Petit Poulet

Spent the last week at home in California for the Holidays.

It was gorgeous. Surreal and familiar.

I had a good trip. At once both relaxing and not relaxing. I always think that when I go home to California that it will be like a vacation, but it's not. Not really. I guess when I would go home during breaks in college I would stay for usually a month, at least. That was more of a vacation. I was there for a week, but you have to figure a day on either end for traveling, so, five days.

Every time I go to CA I have this awful thing of trying to figure out who it's realistic for me to visit with, and I have to make pretty elaborate plans, because I don't have much time, or free time, to hang out while I'm here. I kind of try to stagger who I get to see and when and it always sucks because inevitably I end up feeling like I can't be as good of a friend to everyone all the time forever simultaneously, as well as spend time with my family (who flew me out there). It's hard. It's a struggle. I feel bad. Anyway I did get to see some of my friends this trip. Including the lovely and talented Danielle Conover aka Arizona aka Betsy Heavens aka Princess Christmas. Who I haven't seen in a long time.

Remember how she made this COOKIE PILL video I was so obsessed with?

We went to El Farolito and got really good Mission burritos and horchata and it made me very happy. I haven't had good Mission burritos in so long! She’s getting ready to go to Thailand with her partner Dan in their fantastic clown therapy program CLOWN ZERO. We used to be in a band together called BANG! BANG! INDIANS!, a kind of High Gothic Country Band. I remember that everyone in the band had nicknames, and she was Betsy Heavens, the lead singer. I don't remember what my nickname was! I think probably Billy. We had a lovely viola player named Candy Corn, and we added a keyboardist named the Duchess at one point, who was maybe my favorite person ever (she played keyboards and screamed throughout our set, it was really cool). I miss Danielle! It was so good to catch up. The holidays are weird.

I hung out a little bit with my original homegirl Cotton, who's begun singing in a new band called Alabaster Choad. They're really good. They're kind of like a noise-band, but really 70s, prog-rock-y, melodic and smart. It's hard to describe, in a way that things that are new are hard to describe. Here's a video of Alabaster Choad performing "Suck A Cop's Cock" and "Crushed By Crap":

I went to their band practice on Tuesday night. They’re playing a show on New Year’s Eve, and I really wish I could go. Seeing them practice was great, though. I’ve known Cotton for eleven years, and always admired her work. She’s definitely been a hugely inspiring force in my life and has turned me on to so many things I’ve later come to love: the Upsetters (Blackboard Jungle might be my favorite record of all time?), Sun Ra, etc. She’s really into classic Soul and R&B, though, lately, and has the best record collection, so I always love listening to records when I go to her house.

After the band practice we hoofed over to Aunt Charlie's for the High Fantasy party. Such cute boys! Such great drag performances! I feel like drag kind of sucks sometimes, and so I avoid going out to see it. Nothing against RuPaul or her Drag Race at all, but, I think that sometimes really high-gloss drag reminds me why I became interested in punk subculture. i feel like the handful of times in the last couple years when I've seen sort of under-the-radar or otherwise somehow fishier drag in San Francisco, it's been really inspiring. Myles Cooper and Alex Penney have a really good party, and the vibe is cute.

And crowded! So many boys! And girls! And betweenness and beyonders! A highlight of the night was seeing a motley crue of fagots dancing increasingly crazier in the middle of the dance floor, regardless of the song/genre, throwing their hands up in what I do hope was chemical ecstasy. There was, like, a fashion-y one in billowing fake work shirts, a punk boy, a sort of goth burning mannish kid with headwraps and long tie dyed caftans. Boys with big chain necklaces and huge silver hoops (through one ear). Bejewelled baseball caps and fingernails to match. It made me happy to see everyone joyous.

And last call is at 2:00am! Which seems, you know, so provincial. Cotton and I cut up with the girls afterward for a while and had a great time.

This flight was long, I made my second connection but only barely. I'm exhausted. I feel excited to be back in New York.

Thinking a lot about what my end of the year looks like. For next time.
I still need to exactly figure out what I'm gonna do tomorrow night!

I feel like I might be getting a cold but I still want to go out and party and I am going to!



Reading this Gertrude Stein book about war, called Wars I Have Seen. It's about growing up during war(s). It’s so weird to think that many young people in America think of ourselves as not, really, having grown up during wartime. Because it wasn’t a war over here. It sort of was, though. Maybe growing up not during a wartime is the same as growing up during wartime, because there's always war somewhere. That's not really true.

