had broken: Bea Arthur was dead. Now, I don't want to point fingers. I don't like to play the "blame game". We live in an uncertain world, where nothing is 100% guaranteed. That all being said, I am pretty sure Cole killed Bea Arthur, somehow. I can also say with some degree of certainty that Cole is also responsible for this Swine Flu thing, and has apparently given it to his costar Jeffery. Somehow. There are no coincidences. Or, rather: it's all part of the same big coincidence.

I spent most of Saturday afternoon moaning about the heat and cleaning the apartment. Went to the amazing Birdsong Zine Release Party at Stain Bar. It was pretty packed. There were a million readers and (I thought) a really sweet crowd. A particular highlight was my friend Lauren S, who shared some of her observations: "Guys, looking for apartments is so much fun! One place smelled just like bongwater and B.O. I asked the realtor: 'Is this my exboyfriend's bedroom?' You think I'm kidding but I'm being serious, is it?" Very cute.

After the zine reading we had an afterparty at my house. Now, I'm a social guy. I like to be nice. I always think that I can handle being a host, because it's, you know, my house, so I should feel comfortable. One of the ways I express this comfort is by drinking a lot before the party even starts. Tommy had brought a case of white wine, so everyone got drunk but didn't want to admit that they were drunk on white wine (it doesn't count, or something) so they all kept drinking vodka and rum with warm soda. It was gross. I evidently passed out at one in the morning when my friends put me to bed. I thought that was sort of classy, the hostess getting all tuckered out. I'm told by friends who were on the scene that I went to bed just before everyone started puking, how lucky. I'm also told that I periodically emerged from my bedroom wearing only my underwear to crawl around on the floor of my apartment on my hands and knees, threatening to vomit. I remember breaking into my bathroom while someone was in there and telling them they could do whatever they wanted, pee or whatever, but I just wanted to sit on the tiled floor. My darling friend Diego apparently tried to get my off the floor, I think there was a misunderstanding. I needed to just be down there for a little while.

You know, being a good hostess.

Sunday I spent in the park with Sister Pico, Paps, Roy, Mickey Pussy and Ptrck the Witch (whose birthday the party was also for). We had a lot of fun ogling the people, describing moods. I went home and watched an old 1950s sci-fi movie.

Tonight I am going to not freak out, but I am going to get to work, in earnest. Things are looking up and out. And everywhere. All the time.


Like a Robot for Your Love

Here are some more photos of our recent performance at the Bleecker St. Theater for the Cockette's DVD release. I am joined onstage by Jiddy and Richert. Trust.

Photos by the lovely Miss Gerry Visco, who covered the event for NY Press.

We Love To Fuck Us

My best friend and room mate Bobo took this picture of me with a cupcake last weekend. I'm acting (in the photo) like I don't care but really I was excited about the cupcake and I immediately ate it. Check out Bobo's ART WEBSITE, too. I'm going to have a zine release party in June to celebrate the new issue of Scorcher, which I am still putting together (in my head). It is going to be released via Birdsong Micropress, and I am very excited. The zine release party is going to be held in a NYC gallery, I am totally excited, and will post more details soon. Hold on to your hats.

Speaking of magazines, I wanted to plug this other cool zine that was forwarded to me recently. TRY STATE MAGAZINE is a new publication that is just now coming out. The first issue features a ton of really cool queer artists, like: Csaba Faludi, ROBBEYOND, Stuart Sanford, Sylvain Norget, Luke GIlford, McKenzie James, Boland, Luigi y Lorca, Mikel Marton, Austin Young, Caroline Torem Craig, Caled Ilda, Lee Harvey Roswell, Drasko Bogdonovic, Vivien Ayrolues & Stefano Marchionini (Entr'ouvert) and Adriano Batista.

On the cover is, of course, Gio Black Peter. I think he is so cool. I met him in 2006 when I was new to NYC. I was performing at the Boysroom and he was working at the bar. He mentioned that he was in a band, too, and was sort of shy and sweet about it. Very humble and down to earth and nice. I had no idea, of course, the extent of his genius. Very shortly after meeting him, Gio ran away to Europe and is now an internationally renowned art star. I think his work is super cool, I say it all the time, and he is very sweet to boot. I hope he becomes really, ridiculously famous. He and I are not really friends in real life or anything, we don't even know each other, but his work feels familiar and relevant. I feel like I know what he's talking about when he says New York City. I'm excited to see this new magazine and specifically to see his work in it. For more information on Gio, check out this really cool interview with him on East Village Boys. And of course I am excited to see my ginger-haired art star boy genius friend Stuart Sanford do, well, anything. I don't know what he has contributed for Try State, but I'm sure it's wonderful, it usually is. He got deported back to the UK, much like my other ginger-haired art star boy genius friend La JohnJoseph. The good ones always do, I guess.


This Saturday, the special one year anniversary issue of BIRDSONG is coming out. There will be a very special reading and performance at Stain Bar in Brooklyn, with an after party chez moi. Do come, if you're in town:

I feel inspired this morning. I had an idea. Or two.


That's why we're running away

Beat Happening - "Our Secret" (1984)


Gucci Crew II - "Sally (That Girl)" (1987)

Giving it away

I feel so totally crazy. I don't even want to talk about how crazy I feel, especially not on the internet. But I will say that when I feel crazy, I feel really sympathetic towards Lindsay Lohan. Y'know? Like, I really 'get' her, or something. And that's not helping in the whole "feeling crazy" department.

Soon, soon I get to sleep. And if you know me, you know that my bed is very important to me.

Then, I'll probably feel less crazy.
Nap time.



Last night Sister Pico and I went to go see Justin Bond perform her Rites of Spring at Joe's Pub. It is also to celebrate the release of her new EP, Pink Slip, which was recorded live at Le Poisson Rouge a few months back and I remember that show well. I sort of feel like I can't write on my blog about Justin Bond, it seems sort of too obvious and there is kind too much a lot to say. I remember listening to Justin's work when I was a high-schooler in California and it meaning something to me. Moving to NYC and seeing her perform and getting to say hello to her when I pass her on the street has been a distinct honor and privilege and definitely one of the things that let's me know how fabulous and glamoroous my life is. Again and again I keep digging up this one quote from the New York Times from like four years ago about art and artists, in which someone speaking about Kiki Smith said "great artists give other artists permission" and to the extent that I consider myself or my friends artists (I mean, we are), I see Justin Bond as a lodestone of inspiration and permission. The show at Joe's Pub was incredible. I feel like a better person for having seen it. My boy-genius and, yes, TWINK friend Dan Fishback often says, and I am inclined to agree, "Seeing Justin Bond perform is like going to Gay Church". And I need to go to church.

Here's another photo of Mxr Justin Bond, along with a lovely dame you might know called Ana Matronic of the Scissor Sisters. Standing front and center is, of course, a vintage shot of La JohnJoseph. This photo was taken by Liz Liguori and I particularly like it because it has to do with me. I was hanging out with La JJ one day when his former room mate Earl Dax invited him to come to this photo shoot. La JJ freaked out about what to wear to get her photo taken with these two NYC Icons. He decided on a red number created by thee legendary Machine Dazzle of the Dazzle Dancers. I remember I got to tease La JJ's hair and it is so much fun to be a stylist! Maybe it's only fun to be a stylist when you are working with the Most Beautiful Tranny In The World. Oh, La JJ.


Emotional Socialism

Woke up this morning humming the Misfits' 'We Are 138'. In high school all of my punk friends liked the Misfits, and I didn't. I had to sort of go along with it, cause I wanted everyone to think I was cool. There was this pretty infamous Misfits cover band from my town, I remember seeing them at 924 Gilman Street like a million times. And I mean, I liked it alright, I guess. I just didn't get it. Then in college I spent a lot of time alone in my dorm room smoking cigarettes. Now I get it.

Had a nice, busy weekend. Friday I performed at Dixon Place. A good crowd, a fun time. I was amazed at myself for having made it through the day. Spent the night in the city, romantic rendezvous. Saturday I met up with Pico and Bobo and Roy in McCarren park and ate ice cream and watched people. The play on Saturday night was even better than Friday, I thought.

After the show, took a taxi over to Glasslands to perform at Earl Dax's Judy vs Bootie party. I don't want to sound like a brat, but it's really nice to play the coolest thing happening. There's this dual vibe of, like, DiY punk kids making parties happen combined with the feeling that you actually are at the PLACE TO BE. It was a wonderful feeling. My lovely costar Cole came in the cab with me and danced and sang back-up on my song 'INTIMIDATION'. Did a fabulous job. I danced my ass off. I had two count them two vodka drinks and one small glass of red wine and I have the constitution of an infant (in more ways than one) so I was fucking wasted. Sister Pico had to practically carry me home. And by 'home' I mean the pizza place.

