I sometimes feel like there's no point in catching up. Or, like it's an impossible goal. So it's been weeks since I've blogged. I'm sure tons of important or interesting things have happened, potentially worth mentioning (or not). I've been sipping the last bits of summer from August. Having too much fun. Sleeping some.
I've been really into living "in the moment" lately. It's so hokey, but a week ago, on Sunday night, when I was on my way to this fantastic reading at the Monster, presented by Spunk Arts Magazine. I was really excited for it, and had the afternoon to myself. I was walking around Brooklyn, and then later the Village, and the weather was nice, and I had cigarettes, and I was wearing my new shoes, and drinking this black-cherry seltzer and had a really conscious thought, for one second, of how great everything was. Like, really clearly: "What could be better than this?" The thought only lasted for a nanosecond, but it really struck me. What if I felt like that all the time? What is we were living in the best of all possible worlds? We might be. We may as well be. But then does that mean that we shouldn't strive to make the world a better place? Not necessarily. I think you can live in the moment and appreciate life, and still work and fight to make the world a more loving and just place. Hey, maybe living in the moment is a way to begin doing that, eh?
So, now, two Sundays ago I did this fantastic reading of some of Roy Garrett's poems, over some lovely music by Rich King and Michael T. I remember when I first moved to New York, my absolute favorite party was the Rated X Panty Party, then at Opaline, DJed by Michael T and Theo from the Lunachicks. It really made such a big impression on me, and I was really excited to get to be at the same event as Mx T. Such a fun night! I was really into reading over music, kind of working out some of my Laurie Anderson/Wordcore issues. should that be where I go? Where my late 20s take me? A trip-hop spoken-word artist? Would you follow me there? Regardless, a rad night, beautifully organized by sweetheart Aaron from Spunk.
The last week's been sort of uneventful. Or, just not stressful. I went to the dentist and there was nothing wrong, nothing to be fixed. I'm so relieved. I finished reading Sheila Heti's brilliant How Should A Person Be?, which blew my mind probably more than I would have guessed. I actually have a lot I want to say about this brilliant book but I can't right now. I need to do some more thinking about it. It's amazing, though, and basically I would recommend that anyone I know go out and read it. But then it's like... maybe I only know people who would "get" that book. Is that a problem, really? It's a brilliant book, you should definitely go read it right now. I did a recording project with Max B. for his upcoming podcast, which is going to be plainly hilarious. We were talking though, about how sometimes people seem to express nostalgia for another way of life, a bygone era. I'm thinking of Steampunk and Seapunk and all manner of nostalgia, romance which feels itself to be rooted in a time and place. Like, oh, you would, really, like to go back to life before World War I? Really? Max made this casual reference though, I forget to what, to someone who said they wished they lived in the past, and he said something to the effect of how much better things are now, with, like, penicillin. How right now is the best possible time to be alive. I thought: "Oh. Right." And of course that's right. Really: what could be better? What could be better than right now? A more equitable, free, peaceful world, sure. A world that humankind hadn't fundamentally polluted, sure. But those things are not the here and now, and right now is a great place to start. This is the best time to start. This is the best time to be alive, and "Death", as Actually and Murphy would sing so beautifully on Saturday (get to that in a second), "is never late."
Had so much fun over the weekend, punctuated by periods of epick, extreme down-time. Friday I met up with PLD and Kyle and we went to the Boiler Room. I hadn't been there in a long time, but it's actually really fun, and full of a really eclectic mix of people from all walks of queer life, all united in the name of cheap drinks. It feels like San Francisco to me. Disgusting, but that's how we like it. Laid back. I also heard that they have a policy where they won't play Lady G**a songs on the jukebox there. Like, the songs are on the jukebox, but it's just understood that if you put your money in the jukebox and request a song of hers, that they'll turn it off. Isn't that cool? Like: Boiler Room, where everyone is having fun, and everyone's welcome, and it's all laid-back, San Francisco and disgusting-but-who-cares?, has one rule. And that's the rule. I like that. At the bar, people were playing lots of songs off Goxxip's new album. It's so strange to me to be in a gay bar, as a grown-up, in 2012, in New York, listening to the Gossip. I never imagined my life would be like this. Everything is so much better than anyone could imagine. In the mens room, I heard a guy in the bathroom stall sniffing coke, and singing along to the song "Men In Love" ("Naa-naa-naa-naa! Men In Loooooove!"). Just great. Just wonderful.