Makes me think about this song, "War" by Charming Hostess. I've always loved this song, and I don't necessarily dig a capella music as such.

Do you know this band? They're really rad.

I've been having really deep conversations with my friends lately, you guys. It's weird, maybe it's not new. Maybe I’m just paying attention more than usual. I remember a couple of weeks ago feeling really distinctly that I could not connect with other people. Maybe I just need to pay more attention (I think that’s probably part of how to connect with other people). I don’t know, it feels good to listen.

An image from Robert Bittenbender’s MFA thesis show at Cooper Union, which I went to last week. Really beautiful images. This is maybe my favorite. It makes me think about haircuts.

Sometimes when I type the word ‘haircut,’ I accidentally type ‘haircute.’

Colin’s darling charming room-mate Ruth made him a cake in the shape of his favorite food, Chinese Chicken Salad. The cake really, really looked like Chinese Chicken Salad. Does that sound gross? It wasn’t! It was delicious. I ate it with my fingers. I don’t know if we were supposed to be doing that, but I saw Lauren D. do it and I figured if I did it right after she did, then nobody would yell at me/get me in trouble because then they’d be getting her in troubs too. So, you know. No one would ever do that.

Friday we went to an xmas party at Gio and Neil's house on the LES. So many familiar (and new) queer faces. They made this punch, and it had booze in it. No drugs or roofies or anything weird. Probably a lot of juice and gin. But so anyways I was drinking it, and then thinking "Why do I do this to myself? Drink the punch? Why not just make my own drink, like a grown-up, where I can decide how much and what kind I want to drink?" But I like to be part of the communal experience. The punch was great don't get me wrong. I'm just saying it was strong. Strong punch which I had two and a half glasses of. I wasn't even thirsty! I was just waiting for the bathroom and the bathroom line was by the punch bowl. When in Rome. Never been there.

I wish this photo weren’t so blurry, for a couple of reasons. One, this is a photo of Claire who momentarily stole Gio’s hat at the party and was running around doing an impression of him. Except it was kind of a weird impression because she has one of those accents (Australian) which makes everything sound totally insane to me. Insane and charming, but yes. The main reason I wish this photo weren’t so blurry is because it’s a photo of the decoration Gio and Neil put up for their Xmas party: they covered the walls with gold foil, then used black electrical tape to make an inverted cross. Merry Christmas! Hail Satan!

We talked a lot about aliens that night, but not enough! I could go on forever. Again, listening mostly, not talking. I don’t have to pretend to be an expert in everything. With regard to aliens, for example, I know I’ll never be the best. I’m content to listen. If you ever want to tell me your theories about alien life, I’m all ears. (Mostly).

Saturday, Perfect Little Daniel and I had B0DYH1GH band practice. We're going to perform at the next PUSSY FAGGOT on January 7th, as part of AMERICAN REALNESS. (Check out the flier! That's a blurry photo of me by Ves Pitts.) Anyway, B0DYH1GH hasn't played in a minute, and we're really fantastic, and only getting better. We're going to put out a mixtape featuring some demos of our gorgeous tunes (as well as some hits by our friends and favorites). Hopefully the mixtape will be ready by 1/7. We're sort of taking our time, because everything has to be perfect. But the nice thing about this band I'm in B0DYH1GH, as opposed to other projcts I've done or bands I've played with, is that everything we touch turns to gold, we're incapable of failure, and don't have to try. We're naturally perfect.

Anyway we had band practice in the afternoon, after a long break since our last practice, and I gotta say-- we've still got it! After running through our set-list (our old fans won't be disappointed!) we decided to write a new little ditty, which I'm really excited about. I think we sound really brit-pop. Like, I think our new song sounds like a britpop jam. If you sent me and PLD back in time to London in 1993, and you sent us with our weaves and dresses and firecrackers, this is the song we'd write. That's basically what we did. Anyway we finished band practice and then there was Sister Pico's Birthday Party! Full of fun and friends! My deer long lost best frend Bobo made a cameo!

Here's a photo of her in PLD's room! Three of my absolute favorite dark curly-haired vixens who inspire me and make me happy on the regular!

(L-R): Jiddy No-No, Bobo, and Lola

I feel like: if you want to know what I think is cool, what my whole trip is about, all you have to do is look at that photo. I exist for groovy women.