Sunday began on my roof, singing 'Up On The Roof', with Bobo. We talked about all the good old times we've spent up on that roof, staring at birds and thinking deep thoughts. I am so glad we rediscovered our roof access. I've had some significant moments of the last few years up there. Last summer's birthday party, especially. Drunken fags tumbling all over everything. A real highlight. I remember making out on the roof one afternoon. I remember Paps and Mickey Pussy coming over to drink 40s on the roof with me at sunset, that was nice. Bobo and I went shopping and I was exhausted. I cooked dinner, watched a Cheech and Chong movie until it bored me. I went to bed really early because I wanted to wake up at six am and go to the gym before work. As is always the case I didn't do that, I just woke up and turned back around and got into bed. No strength, no follow-through.

That's a good idea for a tattoo: NO STRENGTH. GO LIMP. I feel like flexibility is the most important thing. Resilient. I feel this morning like an emotional socialist. I want every experience to be reciprocal, general, shared and equal. I want everything all lines up and even and I want everyone to have the exact same amount of everything. I wonder if this is me wanting to control a situation. Doubtful.

Here is a morbid analogy of how I feel: I thought that when you took my skin off that I would die. I thought it would kill me, that all of my nerves would be visible, that I would die of exposure. I spent a long time trying to prove that I was dead, I told everybody I was dying, but I couldn't even die right. Can't die the right way, not die all the way. Can't just drop it and let it die, you know? Fingernails clawing out the cemetery DON'T FORGET I'M HERE and then again DON'T FORGET I'M HERE BECAUSE YOU KILLED ME, RIPPED MY SKIN OFF.

But again; I couldn't die. I would just wait for my skin to grow back, scabby and ugly all over. I was excited to be a monster for you. You know, the passive, heartbroken kind of monster that says "You Made Me This Way". Oh boo-hoo. Oh Corin Tucker singing "I'm your monster I'm just like you / I'm no monster I'm not like you".

Anyways I didn't die and it didn't make me grow tough ugly skin either. When you tried to kill me by taking off my skin it just made me slick. What didn't destroy me like a bomb has made me fast, slippery, difficult to hold down. And I can't go around trying to prove that. I just know now that there's no friction and it is scary.

Dreamed this weekend about meeting the President. He took off his glove to shake my hand and stare into my eyes meaningfully. I dreamed this dream half of the weekend.

The other half, I dreamed about Maria Callas.



A Hard Life, Baby

So much fun!

Last night was the Cockettes DVD release party for Elevator Girls in Bondage at the Bleecker St. Theater. Jiddy and Richert came with me to perform. Rumi hosted and was such a doll. My hunky co-star Joseph Keckler did an excerpt from his show Human Jukebox and there wasn't a dry seat in the house. When introducing Keckles, Rumi said "I know our next performer through my friend La JohnJoseph, who is no longer living--er, no longer with us. Who we miss very much." Which I thought was appropriate. La JJ is, in fact, dead. Which means that any time you see her out and about, that SHE'S BACK FROM THE DEAD. Trust. Other beloved familiar faces were Darlinda Just Darlinda, who did a fucking amazing Passover burlesque piece involving Nina Simone and infanticide. Trust. Glenn Marla did his new piece about 'Face Masturbation', which I think is just gorgeous. Glenn and Darlinda and I performed together the last time the Cockettes had a big NYC show, as La JohnJoseph's dance troupe. Nostalgia. It was an amazing show. Topped off by thee legendary Rose Wood. I was terrified to meet her, but she was so. fucking. nice. Isn't it always the way? I was in the bathroom and I had to pee but she was just outside the stall getting ready for her act, and I got stage fright and couldn't pee. She performed last, and did her infamous whiskey bottle number. If you don't know, I won't deprive you the complete delight of seeing her perform it.

This is a photo of our performance. Apparently my microphone was too quiet for the first half of the song but that's fine with me. I'd rather be too quiet than too loud. Cute, no?

Photo by the fantastic Lee Kyle.

I'm eating my favorite food in the world, right now. My internet is broken at home, it is beyond annoying. I'm never home during normal business hours to call TimeWarner, though. I have this insane dread and I don't know why. Everything is cool! Chill out! Maybe it's because of my dream last night.

My parents were just in town last week, we hung out a bit and had a great time. They flew home to California on Friday. In my dream, however, they decided not to fly home. They flew instead to Europe, because my mom wanted to go to Europe. And then my dad insisted that if they were going to Europe, that they would have to go to Italy, since he really wants to go there. Then after their European jaunt, in my dream, they showed up back in NYC. They were tanned, and drunk, and had handfuls of mixed foreign currency but it was all coins. And they were broke and I had to take care of them and I was so angry at my eurotrash parents because I've never even been to Europe (yet) and I didn't wanna hear their stories about it. I think I had this dream because I was watching that Piaf biopic right before bed. Probably.

Hey look at this flyer for a really cool show I'm gonna do on Saturday night: