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.