Grrrl Moments

So there's some talk in some places about riot grrrl and I could not be happier about this. As far as I'm concerned this has been entirely relevant for all of the last ten years. A big exciting new part of this moment / zeitgeist is my friend Sara Marcus' new book GIRLS TO THE FRONT which came out today and everybody should by. Very exciting.

As part of the book's promotion, they've set up a video page where there are some people's responses to riot grrrl. And hey, look who is on it!

here's another clip of me talking about riot grrrl:
Max & Dan - RG as art movement from RIOT GRRL VIDEOS on Vimeo.

TOTALLY nuts that Tavi is on it (right on!) AND ALSO SARA JAFFE omg still so starstruck. Goofy.
ANYWAY GO CHECK OUT THE OTHER VIDEOS and also please buy the book.

okay also speaking of riot grrrl, go check out THIS REALLY AMAZING RIOT GRRRL MIXTAPE OVER ON DIS MAGAZINE. It's from Ceci Moss, who is a performer and also writes a really cool blog. This mix is really great. I had heard some of these songs but others were real gems. Obviously I know and love the Flying Tigers very much and am really glad to have this song as an mp3.


SO: go check these things out please.
My STOMACH HURTS. Ugh. Hot pit.
I didn't even get to post this thing yesterday. I started working on this yesterday but then got distracted. And so now here we are on Tuesday. My Least Favorite Day for this exact reason: all the shit that didn't hit the fan on Monday, hits the fan on Tuesday. I am not feeling very good. I feel unsettled and I don't know why. So maybe it's just this typical human nature thing of always thinking something is missing, or that any pleasure or happiness or satisfaction in life is fleeting and illusory. I don't mean to be negative, I'm just trying to connect my personal funky mood to, say, the "suffering" that Siddhārtha Gautama talked about (allegedly). Maybe I need to just let it go.

But: I am so irked! That's okay.
Deep breath. Let's move on.

Working on some art for Scorcher #6. Personal voodoos. I have a title for the next issue but it's a secret, for the time being. Working on some new stories, too. Sort of taking the training wheels off of the project. The first three issues of Scorcher (#1: Our Job Is To Quit, #2: Team, and #3: Je M'Aime) were all kind of about establishing a precedent, an experiment in mapping meaning onto setting. #4: Be Billy was about the illusory nature of Billy and being a fake person and about identity construction. I think everybody understood this. I hope so. The most recent issue, #5: I Love You, You Little Crocodile, is about romance. I should say, instead of romance, that it is about heartache. I started off writing those stories with the very clear idea to do something sweet and romantic, because a friend of mine had told me that my writing was too mean, that the "Billy character" had an "aimless disdain" for the boys in his stories. So I set out to prove my friend wrong. But then halfway through writing the stories I totally crushed out on this boy who did not feel the same way about me and it super bummed me out, so the whole zine has a teary blue pallor, which I like. The new issue, #6, is going to be a bit more about psychology. An erotics of perception. As a gentle reminder: you can buy back issues of Scorcher from Birdsong Micropress. I will also have copies of the new zine on me at the readings and events I have coming up. More on those things very soon.

Such a fun (of course) weekend obviously. Thursday PLD and I went to the space where Friday night's B0DYH1GH performance would be in the LES. We hung out with Gio after soundcheck and talked with them about UFOs and life on other planets. There's clearly a lot of ground to cover here. I definitely learned a thing or two. It's always nice to get some perspective. And also? That's the nice thing about perspective: it only ever increases. Like time, moving inexorably only in one direction ever. Forever.

Anyways fast forward to Friday night. Our show was so much fun! It was a really cool event. It felt a lot like San Francisco, performing as we did in a secret location. Here's a photo of the performance, taken by good old buddy old pal Naruki Kukita:

Was viciously hungover on Saturday, it totally sabotaged my day. I did buy some cute doc marten shoes at the Patrik Ervell sample sale for the low low price of $20. But that was about all I accomplished. I had one drink with some buddies at the house at night, and passed out at 1am. Such a baby! I passed out on my living room floor while Cole and Erin watched, asking what was wrong with me. I hadn't slept on Friday night. That's what was wrong with me.