Ugh. Have so much fun when around those girls. Let alone all of our friends together forever. Such a fun night! A lot of really beautiful people and good snacks.

After the party I went to the city to see an Xmas Pageant, hosted by Little Miss Maxine Bernstein, in a fetching red little tuxedo. Murphy Maxwell sang a very extra special festive Christmas song. We'd all known that Murphy Brown Maxwell is a talented performer and film-maker, but did you know she can sing? She can, like, really, actually sing like a real singer like on the radio! So she sang this Christmas number, wearing her dressed-down leather child heavy metal Christian Death street look, while a video of baby cows, goats, sheep, etc. being born played behind her.

So understated and Christmas-y. Really getting into the Holiday spirit. Bradley & CoCo, NYC's newest best burning brightest (often featuring flames) burlesque duo did a very cute routine involving corsets. That was rad!

Gio performing at the Xmas pageant in a pink tutu. I kept making this joke of calling him Gio Black Swan Peter. Nobody thought it was funny. Or, nobody thought it was as funny as I thought it was. Definitely in my top 20 jokes of 2011. Right after Gio Black Hot Chili Peter. I’m a fucking comic genius, and nobody gets me. Story of my life. Ballad of a Ladyman.

Then on Sunday I had a Best Friends Day with my Best Friend, Bobo!

Here’s a picture of her sitting in my room, knitting this thread that (you can sort of only barely see it) looks just like her own hair. So adorable.

I’ve missed Bobo so much while she’s in Seattle in grad school. I was glad to have a day to wander around the city with her. We did so much fucking walking. We came home and watched Bamboozled and ordered sandwiches from Hana Food.

Last night I went to the annual Hanukkah party that my deer friend and ex-room mate Juhneefuh throws, at her palatial and gorgeous apartment in Clinton Hill. One of the many reasons I look forward to about this party is the fact that Juhneefuh lives with my fantasy boyfriend, the wonderful four (!!!) year-old kitty named Quinn, who was born in the apartment I still live in. I love Quinn very much, and can’t wait to see him. Here’s a photo of Quinn the last time I saw him, when I went to Juhneefuh’s house to get a massage.

"Hey! Get offa there! It’s my turn!"

Also the second biggest reason I was excited for the party (the second biggest non-human being reason) is because of a traditional food called latkes. Maybe you’ve heard of them? I grated the potatoes and ate two latkes. I liked having to work for them.

Tonight I'm going to another holiday party and tomorrow I'm going to California. I can't wait.

I know so many people with dark hair. It's great!
I'm not complaining.
At one point at this party over the weekend we all got into talking about (what else) Tilda Swinton. How she's like really hip or cool or avant-garde or whatever, but she's also just a very good actress. I think this thing of being hip or cool as not the point of life; just incidental. I've sort of decided/realized that I will never be cool, and I am making my peace with that. This is something that people have to discover over and over again throughout their lives. Maybe it gets easier as you're older and you are marketed to a little bit less. You're not the center of the Universe! You ain't it.

In the old days, when I was a kid, within my lifetime, this would be an obscene question to ask. Is This Ad Relevant To You? How dare you! It would be appalling to discuss the producer-consumer relationship, to call attention to the imagination of the consumer. To wake up the zombie, the seduced, pull the baby pacifiers out of our mouths. Now, they keep us awake. Engaged. Ready.


"What is there inside in one that makes one know all about war. You ask questions now why in Russia do not the Germans surrender when they are surrounded. And there is no answer except that perhaps they are afraid to. Perhaps. What is there inside one that makes one know all about war. Death starts history and fears. And that begins very soon and dies out little by little or not at all or all."
- Gertrude Stein, Wars I Have Seen
Mondays. I did want to clarify a little bit about the previous post. I'd been (as you can see) in kind of a funky mood last week. The Candy party being so exclusive and awful probably should have come as less of a surprise to me. I think I was in a particularly good position to feel threatened by it. But I don't take any of it back. It was really eye-opening and upsetting.

A post-mortem on a couple of the points:
- Isn't that Robyn song "Dancing On My Own" a straight-woman-as-gay-male fantasy? Isn't that the concept? I'm not judging, honestly, I just want to clarify. Isn't that what's happening?

- Maybe I'm just too behind the times. I thought kids wanted to have authentic experiences. Maybe everybody wants to see a movie of someone watching TV though. Maybe we can't tell the difference between the real and the simulacra of culture and identity. Maybe there's not a difference? I wish I had paid more attention during my senior year of college. I studied this shit. Sort of.

- I have nothing against private parties. I've been to a few myself. The problem, I guess, is to act like the exclusivity and snobbery of the in-crowd is somehow incidental. Acting as if it isn't the entire point, which, make no mistake, it totally is. The problem comes from acting as if the people doing the excluding aren't in positions of power. I think it's awful to position yourself as a force for progressive, inclusive change, and to do this as a marketing gimmick. AGAIN: I think maybe I'm expecting too much of a glossy fashion magazine. (Vogue Italia, with its anti-Pope rants and monthly "Black" and "Curvy" sections, while tokenism duh, suddenly seems, like, super radical now, huh?) The only acceptable reason, to my mind, for privileged people to have an exclusive space is to discuss about how to dismantle that privilege. Which almost never happens. This is purely theoretical. I'm thinking a lot about articles about Private Privileged New York "Queer" culture, it keeps coming up. Power perpetuates itself by remaining invisible.

ANYWAY. Enough of that. I had a really great weekend.

Hey look here's a video of me reading a David Wojnarowicz piece at the symposium on AIDs and Literature at the New School last week:

Saturday I shot a scene in Lonely Christopher's new movie MOM, playing a nurse to a character played by:

MINK STOLE! I love her. It was so nice to get to see her again, since doing that play at La MaMa last month. I never, ever, ever in a million years thought that I would be in an indie movie (or whatever) and in one with her, or that we'd be paling around. I am absolutely stupefied, and although I only had one line (which I fucked up very badly) everyone was patient and we had a blast. It was a magickal day. Oof.

Yesterday I got a manicure and a haircut and a bagel. But not in that order.

Things are pretty alright. Alright? Alright.


"being" "brave".


Like, I get that I am in a bad mood, and that it's affecting my ability to concentrate. And I am trying to resist the seductive pull of the Bad Mood. Trying to just let it be a feeling, and not attach too much significance to it. Trying to just let it pass or whatever. One of the ways I am thinking about doing this is through self-soothing. By trying to be really nice to myself, even though I totally don't want to. I want to be mean. I'm angry. Such a fucked-up paradox; right when the impulse is to freak out and go away and pull back from other people, this is probably the moment when you could use some connection. I know, I know. Now is a good time to stay. I don't want to, though. I'm gonna. It just sucks. I feel shitty (again) and don't really know why. Not much to say. I don't want to talk about it.

Anyways. I had a really cool time on Tuesday night, doing this reading at the New School. So happy that For the Birds invited me to come. It was really great to read with Cynthia and Cindy. DORIS was really influential to me when I was in high school, not just in terms of starting a zine, but influential in how I write and think about writing. It was such a trip to see Cindy actually reading it. DORIS always seemed to private or individual. Like a one-person radio show. It was nice to be reminded of the things which i admire so much about that zine, about the language in it. After the reading I told her how much I enjoyed her reading and we traded zines.

The crowd was mostly younger crust-punk kids. I was so intimidated! I feel like I've gotten too comfortable reading for literary fags (or illiterate fags, for that matter). It was a nice challenge. I think the kids were afraid to laugh at first. Maybe the first section of my story just needs to be shorter. Anyway they seemed to get into it. During the parts of the story that are really graphic (and pretty funny) some of the boys in the back chuckled. I'm pretty sure they were straight but I appreciate the support. A fair number of people told me they liked it, afterward, and bought zines. I felt really vindicated and real.

I used to be a punk. That used to be my community. That's kind of where I got this whole chip on my shoulder about talking to people (artists, musicians, people you don't know) who's work you liked or didn't like or just wanted to talk about. I think coming of age in a punk culture context was really good for me. It encouraged me to take risks, in terms of making my voice heard. By making my voice heard I mean making art/zines/music, and also take risks making my voice heard in terms of going up to people to talk to them, to write fan letters, to try to connect. A lot of the really special and treasured moments in my life have come from me writing fan letters, sending e-mails to strangers, saying hi to people I didn't know before. Being brave. "Brave". It's not that I think I'm so special or have any special right to insert myself into the conversation. It's not that I think that anybody wants to hear my voice, that my voice "needs" to be heard. It's more the feeling that nobody's voice, really, is so special or unique. That we don't have to be so precious about it. That grabbing the mic or whatever, asking your favorite band what their song is about, writing a poem and reading it to a room full of strangers, these are manageable. Maybe not as magickal and rare as you think when you're an audience member. Maybe just as magickal but also quotidian.

