GOD. Jean Smith is and always has been such a genius. I was cleaning my room and listening to "Water Cuts My Hands" and thinking about how it's the perfect thing to listen to after this Hurricane Irene weekend of anxiety and guilt for being anxious. I'm glad everybody (almost everybody) is okay (almost okay). I did stay indoors and feel pretty stressed out. I am glad it's all over. I have tomorrow off of work. The trains aren't running. So I am planning on being productive! As productive as I can be. Then I have DANCE rehearsal for this new play I'm in. The weather right now is the beginning of autumn and it's so great. Kids are running around in the street, teenagers, boys and girls screaming at each other playing around. Or whatever.

Anyway. Jean Smith's work makes me feel really smart, and present and brave and excited. And I'm not the only one. Here's a little video of Nikki McClure talking about Mecca Normal:

And here's an interview with Miss Jean Smith herself:

And finally the point of the weekend, I guess, was to put this video in my path, my fate. Check out this awesome spoken video piece by Jean Smith, titled READING WRITING. A RHYTMIC TRICK.:

Brilliant, right? I also love that there are a bunch of apples on the drum behind her.


Every Night With My Famous Friends

I guess when I am in a really bad mood, I feel totally cut off and distinct from everybody else. So I can also use the inverse to prove the opposite. It might be a ‘chicken versus their own egg’ situation (filial piety vis-à-vis cannibalism). I can’t tell if I am super psyched because my friends are awesome, or if my feeling awesome is enabling me to celebrate my amazing friends. Anyway who cares enough about me.

Not to brag/just to brag, but I am only friends with the most amazing and coolest kids in the world and two of them have these cool things you should check out.

First, it’s no secret that one of the great loves of my life is La JohnJoseph. And furthermore, my favorite singer in the world is the international disco sensation ALEXANDER. You can see a cute interview between Alexander and Billy Cheer on the Pussy Faggot site. But tonight, in Berlin, new issues of the glossy gay weekly Siegessäule are being put all over the city, and Alexander is on the cover.

Sexy, no? Alexander wears a Miu Miu tie, Mads Norgaard shirt and Dolce & Gabanna pants.

There’s also of course a very sexy interview in German in the magazine. I am so tickled that right now, all over Berlin, people are going to be walking around and seeing JJ’s face. It makes me very happy.

Next, my love for Jess Paps is well documented. We have, for one thing, the same birthday. I wrote a lil post about how cool she is a while back. I’m just saying I was an early adopter! I wanna be the Vice President of the Paps fanclub! The presidency should probably go to Queen Tommy Pico, her biggest booster.

SIDENOTE: I remember the first show Jess Paps ever played, when we were seniors in college. It was so magickal. She gave a tiny sneak-preview performance in my friend’s dorm room the night before, too. But at the real show she sat on a chair and played acoustic guitar and sang these really fantastic songs and everyone loved it. And we still do.

And we’re not the only ones! Miss Paps has just started a new band called HEAVENS GATE. I saw them play earlier this month and they were fucking great. There are some references I could make to other bands or artists to give you a sense of what they’re like, but I feel like the HEAVENS GATE sound is really new and exciting. Luckily for the whole world, Pitchfork Media has featured HEAVENS GATE’s first single, “Salome” on their site. CHECK IT OUT!

Ok I feel good. Even with the Hurricane coming.


Sleepless in the Nothing

Last night after work I went home and instead of going to the gym, I took a long walk from my house in East Williamsburg over the bridge to Manhattan. I got some dumplings in Chinatown for dinner, and walked up to 14th Street to catch the subway home. It was such a beautiful day, and I wanted to have some more sunshine since Summer is almost over. I felt really quiet and meditative. I didn’t even listen to any music or anything, the whole time.

I want to blame Mercury Retrograde, duh, but I can’t. I’ve just been feeling kind of shitty lately. Maybe not even bad, just sort of blank.

Sleeping in the Nothing as it were. I really loved Kelly Osbourne's first album, Shut Up, and had some of my first and formative sexual experiences while listening to it. (I'm that young - it's that old). her second album, though, I never really got into. I liked the single, "One Word" of course. It totally got panned, which is something I usually like but I never gave it a shot. My buddy Cotton in San Francisco is convinced that this record was an attempt to seduce a gay audience. It's apparently a disco record and also the Golden Gate bridge is inexplicably on the cover. For some reason. It's a shame that gay people couldn't rally around Kelly the way we have rallied around other people.

Gay people have such a fucked-up sense of generosity, because we're so continually told that we don't deserve anything. So to give to someone else is a real chore for us. It's a total task.

But sometimes you have to do chores. Tasks. Like, Yvonne Rainer's legendary/iconic/boring/long Trio A. Where you make a dance out of everyday motions. Like turning tasks into art. That's nice. Gay people should do this. Maybe this is what turned Yvonne Rainer gay. (You don't turn gay you just are).

Anyway last night was great, at dusk. I sound like such a creep, but I was really into the late-summer good moods everyone was having. NYC is so great because it throws you directly into everybody else. I mean, "everybody else" being "the people who live here, too" which sometimes can seem pretty shitty. But last night it was great. I kept overhearing snippets of people's conversations. So many glamorous people eating at tables on the sidewalk. Breadsticks and cloth napkins and sunglasses and polos and tans and water with ice cubes. Talking about what they had each been doing that day, and what they were going to do next. And then a bus would drive by and spray them with black smoke. I love New York City. It's so expensive to eat out, only the very rich can do it.

I was really conscious, for some reason, of how shitty I looked. When i got home from work, I changed my shirt. I was wearing these really old black Cheap Monday jeans which were at one point quite tight, but the elastic has worn out and now they're kind of baggy. And this brown t-shirt that a girlfriend gave to me, after having knicked it off a lover she'd rather not remember. (But then I'd wear it, this old comfortable brown shirt, and it would probably remind her of him). But then I got to the Williamsburg Bridge at dusk as the sun was setting and I saw a patch of sparkle on my shirt I didn't realize that I had also worn the shirt on Saturday, the night after my performance at Southpaw, and I had used this shirt to wipe off the silver eyeliner I had worn onstage for the show. It was weird. I felt kind of gross. Like sort of ragged, maybe.

So obsessed with this bag. I wish I had gotten it together to get one, but I think they're making them for men, for the Spring, in black. Which sounds nicer, I guess. I like the orange color, though. But then by next spring that orange might not even matter. Colors come and go in and out of style so you have to make sure that you are wearing the right ones. Or I guess holding them. Kinda into something being "played-out," though, because I feel like in many ways that is what I am: played-out. That bag though, is so cute. So simple and mean, in a way.

So, okay. Wearing a lame outfit and feeling gross and dirty and ragged and bad-looking. But totally grooving on the mind/body/spirit of NYC. In that mood where everyone is beautiful, where I am seeing the majesty in everyone's walk. I was so overwhelmed by the constant contact with people that I realized I was avoiding actually looking into anyone's face. Finally, making my way through the East Village, I made a conscious decision to stare everybody right in the eyes, for like, a second. To just make eye contact with every single person I passed.

Now, two things about this:

A) I remember hearing or reading somewhere that Madonna did this, also, in the East Village. In the 1980s when everything happened. But I think she did it with the idea that, like, she wanted everybody to remember seeing her, because she knew she was going to be really famous one day. She seemed like she wanted to connect with people to intimidate them somehow. Force herself into their faces. I did NOT do it like that, I did it because I honestly wanted to see people. Maybe to see if there was anyone I recognized or something?

B) This is also sort of an exercise in the law of diminishing returns, because I have really terrible eyesight, so I was "looking" but not necessarily "seeing" everybody, in the face, exactly.

And anyway the exercise came to as abrupt of an end as it did a start, because as soon as I looked up, I saw this guy I used to think was cute and I felt like a total slob and really gross. We said hey hi how're you how's it going and kept walking. I thought 'Do I have my earphones in? That would be such a good excuse for not stopping to say hi.' I did not. We passed each other and I felt myself blushing, and then I ran into another guy I used to know, one who in fact dumped me a very long time ago. It took us a second to recognize each other and then we said hi and did not stop either.

My next thought was to get a popsicle but then I decided to wait until I got home. I took the train home and I got a pineapple popsicle, but then I was suddenly too sleepy to eat it.

I've always loved this video and this song. I feel like it's really apt, for me, lately. I don't know. I think Lily Allen is cool. I just got back from rehearsal for this play I am going to be in. Joseph Keckler is in the play and at rehearsal tonight, which was at this really huge fantastic Off-Broadway theater, he was wearing these really cute sparkly silver and black Dolce & Gabanna sneakers. I could never pull something like that off but they were really good.

Ok I have a popsicle to attend to.


Even Like Picasso

I used to be totally obsessed with reading my horoscope every single day. Usually I would read a number of different horoscopes to try to pick up a theme or something. I usually check (in no particular order): AstroDientist, Jonathan Cainer, Jessica Lanyadoo, AstroBarry, Susan Miller and Rob Breszny. Some kind of composite, or something. But I've been kind of not really paying attention to my destiny the last couple of weeks. I think this is because of Mercury Retrograde. I feel like, anything that I am meant to know, I will know. I don't need to go projecting my own subconscious agenda on the stars, people I see on the train, etc.

Feeling bummed out all week! I don't really know why. It's felt really important to me to chill out at home, and not really have a ton of human contact. I know that sounds creepy. Sometimes it really cheers me up to connect with other people. And other times, like this week for example, I really need to just honor the impulse to veg out. I can't. I can't be nice. I can't be productive. I can't be a good listener. I can't be funny. I can't do it! It's a place called/Won't be there. At least for the last couple of days. I think I'm feeling better, just in time for the weekend.

I am singing on Saturday (REMINDER). Which usually puts me in a good mood. Actually, it stresses me out, then I do it and I am in a good mood, and then maybe afterward I get bummed out again. The French have a word for this ('Remorse'). The French think they have everything but really everybody has it too. I like this attitude that Greek people have (just to generalize for a second) about how everything good is originally stolen from them. They're right about it, too.

Last night I watched Mars Attacks! and there're such great faces in that movie. I sort of really adore Tim Burton. But I have this nagging suspicion that maybe I shouldn't. Is he an asshole? Maybe I'm letting my bad mood affect me. Maybe he's totally fine.

I think sometimes I want there to be something sinister or untoward in anything I like or admire, because then I feel like I have to consciously decide to admire or like something.

I want to destroy reflexivity, I think. I want to replace the habitual. I want constant interrogation. Not even. I want what happens on both sides of the TV screen to be the same. I guess what I really want is to neutralize, dissolve the gaze. And the way I want to do this is by making everything equal. Equally special. Nothing can be reflexive. Everything is always new, and perfect, and a surprise.

Having no desire to be a baby again, and yet, of course, I want to see everything as new. Wouldn't it be great to be able to hold onto this sense of wonder and excitement? I think the way to maintain that is to replace the habitual, the unconscious, the reflexive with: the conscious, the open-hearted, the listening parts of ourselves. I know I sound totally woo-woo, but I mean it.

I don't know why, but I am totally fixated on the bed sheets we used to have when I was a kid. It was a print of this Picasso drawing. A line drawing of a hand holding a bouquet of flowers. I don't even like Picasso.

I mean, really.


Happy 35th Birthday, Madonna

Last Saturday was a full moon.

And I got myself this adorable shirt from the BLACK CdG Store after ogling it forever.

I guess I didn't really learn anything. I did feel pretty crazy. I think I am on the precipice, as always, of some kind of new knowledge. I find myself sometimes just really wishing that something would happen to me to change everything. Like maybe I'll find a sack full of money, or get arrested or something. "Lottery or car crash / or you join a cult".

When we took the photo for Earl Dax' profile in the NY Times, Glenn Marla was talking about how excited he was to turn 27, quoting Penny Arcade, who once said that nothing happened to her before she was 27, and Glenn was excited that his life would start. Penny said that it wasn't that 27 was so great necessarily, it was just that nothing happened to her before she was 27. She hadn't been waiting for something to happen, but it was just that nothing happened and when things did start happening she was 27. I wonder how long I'll live.

Well, so, I'm 27 now. And I guess I'm ready for things to start happening to me. I catch myself in this thought, though, waiting and wishing for something to come along and change me, alter my life-course. That, friends, is theistic thinking. That is the assumption that someone or something is, ultimately, responsible for my life. Right? Like, I don't need to do anything because sooner or later something will happen and I'll just deal with that when it happens. I wonder how old I'll be before things really start happening to me! Fighting the Bad Mood Bus. A Case of the Tuesdays, I guess. I wanna be responsible for my own life. I can't imagine what I'd like to have happen to me. I guess we'll see.

This weekend was super fun. I played a really great show with B0DYH1GH. Some people came! It was actually maybe the best we've ever sounded, outside of the show we did at SPANK so many months ago. Perfect Little Daniel and I are going to put out a mixtape as a way of getting some of our fantastic songs out into the world, along with songs we love. Is that illegal? Moreover, is it okay to be illegal? I think so.

Unrelated: I am performing a couple songs this Saturday night at QuORUM Queer House Field Day Afterparty at Southpaw. It's gonna be big and fun. CHECK IT OUT.


Rat Girl and Pizza Scissors

I woke up to about 100 Facebook "Happy Birthday" messages, and texts and tweets and all these sweet things. I know that sometimes we're prompted by our social media to connect with each other on our birthdays, but honestly, for a Leo, there is no better birthday present than feeling like the center of attention.

But really, I am so happy and glad to be alive and to be 27 years old on this planet. I am so happy to be surrounded by people I love, and to be have my health and my sanity and a place in the world. I feel so grateful to everyone I know. The last year has been incredible for so many reasons. I dunno. I woke up this morning feeling good. And now I'm celebrating bein alive by... bein alive.


Something very Special is Happening

Tomorrow night I am celebrating my 27th Birthday and I am performing at my favorite dance party in the world, JUDY!

Come join JUDY in her ancestral home of THE HOSE where she will help you explore THE CAVE OF FORGOTTEN QUEER DREAMS. Don’t be scared- Judy will hold your hand as we go spelunking through the sparkling sedimentary layers of homo history. Bring a headlamp and brace yourself for BATTY performances by: JUNE FAGLEY, MAX STEELE and GEO WYETH.


This is the afterparty for the Pop-up Museum of Queer History, so before you tunnel over to Judy, come to the opening! (https://www.facebook.com/e​vent.php?eid=1786562721996​48)

Saturday August 6th 10-4
Free B4 11, $5 After
White Noise 225 Ave B. Between 13th and 14th
Get there early or real late if you don’t want to wait to get in!

JUDY began at the HOSE many years ago, so to be able to be back in the original home is such a treat. Ever since the party began, I have been obsessed with trying to perform there. And I have been bugging the hosts about it for years. So I am particularly thrilled to be asked on the eve of my BDAY. I am turning 27 (into Amy Winehouse). And I hope that if you are in NYC you will join me.



at least, not right now.

O Mercury

I've had just about enough bad news, guys. Mercury is Retrograde and pretty much all of the moving parts I thought I had moving have... stopped. Or moved backward. Nice! I ordered a iphone as a birthday present, but it's not coming. Many plans falling through. Things breaking. Me losing my mind. Pissing everybody off. I feel like I am dealing with a lot of rejection. I think maybe I am dealing with a lot of abjection. Nitsuh Abebe's brilliant piece on Amy Winehouse refers to "masochism posing as bravery" along with "real bravery", both to be found in Amy's work. Well, okay: how can you tell the difference? I mean, what's being brave and what's being bull-headed?

Like when is something actual courage and when is it you being a glutton for punishment? This is an unfair distinction. Maybe accusing someone of "masochism posing as bravery" is fucked up. It seems insensitive. I'm in a bad mood. Yesterday's mood was much worse, though.

It's this chicken or the egg thing of feeling bad. Like, when I am in a serious funk, I feel like nobody wants to be around me, and it freaks everyone out. But is that a cause or a symptom? Maybe I learned to judge my feelings this way when I was a kid, because I got picked on a lot in school and on the street for being a flamer.

But then I think: maybe I only got so much shit when I was a kid, because the bullies at school (most of whom were closeted or otherwise unhappy) could detect my insecurity. Maybe they picked on me because they could tell I was weak. Maybe they picked on me because I deserved it. It's a bit backwards, I guess. Probably the reason I feel like I deserved it is because I got so much of it, back then. Like, if you just go on how people treat you as a way to determine your worth (which I think we all do to an extent) then you feel really shitty.

Okay. My mood is looking up, a little bit. I'm celebrating my birthday by doing a very special show at JUDY, my favorite dance party in NYC. I was thinking about throwing a birthday party, but decided not to because I was afraid that no one would want to come, because nobody wants to be my friend. But then I got asked to do this JUDY show, which feels like a gift from the Universe on my birthday. So I am going to try to stay feeling good about that. Next post for details!



Two weeks ago, I performed at TOTAL STYRENE a benefit for Lizzie Scott's amazing project, The Styrene Fantastic. Here's a description of the project:
The project aims to create a small temporary space for creative generosity and intellectual abundance in resistance to the commercial and institutional models of competition and scarcity that define current art worlds. It celebrates the alchemy of turning toxic Styrofoam trash into a source of artistic abundance.
I was really excited to be part of the event, and I made a new piece for it. The other artists (Kennis Hawkins, Michael Mahalchick, Rashaun Mitchell, and Lizzie Scott) were so fantastic, and I am duly grateful to curator Patricia Milder for including me. The event was videotaped, and I certainly hope that the footage will be put online soon. In the meantime, I'm sharing the script for the piece I made "TEACH FRANKENSTEIN TO DANCE".

I was thinking a lot about how to interact with the project and the space. Specifically, thinking a great deal about styrofoam. What are some things that we associate with styrofoam? To my mind, styrofoam is:

- Man-made
- Toxic
- Protective
- Ubiquitous
- White/blank
- Non-biodegradable

And so I was thinking about what other things also have these qualities. Part of the project of the show, it seemed to me, was about the gesture of seeing styrofoam as a source of plenty and ripe for art-making. I was interested in this gesture and how to do it and what it means and so I guess I sort of applied it backwards. I was thinking a lot about how people could be styrofoam, something like a person or a personality could have these same qualities. One of the things which I felt like exhibited these qualities is, for example, Beyoncé. And also, I was interested in discomfort. In exhibiting and making peace with something which you do not entirely believe. For example, styrofoam can both simultaneously be art and also be toxic waste. They can both be true. A person can be art and also toxic; you can make that projection (a person = styrofoam) and also act like you're not making that projection. Beyoncé can be meaningless and at the same time be rife with multiple, complex meanings.

The crowd was pretty responsive, I think it went well. I was really nervous because my Lynn Hirschberg was there in the front row. He had written a really dumb article about how pretentious I am and how bad the art I make is. So in a sort of perverse way I was actually really happy to exhibit deliberately bad art in front of him, to fail spectacularly (or at least have the appearance of doing so, for a few minutes). I think he liked the show, then he didn't like it, but I think he liked it again by the end. Y'know what? That's irrelevant. I liked the piece. So here it is:


(Billy enters, wearing white pants, white sneakers, a white t-shirt, golden faux-snakeskin Comme des Garçons Homme Plus belt with bright pink crystal, and a white-blonde wig. He is eating a rice cake.)

Thank you, hello. I don’t know everyone here. I think I know a few of you. Some of you are new faces. Some of you have familiar faces, but I don't know you. Maybe we met in a past life.


I don’t know if I’m supposed to talk about it or not, or if it’s supposed to be a secret... Because no one’s said anything about it so far tonight, but I’ll just, I mean, SPOILER ALERT. I'll just say it. I think it's really rad that everyone involved with the exhibition, tonight, the other artists, and the organizers all happen to be from California. I think that's great. And, you know, they take recycling really, really seriously out there in Cali. Like it’s a total civic duty. They teach it to kids. You do it because you have to.

And I feel like in other places, like maybe in New York, it’s different. Like maybe not everybody recycles. Almost everybody. Maybe everybody here. Probably. I know we all want to, everyone here-- you all look like you want to recycle but maybe we sometimes forget. You know? I’m not judging.


You guys.


Anyway I feel like: we’re all on the same page, I don’t need to explain to anyone here tonight what recycling is or why it’s important or whatever. But you know, the big thing about recycling is not just about reducing waste but also about reuse. Like, the whole point of it is to find new uses for things, to waste less. And I feel like I sort of missed that until really recently. Like, finding new uses for stuff. I think that’s great. Because, y’know, in California you just do it because you have to and you don’t really think about it.

I’m SORRY! I am super distracted.

(Speaking just away from the microphone, addressing someone in the front row) Who ARE you? You are so fucking adorable. You. Yes. What is your name? Wait, what? Okay. I am doing a show right now but will you be here later? Will you, like, stick around for a minute after the show? Okay. Cool.

(speaking back in the mic, addressing the crowd) Hi. Sorry. Where was I? Okay. DID. YOU. KNOW. THAT: The average North American human, over the course of their lifetime, ingests between 15 and 20 POUNDS of Styrofoam. That is a lot. Think about it.