Yesterday and Sunday I've been on the monk tip. My AstroBarry horoscope said to think about this image. Like, try to find quiet comfort and relaxation in unlikely places. I think it's working.

Gosh. I mean. There's kind of a lot of things I'd like to talk about, but I think sort of just notching time and space for right now will have to suffice. Things are so strange and always have been and always will be. Trying to stay comfortable. Feeling Up. Good. Relaxing. I hope.


Like a Zebra for your Love

Prada's pretty, and got me still obsessing over the Maison Martin Margiela Avant Premiere Spring 09 leather jacket. I want it so bad.

I have under $30 until the end of the month but I am somehow thinking of this jacket as 100% necessary I can't help it. I want it, Santa. Fuck. All I need is $1300.

Anyway. Excited about B0DYH1GH's semi-secret private show tonight.
Hopefully see you there.


Angel on the Stairs

FIRST THINGS FIRST: My new band B0DYH1GH is playing a semi-secret show this Friday night in NYC, a benefit for GEMS. RSVP and more info HERE.

Here's a picture of us performing last weekend at the Phoenix:

Photo by Zan from Little Victory.

Okay. So I've been reading Kristin Hersh's awesome memoir, Rat Girl. I have to say, it's been very affecting!

As you know, Kristin and I have the same birthday, the Birthday of Secrets, so I really feel a certain sympatico with her. But this book is so intense! Wow. So much I never knew. Ever. Really. A lot about demons and stuff. You should check it out, everybody. If you haven't yet.

But speaking of devils (by which I mean magickal beings and therefore also angels) I have seen an angel and I've seen him at the gym.

He's always on the stair machine. That's all he ever does, and he does it in tiny, fifteen second spurts. Like he has an injury or something. And he does this over and over again for almost an hour.

Let me start at the beginning. When I started working part-time, I started going to the gym sometimes in the afternoon. When I was at my old job I wouldn't be able to get to the gym to work out until like 7 or 7:30 and then I wouldn't get home until 9 it really sucked so I've been really into going with my newly free time. Anyway, the first or second time I went in the middle of the day, I saw this guy there. He was so cute. Or, not so cute at all actually. He looked kind of like me. Not that I think I'm cute or anything. But I felt like, I dunno. Weird.

And the first time I saw him I really thought he was checking me out. When he came in, the gym was almost totally empty. Me and an old lady. And he came in and he really sized me up. Like stared at my face really hard while I was using the elliptical machine (what a great name, huh?). It was awkward! Just... staring at me! But I don't think that is what he was doing. Cause Every time I've seen him since, he's almost ignored me. He never checks me out.

I see him a lot, we go to the gym similar times, even when I mix it up and go at different times. What I know about him is that he is attractive, he signifies the same kind of attractive qualities I do (tall white blonde boring Kristin Hersh refers to a certain kind of person as "dishwater blonde"). He is in much better shape than I am. Which is surprising cause I only ever see him on the stair machine, and even then doing it in tiny bursts like he has a pulled muscle. But he does it forever. Once I arrived in the gym and I saw his machine said he'd been on there for 20 minutes (which is btw the time limit for using machines in the cardio room, sir). And that day I did my lil routine workout of 50 minutes. Why am I telling you this? And this doppelganger doppelbanger was on the stair machine the whole time. For, like, ever. Weird, right? I've seen him outside, leaving the gym. he doesn't change clothes when he leaves, so this means that he lives near the gym, I guess. Near bedford avenuye.

So I've been thinking, since he's not cruising me, and I'm definitely not cruising him, why do I keep running into this weird guy? I think he is a possible future version of me sent to me from the Universe. I had this happen before, once. I think that this happens sometimes. The Angel On The Stairs is this cute guy with some kind of material success if he has a nice apartment. He manages to stay in excellent shape, though he only ever does one kind of (not very... toning... exercise plan). He checked me out once then turned up his nose. He recognized me as the past version of himself younger and he has no time for memories! But he also apparently has some kind of weird injury or something. Some scar tissue. He has overcome something. Haven't we all, sister. Yikes.