I often feel really at a loss, these days. Not to be dramatic, you guys. But like you know how some people just know what they want to do with their lives, and then their life is spent overcoming the obstacles, or refining their practice, all in service of some great need? Do people even really DO that? Anyways, I don't know. I'm not so hung-up on one particular trip. I feel like this is either (both) a sign of emotional maturity (I can make do, I guess, if I had to) or total laziness and self-hatred (I don't really want to make any big choices). Anyway Mercury's Retrograde I'm not jumping into anything.

My point is, I find as I get older that my expectations are less and less important to me. Not important... less interesting. I'm less fascinated by my capacities. It's not as enthralling as it used to be. At one point, in this here blog, I wrote that I make art about feelings and the capacity we have to feel a feeling. How stupid! I think, really, I make art about grappling with expectations.

Been thinking so much about cognitive dissonance. How can something be both good and bad? How can people be good and also evil? Maybe this is basic and everyone else gets it, but I really struggle with this and always have. This, I think, is what the "art" I make is actually about. I write a zine called Scorcher which is about sex and sexual desire as a setting. I write about how something really specific ("sex") can be exploded, over and over, into a general space. A lot of times in college I made these little one-man musicals which were about performing really intimate emotional rituals. How can something be personally significant and also be significant, or legible, to a crowd of strangers at a punk show? My big piece Lover, Ferocious is also about this, kinda. It's about how you can love someone and know they love you, and also recognize that they couldn't love you, could kill you, etc.

(SIDENOTE: the guy I based "Lover, Ferocious" off of dumped me a long time ago, but right after he dumped me, he started going out with the receptionist at the temp agency I worked for, and I dreaded having to speak to this receptionist so much that it kind of motivated me to get a real job).

The piece I made this past summer, Teach Frankenstein to Dance is also about cognitive dissonance. How something can be great and awful at the same time. It's an awful performance piece, but I also think it was kind of great.

Is it any wonder that the words "awful" and "also" sound so similar? Especially when your mouth is full?

I'm just thinking a lot about myself these days, I guess. I can never decide if my fundamental problem is that I'm too self-absorbed or if it's something else. I keep coming back to these experiences of like, meeting people in New York, bigshot famous people who ostensibly are interested in the same things I am, and I'd want to, like, talk about these things, and they have another agenda.

My friend X was telling me about how this trendy new artist, this young genius who doesn't make a lot of money, but comes from money and makes art, so it seems like he's really successful, hit on him through the internet. The Artist wrote my buddy X to tell him he'd be in town soon and couldn't wait to take him out. My buddy X seemed to think that this augured well for his own artistic career. I felt like this is actually the Artist trying to bank on his so-called Success At Art as a way of getting laid. I told my friend X that the Artist had also made a similar overture to me online, that same week (which is true). My buddy X' eyes fell. Clearly heartbroken. Anything offered to me as well as him must therefore be less valuable.

Maybe I'm being pessimistic? It's almost lunch time.


I was in a shitty mood this afternoon for no reason. Or actually a bunch of reasons, but none of them any better than other ones (old shit, dumb shit, etc.) And I kinda pulled it together. I realized I was raging, got ahold of myself and chilled out. Ate some soup, listened to the new Younger Lovers 7" I just got in the mail, and met up with Jiddy to go see the new Muppets movie. The movie was cute. We ate some good snacks. Good vibes. We got out and the weather was pouring and decided to take a cab, but couldn't decide between going to Jiddy's first or to my house first, but we decided go over the Williamsburg bridge, and when we told the cab driver he started yelling at us about how stupid that was, how we were stupid, how it was a waste of time and money and would take longer than to take the tunnel to Queens. I told the guy to just take me to the subway, then, and I stormed out of the cab and got into the wrong subway platform and then when crossed the street in the rain to the right platform I just missed the train. The train finally came and I read some of the new Doris I got last night, and when I got home I decided to get a snack since I'm really upset and I'm not counting a cup of vegan soup at 6pm as dinner and I'd been watching Miss Piggy for two hours and I went to the stupid bourgie deli since it's the only thing open at 10pm (really) but all the food they had, like tofu or whatever, was all rotten, puffing the containers out, expired last week. I left disgusted stomping through the rain to the other bourgie deli open all night, which is closer to my house, and new, but more expensive. Their shit wasn't rotten and was a dollar cheaper. I bought some fake vegan sushi and a big chocolate rice krispie treat (I read somewhere that this is what models snack on backstage at the shows) and I got home. I'm totally soaking now and furious and not really at anyone. The cab drive just really set me off. I hate feeling like this. I just finished this book of early Gertrude Stein stories, and I had decided this summer that instead of therapy I'd just read every single thing Gertrude Stein ever wrote, and if, after doing that, I still wanted to go back to therapy then I could do that. I sort of got sidetracked (the book I was reading was pretty boring) and I made an appointment with an analyst. So tonight, having just finished this boring book, I moved onto the next Gertrude Stein book, which ought to stave off my craziness until I can get my head shrunk, and the Gertrude Stein book I am going to read next is: WARS I HAVE SEEN.


Last night, you guys, I passed out at 8:30pm. Seriously. But then I woke up again and ate an apple and fell back asleep at 10. I slept so hard. I deserved it. I have this thing, during the week, where I sleep maybe 7 hours a night if I am lucky, reasoning that it's the work week, and that I have to work (in many ways), and that I will be able to sleep on the weekend.

But then the weekend comes, and I don't want to sleep because there's so much fun to be had, and I figure I'll use the work week as the time to catch up on my sleep. But then that never happens, and I progressively turn into a zombie (albeit a very productive and popular one) and find myself on Sunday afternoon, nearly comatose, comparing two identical pairs of black socks, one in each hand, looking back and forth between them in the harsh fluorescent light at Uniqlo, trying to decide if they are the same color. They were. I bought both. The very tiny last bit of my focus was spent up buying socks yesterday afternoon. If you know me well enough to see me without my shoes on (many people do) you probably know how badly I’ve needed new socks.

Anyway this weekend was rad. Saturday was this fantastic symposium on AIDS and Literature at the New School, organized by the inimitable Dale Peck. I was so honored to be included in the event. It was totally surreal to be on a panel with, say, Amy Scholder, and be discussing the books I had read in high school which began to teach me about AIDS, about queer identity in America, about culture, about life, and then realize that basically all of the books I am talking about, so many of the touchstones in my, let’s say, “journey” have been published by her. It’s nuts. So many really amazing people involved in the event. Including, of course, the Grand Supreme Diva Herself, Miss Larry Kramer. It was so insane. He was very sweet, of course, and read from his new book in-progress, about the American psyche, history, identity. It’s like he’s speaking through a loudspeaker. I felt very humbled and thrilled to be part of the event.

Afterward I hustled myself over to Public Assembly where I was go-go dancing at QxBxRx. It's the second-to-last party. I'm very sad about this. I've been go-go dancing at this party for almost five years. That is significant. My feelings about go-go dancing, which I've never, really, written anything about, are kind of still forming. I keep talking about how this means that I will have to retire from go-go dancing but I'm not entirely sure that's true. But mostly true. I really wanted to be a go-go dancer in the first place because of the kids I saw dancing at the Rated X Panty Party at Opaline on Ave. A in the summer of 2005 (remember?) who seemed like they were having so much fun. And then, of course, because Lady Miss Kier had been a go-go dancer, much for the same reasons I was, I think: you get to dance at nightclubs and get paid for it. Such an awesome experience. Really trippy. So anyways second-to-last QxBxRx was fun. Stayed up too late but what's new?

The two big new pieces of information today are that I'm doing this really amazing reading tomorrow in NYC! At the New School! at 8pm! It's FREE!

Such an honor to be opening for Cindy. DORIS has meant a lot to me for a very long time. I'll be reading my new story, RINGO, which is going to be in the newest issue of birdsong. So please come to the reading tomorrow night!

Okay, and the last thing I wanted to write about is (duh) Erin Markey. She's in San Francisco doing her show "The Dardy Family Home Movies by Stephen Sondheim by Erin Markey". It's a fantastic show, and I hope a lot of people get to see it. Erin was recently the topic of a really amazing essay by Michelle Tea. It feels really vindicating, somehow, to see someone as brilliant and articulate as Tea pay such close attention to Erin's work. I'm really excited by the prospect of Erin becoming a household name, and I want to run around high-fiving everyone. Michelle Tea really gets Erin, and is able to convey her genius effectively She navigates the synergy of Erin's multiple aesthetics and tactics, and gives her the credit she deserves. Erin's a genius, the essay is genius, it's great.

There's also a really cute interview with Erin in the SF Bay Guardian. Slightly less effusive, it does give a good sense of Erin's sly sense of humor, and her intelligence, and makes me want to go see the show. This interview really struck me, though, for another reason. Not just because I know Erin (bragging: I totally do).

In 1998, when I was 14, I read an issue of the SF Bay Guardian that had features of Beth Lisick and Miranda July, and it introduced their work. I ended up going to see July perform at what had been an abandoned movie theater in Berkeley (MeMe America, Tracy from Tracy +the Plastics' first band, opened). I went with my mom. July was, I think, maybe 24 years old. I thought that was so fucking old. Anyway it really blew my mind, and Miranda July's early records absolutely changed the direction and course of my life and made me want to be a performer, really, apart from doing theater in school. It was very inspiring. Beth Lisick I also mention because I was, after reading the Guardian piece, obsessed with her band, the Beth Lisick Ordeal, and really loved their CD, Pass. I still think she's genius and I got a chance to meet her last year when she came to NY and did a performance with (duh) Erin.

Anyway. The point is that I hope more young isolated queerdos are reading their free weeklies and finding out about people like Erin and getting the inspiration and permission they need.



I have these events coming up in NYC and I really want people to come to them! Here is what they are. *UPDATED TO INCLUDE INFO ABOUT THE ZINE READING NEXT WEEK*

Saturday, December 03, 2011
11:00 a.m. - 9:00 p.m.
Tischman Auditorium, Alvin Johnson/J. M. Kaplan Hall, 66 West 12th Street.

The School of Writing in conjunction with the publishing collective Mischief and Mayhem marks the 30th anniversary of the start of the AIDS epidemic with a one-day symposium featuring two panels. The event also features a screening of Dan Fishback's thirtynothing and David Wojnarowicz's A Fire in the Belly; excerpts from the ACT UP Oral History Project and selections from the Visual AIDS' Broadside series and Archive Project which will be on display. The day will close with a reading.

Organized by Dale Peck, the event features panelists and readings from: Rabih Alameddine, Michael Denneny, Gary Indiana, Zia Jaffrey, John Kelley, Larry Kramer, Jennie Livingston, Amy Scholder, Max Steele, John Weir, and Edmund White.

Facebook event (if you're into that sort of thing) with full schedule of events HERE.

*UPDATED* The panels and readings will take place in Tischman auditorium, which is the New School's main auditorium at 66 W. 12th St., on the first floor. The reception, however, will still be in Wollman Hall, because we can't have food or drink in or around Tischman. The videos and artwork will also remain in Wollman.

Kind of overwhelmed and intimidated by the other folks that are part of this symposium! Kind of an all-star cast. Really excited, and honored to be included, of course. After the symposium, I'm going to go-go dance at QxBxRx, at Public Assembly.

Saturday, 12/3/11

Public Assembly | Back Room | 70 North 6th St | Williamsburg
10PM | 21+ | $7 cover | Free Booze 10:30-11:30PM

QxBxRx (Queers Beers & Rears) presents...


Resident DJs/Hosts GO-KARFF, SIR LOINS & A.MARTINI spin punk, garage, indie, dance and more! Plus QBR Go-go Boys Max & Johnny!
For more info, check out www.facebook.com/qxbxrx

Okay so that's this weekend. NEXT WEEK there's an amazing reading, also at the New School:

Tuesday December 6th, 8-10PM
The New School , 6 E 16th St. - Room 1107

For The Birds Collective & MFA Collective Works present:

a zine reading w/
Cindy Crabb (Doris and Support zines)
Cynthia Schemmer (Habits of Being)
Max Steele (Scorcher)

8pm // open to the public // donations accepted
zine tabling by the readers and For The Birds

Cindy - dorisdorisdoris.com
Max - fagcity.blogspot.com
Cynthia - habitbeing.blogspot.com

Doris is totally my favorite zine in the whole world, and has been for like fifteen years? Sounds about right. I am so pumped.

Hey also remember this Moloko jam?