(takes another bite of the rice cake he is holding) And it doesn’t, like, biodegrade or anything. I mean, I guess the idea is that you shit most of it out, like you eat it in really small parts , like maybe when you walk by a construction site, or maybe some gets into your mouth while yr asleep, or maybe it gets sneaked into your head through the TV or the radio. But we all have some percentage of this 15 to 20 pounds of Styrofoam in us at any given moment.

So I guess, um, I would want to revise my earlier statement, and say that probably closer to 100% of the people in this room are recycling. Right now.

(A song plays, "Hi" by J. Dilla. During the song, Billy turns around and takes off his shirt. He wraps himself in a gauzy white garment and a white ladies blazer. He methodically ties blonde hair weaves around his head, in layers, cloaking his face. He puts on a pair of sunglasses while the song plays. Another song comes on, "Run the World (Girls)" by Beyoncé. Billy sings along to the song, forgetting words, which Beyoncé sings for him. He also sings different words which you will be able to delineate by the parenthesis).

Girls, we run this motha (yeah!) x4

Who run the world? Girls! x4
Who run this motha? Girls! x4
Who run the world? Girls! x4

Some of them men think they freak this like we do (EVERYBODY WANTS TO BE THE SAME BUT REALLY)
But no they don't
Make your cheque come at they neck, (IF EVERYONE WAS THE SAME)
Disrespect us no they won't

Boy don't even try to touch this (I CAN’T TELL THE DIFFERENCE)
Boy this beat is crazy (I THINK I’M GOING CRAZY)
This is how they made me (I DON’T KNOW WHEN IT STARTED)
Houston Texas baby (I DON’T KNOW WHERE I AM)

This goes out to all my girls (I HAVE AMNESIA AND I CAN’T)
That's in the club rocking the latest (FEEL MY FINGERS OR MY TOES)
Who will buy it for themselves (ONLY WHAT I PUT INSIDE MYSELF)
and get more money later (IS ALL MY BODY KNOWS)

I think I need a barber
None of these bitches can fade me
I'm so good with this (I’M NOT GOOD AT THIS)
I remind you I'm so hood with this (NOTHING IS EASY)

Boy I'm just playing,
Come here baby
Hope you still like me,
Fuck you, pay me.

can build a nation (I DON’T KNOW IF I AM DREAMING OR NOT)
With our love we can devour (I REALIZE)
You'll do anything for me (IT IS THE JINGLE FROM A COMMERCIAL)

Who run the world? Girls! x4
Who run this motha? Girls! x4
Who run the world? Girls! x4

It's hot up in here
DJ don't be scared to run this, run this back
I'm repping for the girls who taking over the world
Have me raise a glass for the college grads (pulls another rice cake from the pocket of the white jacket and raises it like for a toast)

Anyone rolling I'll let you know what time it is
You can't hold me
I broke my 9 to 5 and copped my cheque.

This goes out to all the women getting it in (THIS GOES OUT TO ANYONE WHO'S)
Get on your grind (EVER HAD A DREAM BEFORE)
To the other men that respect what I do (AND WALKING DOWN THE STREET ONE DAY)
Please accept my shine (YOU SEE IT FOR SALE IN A STORE)

Boy I know you love it (I USED TO BE ALLERGIC TO IT)
How we're smart enough to make these millions (NOW I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT IT)
Strong enough to bear the children (I TAKE MY MEDICATION)
Then get back to business

See, you better not play me (AND IT STILL HURTS ME)
Don't come here baby (PLEASE BELIEVE ME)
Hope you still like me
Fuck you, pay me.

My persuasion can build a nation (I’VE WRAPPED MY MIND IN STYROFOAM)
With our love we can devour (FROM ONE LIFE TO THE NEXT)

(speaking over the music)
Who run the world? Girls! [x4] (WE’ARE ALL LIKE MARY SHELLEY)

Who are we? What do we run? We run the world! (AND I KNOW IT’S SCARY, TO TEACH FRANKENSTEIN TO DANCE, TO BE ART)
Who are we? What we run? We run the world. (I’M HERE TO TELL YOU THAT IT’S OKAY TO BE SCARED.)

Who run the world? (IT’S OKAY TO BE SCARED)