This afternoon on my way to the gym I saw I got the new issue of the New Yorker. It's weird I am kind of conflicted about having a subscription. I used to subscribe to Artforum, then Cabinet, then the New Yorker, and now I'm over it, I kinda wanna switch to Vogue. French Vogue preferably (obvi) but still. I guess I'm saying that the older I get, the more distance I put between myself and college, I'm getting stupider. Whatever. Still gotta pay these horrifying loans fuck. SO today when the Angel weird dude showed up, he had the new issue of the New Yorker too. Which means he is also a subscriber. We're supposed to get it before it hits newsstands but that never happens. It's kind of a rip-off in that one way only. And this guy knows about it. Man! We need to cancel our subscriptions. So after as I left the gym I saw the guy on the stairmaster get onto the treadmill I just vacated and I think my angel from the future version of myself is telling me that everything is going to be okay.

I know: a lot of people subscribe to the new yorker and go to the gym, and you're looking for confirmation of some weird hunch for a story that's not even that interesting even when you do decide to find confirmation of this theory. And to answer that I would say: yes. So?

Also not to be like: "I love to cruise dudes at the gym" or anything. I mean, there's nothing wrong with that, but this is not what was happening. Also also not that I think "people who look like me" are also "cute" like I don't think I'm cute. I'm not my own type. I don't know if anyone is. I mean, everybody is to a greater or lesser extent. Everyone probably to the same extent. I'm going out with a really cute boy and he doesn't look at all like me but he kind of looks like this one really sexy comic book character. Different than me. In terms of "types" or whatever.

Hey speaking of queer sexy, here is the video for Long Hind Legs' song "Arranged for Viewing", which was made by Sadie Shaw:

Long Hind legs from Sadie Shaw on Vimeo.

Gawd. Right? This video is so homoerotic for some reason. I remember watching it on the Kill Rock STars compilation VHS tape on a date with my first boyfriend. I remember the Matthew Steinke stop-motion videos really freaked him out, but we both really loved the Peechees videos (kind of perfect for a gay date, CHris Applegren's dancing, no?). And this video is so gorgeous. Please watch it forever.

It's taken from Long Hind Legs' second album, Feb 4-14, 1998. Which has the most beautiful and inexplicably homoerotic cover art.

It might be the earring. Or the mouth?

I think maybe I'm just feeling amorous these days.
I can't help it.


Had a bad day! A TUESDAY. Oh well. Was going to chart and document the Various Things That Are Bugging Me, but I'd rather focus (at least for a second, in public, on here) on Things I Love. So here are some. If you come across any of these things, or have them to spare, please do think about sharing them with me.
(I could always use a blue Yoshi, or that Margiela leather jacket I want so bad it's only $1300).
as a reminder, I also generally post pictures of things I like over on my tumblr.


Our Stop

I could be demure / like girls who are soft for / boys who are fearful / of getting an earful / but I gotta rock.

Slept for 11 hours last night and still, I woke up anxious. Sat on my bedroom floor and meditated for ten minutes, which helped a lot. Didn't, you know, think of anything or accomplish anything. Spent much of the ten minutes acknowledging feelings and thoughts as they came up, hopefully putting them back down. Felt a very strong urge to continually shift my physical position, to make myself more comfortable. Which I fought, a little bit. Or, I acknowledged that I was not sitting in the most comfortable position possible, but I think that that is okay. In the new Kristin Hersh book I'm reading, she says (and is right): "Comfort isn't necessarily comfortable, after all, sometimes you gotta wander into the woods. Everybody knows that."

But it was good to kind of center myself for two reasons, today.
1) I'm going to the dentist, again. The good dentist. The cheap and good secret amazing dentist. To see about these fillings which everyone at NYU assured me I have. So I am a bit nervous, of course.

2) I rode the train this morning with Linus (not his real name). I happened to be standing next to him on the L train. I was and am continually intimidated by this guy, at least at first. He's a friend of a friend. I don't remember where I originally met him, I think at some "party" downtown. Linus works in the art world. When I was recently home in California, I spent an afternoon cruising Japanese fashion magazines at the Kinokuniya store in San Francisco's Japantown. In a Japanese men's street style magazine was a picture of Linus, snapped on the streets of NYC, with a quote from him detailing his "style tips". His tips were translated into Japanese though, so I don't know what he said. Something, I think, about denim.

Anyway. This morning on the train. He was wearing a nice-ish suit, a cute striped t shirt, fancy black leather shoes. A big chunky sweater wrapped loosely over his blazer. He looked good, well-paid. Casual, in the way that people with money often do, as if this is the thing they just threw on in the morning, but the pile of things they have to just throw on in the morning are all really expensive and nice clothes. He's shorter than I am but I felt dwarfed by him. I am wearing a black polo shirt and yellow jeans, both made by American Apparel. I bought the shirt online at a discount store and my room mate who works at AA got the pants for me as a birthday gift because she knows I like the color. I felt, all of a sudden, really sloppy. Slovenly. As a ransom to this insecurity, I kept my sunglasses on while I rode the train with him.

Linus was talking about his job, his weekend. He has the sort of high-level art world / culture job that involved clients. The kind of job where he couldn't tell me exactly what he does. I think it's because he's still figuring it out, but also perhaps because there is no real set job description. It's something glamorous. He was at a client's birthday party last night, he told me, where he saw a very famous rapper perform. Y'know, no big deal. He just started his job around the time that I started mine. So we were kind of comparing notes, but I felt embarrassed to talk about myself.

I felt, fleetingly, so jealous of Linus. He had this kind of job and lifestyle which I think is particular to New York. The art world career. Something vaguely related to the actual production of art, much more concerned with the dissemination of artistic culture. When I first moved to NYC I was desperate to get this kind of job. At a gallery or something. I could never make it happen for me. Or, when I did get cushy art world jobs, I always felt like an impostor. I could never pull off the look. I've never owned a pair of boat shoes in my life.

I think the key to the look and this lifestyle is to exude a kind of sense of... "rightness". I want to say that word instead of it's evil twin, which is entitlement. I'm not passing judgment. I just mean that I've always envied the sense certain people have of themselves where they just seem to know that they're in the right place at the right time. That they are assured of success, of understanding, of comprehension. That they "get it".

And I felt this tremendous sense of difference between us. There was this huge sense of longing I felt, talking to him about his life, envying his shoes. I felt like he and I were so, so different. Like he is part of culture and the world in a way which I could never be. For whatever reason. Maybe we come from different family backgrounds. Maybe not-- maybe he's poorer than I am but he's just more determined, more skilled, more intelligent, better connected. This is all conjecture. So I was talking to him, and just noticing these really intense feelings of shame and envy I was having. For what? Really glad I had meditated before I left the house! I was just... having the feelings. Just noticing how I felt. We said goodbye when we got to our respective stops. Then I had another memory.

I remember once, before, running into Linus at a party very late at night, and he and I took the L train home from the west village. We were both very drunk. And we didn't know each other well, at all. We still don't. We were waiting for the train for, like, forever, in silence. When all of a sudden Linus confided in me that he was super tired. I told him I was, too. The party was on a weeknight. He intimated to me, then, that he was so tired because the night before, he had gone out as well, and just been so horny when he got home, he just went home and cruised guys online. He had been up all night, fucking. Linus wasn't even telling me the sordid details of what kind of sex he was having, or even who he was having it with. It didn't seem like he wanted to relay the experiences of desire or pleasure to me. But it did seem like he wanted me to know about this side of him. And I don't even know his last name, what sign he is, what he likes to eat for dinner, where he's from. But it seems like he got off on this sort of confessional thing. Maybe he was hoping I'd have stories about hooking up with guys online too. (I didn't).

So Linus was talking about staying up until 7am having sex with strangers before getting dressed in his designer finery to run to his cushy job in Chelsea. And although that experience is so different from my own (at least these days), I felt this tremendous sense of empathy. I felt like, I knew how tired he felt, maybe. Not to say that i was projecting onto him, imagining what I could only guess his feelings about his sex life were. I mean that his confessing it to me on the subway platform, someone who he does not know, is not friends with (he doesn't think I'm cute or anything), someone he doesn't seem to want to know anything about. That confession seemed kind of sweet. I dunno. Normally I would think it was obnoxious or bragging or something, but it struck me as really honest. And I felt sort of privileged, in a way. Like, he wanted to share something with me. Something not quite vulnerable, but something which he seemed to be working through some shame about. It was striking.

And I'm glad I remembered that today. It helped me put into perspective the "distance" I thought we had between us. I think: everybody has shit they think about, they feel insecure about, they want to confess. Everybody is holding back. Everybody is trying to impress each other and repress ourselves. And everybody, in these varied projects of impression and expression and repression is epically failing. To say that there are cracks in the facade is a gross overestimation. It would be truer to say that there is no facade, there is only a beautiful lattice-work of cracks.

It would be truer to say that "forest" is a cruelly simplistic way of talking in detail about some of the most beautiful and unique trees in the world.


(There's Just More) Of You To Love


As in: LIST OF THINGS I NEED TO DO. As in: goes at the top of it.

I'm kind of freaking out, kids. I dunno why. I mean: I do, totally know why.
My student loans are coming due and I'm totally losing my shit. I am going to spend the rest of my life in debt to SallieMae. That is a sad fact. HOWEVER, I and you and everyone in the world will someday die. Everything I love will be taken away from me, I will one day get old, and sick, and my life as I know it will cease. And this is gloriously true of every single person on the planet. Which is kind of a comfort: punk rock quick-fix Buddhism. Does this make it okay not to pay my student loans? No. I want to pay them.

I am committed to paying them back. My education totally transformed my life and brought me to where I am today. While I was in college, my school was the most expensive college in the country. Possibly in the world? I got a shit-ton of financial aid, but I also had to take out a ton of loans. Which is unfortunately par for the course in the place and time I was pursuing my education. What SUCKS though, is that the school was so prohibitively expensive that I maxed out my federal loans, and took out a bunch of private loans. Federal student debt, as you may know, is a sort of okay thing. There are some exciting new pieces of legislation which make paying them back a bit easier. Private Loans, however, are evil and wrong and very bad. There are no consumer protections in place for these. If I were to get hit by a truck, and unable to work, the loan company would garnish my disability payments. If I were to die, they would go after my mom. If she died, they'd go after my brother. It's fucked up. They can never be discharged, and are so toxic that loan companies don't even offer private loan consolidation anymore, since the product they were selling (consolidation of private loans) are so risky that nobody pays them back. And I have to pay mine back, somehow.

I may or may not put a "donate" link on my blog. Is that tacky? Is it okay to be tacky?
I feel like the only way I will ever pay these back is if I win the lottery. Which is seeming like an increasingly reasonable "out".

SO ANYWAY I'M TRYING TO CHILLAX ABOUT THIS. And I came across my horoscope. I check a number of horoscope sites, but a personal favorite is the weekly PSYCHIC DREAM ASTROLOGY on the SF Bay Guardian. Here's the Leo horoscope for this week:

It's on you to handle things, Leo. You can wallow in negative expectations or step up your game! Make the decisions that allow you to move towards what make you happy, not just move away from your fears.

Pretty inspiring, and apropos as well. The horoscopes are written by the inimitable SF psychic Jessica Lanyadoo, which reminds me of one of my favorite bands in the world, THE JUDY EXPERIENCE. They have a song inspired by Jessica Lanyadoo, called "THE YADOO" which is on their first record, which you should totally buy right this fucking second. The main driving force in the band (and, I think, only super duper full-time member) is my old buddy James Brooks Caperton.

Such a dreamboat! We've known each other since we were tiny queer guppies. Since we were 15 or 16, hanging outside of 924 Gilman St., hoping to find some generous older queer who would consent to buy us booze at the liquor store up the street. Usually one of the tough dyke roadies that accompanied the girl bands into town. (I really only went to Gilman on nights when girl or queer bands played, because often times those were the only crowds that wouldn't threaten me or my friends-- though in high school James joined this legendary crust punk band, the Blottos, and I remember going to see them to support him a couple times, thinking for sure that he had really "made it" and I guess he did).

Anyway they have a new record coming out (hopefully soon!) and my original homegirl Cotton is doing the art for it, much like he did the first album. And so I have gone from freaking out to reminiscing about SF witchy groovy music. I feel happy about this transition, like summer into fall.

And I invite all of you reading this to have similar transitions, out of anxiety, into pleasure and freedom. I know that sounds hokey, and it's true-- it is hokey. But I also think it's okay to be hokey or corny or whatever.


Carrot, Honey, Oats, Apples, Saddles, Water and Cool Grass

(What are the things a horse desires? What does a horse want? What would entice it to take a long journey, with you on her back?)

Mercury is Direct! Let's all get back to work! Or not.
Had another fantastic weekend. Starting on THURSDAY, when I went to a very exxxclusive and secret sample sale for one of my favorite designers, BCALLA. I got this really cute shirt! I can't wait to wear it this friday night at my favorite NYC dance party JUDY! which will be at JUDSON CHURCH. Legendary.

I totally got to Brad's sale too early, well before he had even set it up. I like to call this "first dibs" or "private appointment" or something. HA. Anyways I really like this shirt! Special.

After the sale I got gussied up to see the lovely Joseph Keckler perform at Joe's Pub. Such a really amazing show! Very intense and polished and beautiful. I got his new CD, Featured Creatures, and got him to sign it like a nerd, and it's really beautiful. I listen to it a lot at the gym, but I also like to listen to opera at the gym. Joseph is kind of operatic. Grand-scale. Smart. Very correct. Get into it.

Speaking of pictures of me, here's a picture of me someone took at the SSION opening a few weeks ago.

I'm posting not because it's particularly cute or anything, but because it was for some reason on Solange Knowles blog! Rad! Super weird, right?

This weekend was a lot of fun. Probably too much fun.

There's a lot of things going on in my life right now, because (I think) Mercury is Direct now. I think things are getting back on track. But it's so scary! More on that later. On, I mean, the scary stuff, later. I can't tell if deferring to deal with fear is better than dealing with it. THE POINT IS: to neutralize the paralyzing fear. NOT that you can avoid fear or scary situations, or even, in my case, address the causes of fear (I am getting a filling next week and also I have crippling private student debt which will never go away). I'm just saying: acknowledge fear and don't let it kill you.







New Year's note from my mom:

Dear loved ones,
Gut Yom Tov -- Happy Birthday to this wonderful, complex world.
As it says in that old book: "How good it is for men (*and here there's a typo -- I'm sure they meant to write "for men and women and transgender populations - but you know how those nonunion printing shops were in the old days -- I mean, ultimately in life you get what you pay for on some level -- like, give these guys a living wage and decent health care and they'll have the time to proofread once in awhile -- FUCK!)... to dwell together in peace."
Have a peaceful, happy new year. Happy Rosh Hashonah



Desiree Rogers arrived at about 6:53 pm and stopped briefly to chat. Rogers said "We are very excited...everything looks great."

Robin "show off" Givhan, who is standing next to your pooler asked what everyone wanted to ask: "Are you wearing Comme Des Garçons?"

"Of course," Rogers replied.

Kanye knows what I am thinking.

Of course.



Oh hi everyone. Please stop what you're doing. I have an EXXXCLUSIVE PUBLIC SERVICE GLAMOUR ANNOUNCEMENT.


You know them and love them. Check out these latest Power Shots. These girls CLEARLY have THE LOOKS. I want to be wherever they are. More like HEAVEN SKIN GLOVE. BABY SKIN HEAVEN. It seems like, right?

Dropping the Feed Dogs
A Paulo Roversi inspired Photo Essay
Conceived & Birthed naturally by BabySkinGlove
Photographed by Dixie aka Charley Parden
Modeled by BabySkinGlove: Moan of Arc, Birthday Sex, Viva Variety, Miss Fit, $.99 Hose, & Montana Hart

get into them.
get the fuck into them.

Oh Cole

chattin with Miss Escola

Tying Ankles

Okay. Don't worry, but: Summer's over. Almost entirely.

I feel pretty good. Friday was Bobo's birthday party at her house. Lovely friends both old and new. We got groovy and sprayed ourselves with Bobo's Chanel No. 5 perfume. It was really strong. Too strong, maybe. Later, PLD and Ptrck the Witch and my friend and I went over to Erin Markey's studio. Where the magic happens, natch. We hung out with Ms. Markey and the Irish Horse on the roof of her studio, sharing memories and eating chips and salsa. Eventually, we went over to our Ben Rimalower's house for nightcaps with the ladies Rim and Miss Escola. It was lovely of course and it got quite late, not surprisingly, so I had to head home. On my way out I heard that PLD and Ben made some kind of fancy macaroni and cheese but was too exhausted to find out. I think it involved asparagus. Such genius strikes us (by "us" I mean Ben) in these small morning hours. How nice.

Saturday I went to the gym, and came home and cooked this huge amount of kale I bought earlier in the week. It was a really nice laid-back day. And then I went to go see Ann Liv Young's "Cinderella" at Issue Project Room. The show co-stars Sherry, who has been getting quite a bit of well-deserved press lately. Ann Liv Young is doing very exciting work in New York City. Really wild and experimental and, I think, very brave and generous. She is the real deal. I don't really want to get into the show or my feelings about it because I'm working on a tentative interview regarding it. Suffice it to say that I was deeply affected and inspired by what happened on Saturday night. It was a kind of performance which I feel like people don't often get to see. Very rarely. There was absolutely no way for anybody in the room that night to have predicted what would happen. I think we all knew that. And yet, for many of us in the crowd that night, we had to confront our own expectations. It was intense. It definitely stayed with me. I had very intense dreams the night of the performance, about finally having an unpleasant confrontation with someone. There had been someone in my life who I had really been wanting to "tell off" but had been really repressing my anger. And in the dream, I just told the person how I felt, and it felt really good to get it off of my chest. And I think a big part of this dream was seeing "Cinderella". It was really great. I think. It is great art. That's that.

Sunday I dragged PLD and Ptrck shopping with me in chelsea but we only bought cologne. I got CdG's "Garage", it smells both really clean and really dirty. We went to the BBQ at the Metropolitan. Ms. Jennifer Gross showed up, alongside Miss Joey Kipp (who I had seen dancing in Ann Liv's show the night before, she did a really fantastic job!).

So cute!

Jenna used her extra BBQ tickets to get me and PLD seconds on our veggieburgers! Which was really sweet. I meant to go out on Sunday night since I didn't have to work on Monday, but I was sooo tired I went home and my afternoon nap turned into me being asleep for the night. Oops.

Yesterday I got a copy of Vogue and went to central park to read it. I txted PLD to see what he was up to, and he was in the park as well! Synchronicity. I went to Brooklyn and went record shopping, and I have this thing where like, I really can't be spending money on records, cause I'm broke. BUT I decided I could spend $10 because I've been very flush with cash this week. I also have this thing where like, when I find something really amazing at the record store, I feel like the Universe is putting certain things in my path for a reason. That being said, I was really thrilled Crowsdell's End of Summer EP on vinyl for $3

Obviously I'm a total Shannon Wright junkie, and I totally adore Crowsdell. It seems really retro. NOT because it's sort of country-music inspired. But it seems retro because it's so indie rock inspired. In an interview, Shannon Wright talks about how once Malkmus started producing their work they got a lot of resentment, within the "scene". Gawd. Remember when it was okay to talk about "the scene" in verbal and concrete terms? Innaresting. Anyway this record was the first Crowsdell record I ever heard, and I love it. Somehow perfectly encapsulates the "end of summer" feeling.

But I don't exactly feel sad, or anything. I feel like I had an accomplished summer. To be clear, I didn't actually accomplish anything this summer. But I kind of held myself together, which I'm happy about. Last summer I was performing at museums and going to Europe, etc. This summer, I guess, I performed at a museum. But I think maybe the trade-off has been made (one I do not regret) between "excitement" and "calamity". As in, less of one for less of another. I dunno if I feel like always making that trade.

Lately, anyway, I have some cool things to work on. I guess.
Feeling pretty optimistic and nice.

Listening to Nikki and the Corvettes, hanging out in my air conditioning bedroom with the shades down. Doing stretches and drinking coffee and waiting for the gym to open up (it's "Teen Hour" until 5:30pm) and then I have to go grocery shopping to find something to make for dinner. And then I guess I dunno what I'm going to do. Read, a lot. Maybe work on some writing projects.

I really love this record though. Always gets me, you know.