Cooked, eaten.

Last week I had the supreme pleasure of being on Joey Hansom aka GODMOTHER's legendary radio show Expatriarch. Running my mouth off about feminism and male appropriation, as is my wont, and talking about my current obsession, which is the new song by the Julie Ruin featuring miss Vaginal Crème Davis, "Girls Like Us". You can hear the new song (if you haven't already) HERE. That song is kind of like a dream come true for me, like all these great things put together. Definitely an auspicious start to the new year, you should all listen to it. You can hear the adorable full radio show with me and Joey on EXPATRIARCH RADIO. Joey was on a whirlwind expat tour of the US, I wish I had screwed up a bit more my my nocturnal courage to hang out with her in NYC, but she's now departed back to Berlina, where all the cool kids are. I want to go back very badly. I guess I need to start planning another trip. I want to hang out with La JJ and all those gorgeous kids. There're so many place I want to go, truly. I'm working on getting more of my nocturnal courage together. Tonight I'm going out, for example.

Friday after work I ran home just long enough to take a short and change my clothes. Something weird has been happening to me the last few months where I never know what to wear. it's not that anything really depends on what I wear, but in my indecision I locate a fundamental anxiety about my life. I stare at my clothes, which is essentially a pile of black jeans and striped or polka-dotted tops, and I don't know what to do. I think: Who am I? Where am I, in here? It's a little bit scary to be so indecisive. Anyway I wore all black, and this black rope necklace my aunt gave me, which has titanium woven into the fibers. It's supposed to improve your circulation, or you qi, or something. I already had about an inch and a half of titanium drilled into my skull three years ago, so I'm probably maximizing my titanium exposure. I just wear it to look cute. Baseball players swear by them. They say that despite the  dearth of actual evidence showing that they do anything, that they really help one's baseball game.
I should specify: they're worn mostly by Pitchers. Natch.

So whatever I looked cute in all black, I really spent a lot of time getting dressed, putting on moisturizer and cologne, thinking really intentionally about my presentation, to go see Laurie Weeks and Pamela Sneed read at the Bureau for General Services Queer Division. I met up with Sister Pico, Perfect Little Daniel, Boy Genius Sam, Anthony Laureate Thornton (who is doing her OWN reading at the BGSQD herself on 1/17 please go!) and sweet sexy wordsmith and art star Joseph Whitt (who's incendiary new chapbook is now for sale at the Bureau). It was so great. I thought I was going to be epickally late, but I wasn't. The reading didn't start until after I got there. And it was fantastic. I wasn't so familiar with Pamela Sneed's work, but god fucking damn it she broke my heart way open. It was such a good way to spend Friday night. I had that thought, really consciously: "I'm so glad I'm doing this right now". Of course loved Weeks' reading, from Zippermouth, which is about (for me) being totally out of it and also being totally on top of it. I felt kind of self-conscious, getting all dressed up to hear stories about office temps snorting unknown (unknowable) drugs in the bathrooms of their horrid offices. But it felt right. To honor this experience, or something. After the reading I gave Laurie a zine, admitted that we follow each other on Twitter, totally geeked out on her, she was very sweet. I went back to Brooklyn with the boys and we watched The Simpsons and ordered Thai food at Pico and PLD's house. Eventually I slunk back to the city to go to Gio Black Swan Peter's new party BROTHERFUCKER in the basement of the legendary Pyramid club. It was actually so cute, and such a trip to be at the fucking Pyramid Club, right? When was the last time you were there? Maybe you are like me and you went there right when you moved to New York and then never went back. You should come back, to Gio's party. It's like-- it makes sense. It's perfect. I ran into my old, old party buddy Mordecai and we caught up, after having not seen each other in years. The last time he saw me I was very, very hungover and performing an actually quite intense piece. I was so touched that he came to that performance. He was one of only a few people I knew who went. On Friday night, he suggested we go around the corner to check out this fashion party, but they wouldn't let us in. And the people they did let in sucked, so I just went home. We exchanged numbers again and I am excited to hang out be back in touch and hang out with him.

I didn't go out much this weekend, I was rehearsing my performance for the ENCOURAGER Works in Progress performances at the end of this month. If you're in New York, I really want you to come see it.

Tonight I am going to try to save some strength to go see this new queer performance art night at the Metropolitan. I'm gonna try. Let's see.

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