Saturday I had a meeting to discuss the art residency I'm going to be starting... next week. I'm so excited and also terrified, of doing a new big show, and doing it so slowly. Over the course of a year! For anyone that knows me even the smallest bit, I'm criminally distracted, so trying to maintain focus on something (anything) for this many months is going to move me way outside of my comfort zone. But that's good!
I have so many projects I want to work on. Music, writing. But mostly I want to make this new performance art show. I can't wait. Even if I really struggle and am spending my first rehearsals hysterically crying alone in the dance studio-- that's great. I want to do that. Let me cry there. Take it apart, right?
After the meeting, I walked over the Williamsburg bridge to see Actually perform at 121 Gallery, along with Ssion and House of Ladosha. It was an early show, it was a free show, it was a small show, meaning that not too many people came. I actually had really just the best time. I went by myself but I knew a bunch of people there, and there was a ton of white wine, and of course Actually makes good on the promise of Stevie Nicks (forgive the pedantic reference but) and Ssion is clearly a genius, duh, and House of Ladosha is maybe my favorite band in NYC. It felt so nice to get to go to a show in an art gallery. I haven't seen a music show in one in a while. Also so nice to get to see these three acts in a relatively small crowd! How lucky. Thee gorgeous Murphy Maxwell was in town, having recently she-located to Los Angeles, like so many dear departed hearts, and has fallen totally in love with it, like you do. I was glad to see sweetheart Murphy, and to hear him SING. He's SUCH a good singer! It's totally criminal! Why isn't he a big huge star? The world is so unfair. Let's change it. Power-walked/drunk-walked with Lady Miss Colin Self and took the L train home, catching up.
I picked up my new neighbor Sam, and we went to this BUFFET party, DJ'ed by Benjamin Ha'Bear and Shomi Noise and Pozsi Kolor and Brian Belukha and it was near our neighborhood at the House of Yes. It was so. Much. Fun. I can't remember the last time I danced so hard. I was literally disgusting, people were disgusted by me because I was sweating so much. I thought I might pass out. A couple people did ask me if I was okay. It was gross and great. Such good music! There was this amazing mash-up of Khia's "My Neck, My Back" and "Call Me Maybe" that was kind of absolutely blowing my mind. And FREE FOOD. Candy on every table. Nath-Ann showed up, having just come from a witchy queer wedding ceremony, bringing with her the blessèd wedding feast leftovers. Have you ever tried to flirt with this cute boy you know while dancing to that Grimes song you don't like but have to pretend to like, while eating cold falafel and sweating buckets? I have. It was great, you should try it.
I actually danced so hard that I fucked up my leg really bad. It had sort of hurt before I picked Sam up, and probably going out dancing was a less-than-fantastic idea, but I had fun, sipping whiskey and dancing my ass off. I didn't notice. I went home, dehydrated, and fell asleep. I had a very bad dream, in which my leg hurt and I didn't know why. My right knee was mysteriously broken or pulled out of socket or something. In the dream, I was telling someone that my knee hurt and I didn't know why, and in the dream the person I was talking to said "Well see? Right there." and I looked at my knee and there a huge purple bruise. How hadn't I noticed that? "Okay," I thought, in the dream, "at least that explains why it hurts! Thank goodness it's not a mystery."
I woke up to pretty severe pain, and I couldn't put any weight on my right leg. There was no bruise. I sat on my floor and did some stretches and kind of hobbled around for a bit. Eventually it did start to feel better, throughout the day. Could I have pulled a muscle in my sleep? I've actually sustained some pretty gnarly injuries that way. I feel a million times better today, but still vaguely sore. So I'm taking tonight off from the gym, which is actually a pretty big thing for me, and I'm going to see this Ai WeiWei documentary with Tommy.
Not Supremes. Don't you think this would make a good t-shirt? I do.
I spent most of Sunday running around Park Slope. Or, I should say, walking very slowly, with a limp. I got off the B63 bus much sooner than I needed to, to go to the Key Foods in Park Slope. Theirs is so much nicer than the one near me. Theirs is having a big party to celebrate their 75th anniversary-- I bet the one near me isn't. The Key Foods in Park Slope, however, stocks their generic name-brand peanut butter, in the glass jars, which I like to use as drinking glasses. I thought I'd never find one again! But I did.
Here's this all-girl Swedish metal band I used to like so much when I was in middle school: