Career Extra

I feel like I might actually be getting sick. I'm really hoping that's not the case, but there's an ominous tickle in my throat. And I've had a really bad headache for like two days, which is totally uncharacteristic. I think it's from carrying too much stuff around on my left shoulder this weekend? Last night, I was in a rough mood and getting ready for bed (sickly bed) last night when I came across the following fashion editorial on Tumblr. I had actually been half looking for this, but figured it wouldn't be out till the summer, and even if it was, I wouldn't be in it. So I was pleasantly surprised to see it show up on my dash.

This was a fun project, in the way that it's fun to get to say that I got some cash to sit behind Liya for Japanese Vogue. They did end up using a photo of me, pretending to be asleep.

Cute, right?

Vogue Japan, April 2013
Models: Liya Kebede & David Agbodji
Photographer: Mikael Jansson
Fashion Editor: George Cortina
Hair: Anthony Turner
Make-up: Hannah Murray

There were, obviously, other photos which featured me much more prominently and they weren't used but that's ok that's part of the trip of being an extra. Of being in the background.

Tonight I'm helping to host this epick, massive reading at the Spectrum. Featuring so many of my favorite people. I really hope I'm not getting sick. Staying positive, eating lots of gross shit.


Clock Blamer

So, Mercury is Retrograde. Until March 17th. I'm actually not scared. I'm far too busy "living in the moment" and agonizing over literally any conceivable detail of self-maintenance to worry about whether or not my messages are being received, or whether I'm going to need to have something important repeated to me. I guess I generally expect there to be misunderstandings these days, so it doesn't feel so different right now.

Last night was a Full Moon, though, which was lovely. I went to see miss Nath Ann Carrera perform at the Wild Project in the East Village. I've actually never seen an evening-length performance by Ms. C, and this was just fantastic. She played some of the classic jams we know and love, as well as some new ones. And the stories are kind of the big thing, for me. I feel like Nath Ann is something like a talk-show or history book. Sometimes we hang out at bars or parties and get to catch up, and I'm so excited to get to see Nath Ann indulge in his storytelling onstage, with the appropriate amount of lights, space, reverb. There was a fantastic cameo appearance by miss Amber Martin for the duo's "Witch Camp". So fucking cool. Nath Ann ended with a very special costume change and vintage choreography for a lovely cover of' "Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft". A fairly perfect way to spend Monday night. I saw my old college buddy Gavin there, for the first time in many years, which was sweet.

I was in such a rush, though. Yesterday it felt like I was late for everything. I didn't have enough time to go to the gym before the show. I did have enough time to cook a huge amount of food though, which ended up being kind of gross. At least I have lunch for the week. I didn't have time to eat dinner before the show, though. Maybe that's the Mercury Retrograde bit: the disorganization. I was late to Nath Ann's show, the guy from the Wild Project took us in through a strange back entrance, which was nice of him but maybe unnecessarily fancy.

I absolutely never thought I would be one of those people (can't bring myself to use the phrase "New Yorker") who complained about not having enough time. Whose complaint was that there aren't enough hours in the day. But I am that person. There aren't enough hours in the day. I would actually much rather we had an extra day of the week. I guess I can't blame the clock, though. It's not the calendar's fault. It's my fault, mostly, for not managing my time well. Whenever I get a moment to myself I want to relax, to sleep. But when I'm under the gun (any day except for Saturday or Sunday) I'm like a fucking machine of chaos.

February's been a really packed month. I played two music shows and did four readings, the last being tomorrow night (Wednesday) at the Spectrum. I'm co-hosting a Writers' Edition of their variety show Mama Said Sparkle, featuring: Nicholas Gorham, yours truly, Becky Eklund, Kayla Morse, Xeňa Stanislavovna Semjonová, Anthony Thornton, and the legendary Walt Cessna. All this for only $5.

It's going to be really epic and special and you'd better fucking come. The link for the event on facebook is HERE.

I can't believe it's only Tuesday. The last week has been awesome and also pretty excruciating. In a not-entirely-unwelcome way. Last Tuesday sucked and I was totally miserable, like I think I said. Then on Wednesday I went to the gym early, worked a little, then met up with Erin to take the train to Philly. Being on a train, even for just an hour or two, was great, because I couldn't conceivably be better-using my time (I deliberately didn't bring my laptop). I read the new issue of Vogue with Beyoncé on the cover, ate some clementines, and looked out the window at Pennsylvania. it was actually really lovely.

Philly was totally freezing, but I had a blast. The Kelly Writers House is amazing, the crowd for the reading was really sweet and attentive. I met some people who knew my writing which is actually always 100% surprising and touching. After the reading we hung out at a friends' house in Philly and drank wine and ordered pizza and those of us who knew the words sang some showtunes (not me). Went to sleep at Dan's fancy Artist in Residence apartment. In the morning Erin and Dan and I hung out in Philly, luxuriating around the icy verdant Penn campus before getting back on the train home. It was lovely.

I got some kind of upsetting news while in Philly, about something that happened years ago which I didn't know. Or actually, something I thought had happened actually did not happen. It really upset me but I don't feel like getting into it beyond the fact that: dealing with disappointment is always a lesson. So I think I'm trying to really make the most out of the situation.

Anyway Thursday and Friday were a blur of running around, fretting, worrying. Getting back into the swing of things. Of certain things. Getting back into doing things I used to do which I miss doing. It feels weird to have secrets. But you know, even this thing of familiar or known comforts is deceptive. You can never go back, really.

Saturday I did this epic private party performance which involved Erin and also Gage of the Boones and Icky Mikki and Pozsi Teknikolor Banshie and Boogers from the Gentle Laxatives (aka Jason B. from our publishing house Gay Sunshine Press). I want to keep the exact details a secret as well but suffice it to say it was Uptown and very swanky and I was exhausted before and afterward. I spent all of Sunday, basically, recuperating, until my reading at the Bureau of General Services Queer Division, which was organized by boypoet superstar Andrew Durbin, which was totally lovely. I found out that BGSQD is going to stay at their Lower East Side location (Strange Loop Gallery) INDEFINITELY, which is fantastic news.

And I feel pretty exhausted and gross. Tonight I'm going to the studio in Brooklyn to finish (hopefully) working on a new story, then home to cook dinner. At once too busy and overwhelmed and also bored, listless. I spent a lot of today listening to the new Lisa Germano record. It's gorgeous but too sad. Everything is feast or famine. The golden mean is a myth. Too busy or not busy enough. Too present or completely removed.

I had a lot of angry feelings this week and even though I feel like a coward for them I'm glad at least I didn't make myself the sole object of them. I don't know how to put what I want to say: I wish there were more hours in the day, sure. But I wish, really, that there were just different hours. A latitudinal shift: something just parallel to what I already know. Like a code in a video game where, after starting the game, you're suddenly transported to a much more advanced level. Or a hidden zone. Just by knowing that there are other ways to go. I wish I knew other ways to go. This definitely seems like one of those things that you can't find by looking for it.

I have a headache.


Late Edition

Edited to Add: I feel better now.

OK so I only threw one tantrum today, and it wasn't even that bad. And I apologized for it right after it happened. Some ameliorations this afternoon:

At work, I got a copy of the lost Snowpony record. The Little Girls Understand 7" on the Rough Trade singles club. I didn't know it existed until legendary Larry-Bob tweeted about it. It's amazing. I forgot I ordered it and it arrived today. It's the best. SO much buzz about the new My Bloody Valentine Record, and then none. Then it stopped! But Larry-Bob is right on to talk about Snowpony, who I also love. The 7" is double special because it does feature liner notes by Pat Califa, mostly about daddies, and it also includes this gem:


(Emphasis mine). The songs are both new personal anthems. I'm so bummed that they're not available as MP3s. I guess if you want to hear them, you'll have to come over to my house. Or invite me to bring my 7" over to yours.

Anyway, then when I got home from work and while trying to make a snack by mixing up the peanut butter, the cat jumped near me and while trying to shoo her off the counter, I totally accidentally spilled peanut oil on my nice work shirt and I definitely started wigging out, but I found out I got lovely a handwritten letter from my soul sister La JohnJoseph. I can't wait to visit her this summer! It's been too long. I'm old now, and now she is a tiny little teen girl supermodel. She ages in reverse. So that lifted my spirits.

Then I had a meeting, a rehearsal for this project this weekend and involved is Miss Erin Markey, as well as Boogers, and me, and we're all Leos. And it's a private party (I'll say that much only) and it's so exciting but I was feeling overwhelmed and I kind of had a little bit of a shitfit at the meeting. But I got it together and I think it was ok. And I decided I'm going to have so much fun.

And then again Erin and I are hanging out tomorrow to take the train to Philly to do a reading with Dan Fishback at the Kelly Writers House. I'm actually really very excited and definitely honored to go there, to be invited to read there. I hope people come! It's free and at 6pm. And I'm excited about that.

I'm focusing on being excited. I'm gonna listen to this new Snowpony 7" a million more times and eat some steamed squash a la chef Miss Jess Paps and go to bed extra early so that I can sneak to the gym in the morning. I feel better. I'm super excited to go to Philly. I love that city.

Speaking of things that make me feel better always, I found this video of Bridget Everett performing with Patti LuPone. It's amazing and makes me so happy:

This video makes me feel so many wonderful feelings.

Higher Proof

Well, it's Tuesday and I feel like a total fuck-up. For no good reason. I had a pretty good weekend. The show B0DYH1GH played on Friday night at Fancy was literally a dream come true. I've wanted to play that party since Shane Shane started doing it. So many of our friends came, it was a nice night. I tried to do a lot of writing this weekend and only a tiny little bit happened, in a way that made me excited. I'm going to Philadelphia tomorrow afternoon to do a reading with Erin Markey and Dan Fishback at the Kelly Writers House, which I'm obviously thrilled about, and then I have another two readings before the end of the month.

But if I can get real here on my blog: I'm in a pretty horrible fucking mood. Maybe I'm chemically deficient or something, but it feels like I just can't enjoy shit. Even these opportunities, literally the type of thing I would have prayed for last month, seem overwhelming.

I need a vacation. But honestly, even taking a few minutes to think about a vacation, fantasize, seems too difficult. It occurs to me that I might actually just need to admit that I have some kind of anxiety disorder. This is the slipperiest of slopes, because then why not just get locked up, right? I feel like I'm on the verge of tears and have felt like this all day.

How disgusting that this is the feeling that Cindy Sherman professes to want to depict. Like: gross, right?

I feel personally affronted by shit that I know has nothing to do with me. I hate Tuesdays so much. At least this one's almost over.


Last night was Valentine's Day. I took myself on a date to the Barney's sale, where I got a really cute pair of jeans (that leak obscene amounts of indigo dye), took myself to dinner at the fancy west village falafel place, went to my analyst, where I talked about this nightmare I had:

(NIGHTMARE: I am in a ski lodge with my mom and her best friend. The ski lodge is gorgeous and newly renovated. I begin to notice, however, that there are many hidden rooms in the building, which have not been renovated, and begin to explore the hidden spaces with mounting anxiety, and then I wake up frustrated.)

I came back to Brooklyn and went to the gym and was the last one there, at 11pm, on Valentine's Day. I was thinking about sentences I wanted to write for this story I'm working on. I came home and ate this vegan low-calorie ice cream and poured myself a very big gin and tonic and drank it slowly while I painted my nails. It was sort of perfect.

Wednesday I did that reading at the Bureau of General Services Queer Division to celebrate the release of SATANICA, the hit art zine curated by Gio Black Peter and Christopher Stoddard. It was so cool! Bruce Benderson, Slava Mogutin, Micki Pellerano, Christopher and Gio and I all read. It was really cool. Afterward we all went to Gio's and drank beers and ate pizza. I finally got a copy of the zine. They had some trouble printing it because it's so obscene (it is, really, so obscene, it's totally great), and they only printed 350 copies, which actually sold out before the printing even came back. It's a hit! I was rabid to get a copy. And flipping through it last night and this morning I got kind of emotional. It features so many amazing artists and writers, I feel really honored to be included. It's sort of beyond my wildest imaginations that I might be in some art zine/book with folks like Richard Kern, Michael Alig, Bruce La Bruce, Bruce Benderson, Slava Mogutin, Travis Jeppesen, No Bra, and so, so many more. It's so cool. I'm really proud. Alligator tear. Of course, the zine is sold out with no plans to reissue it, so until one of these faggot genius weirdos donates their copy to the NYU Fales Collection (let's face it: it'll be me), no one will know about this zine! It's great, it's like a joke.

Occurs to me now that I could just make up an entire bibliography for myself, invent a career. People do that all the time. Tuesday I agonized over some writing projects, and Monday night PLD and I practice the B0DYH1GH set we're going to do tonight at The Hose for Shane-Shane's party FANCY. I'm really excited about our satanic sexy Sheryl Crow cover song.

Everything is good even when it's bad. Even when it's bad, it's still worth having. Probably. I might take that back. I'm a little bit scared watching the videos of the meteorites falling in Russia, until it occurs to me that the reason they're scary is because they sound like bombs, or rockets. And how lucky I am that that sound (what I imagine those sounds to be) are so unfamiliar to to me as to really scare me.

Tonight I'm wearing all kinds of blue as part of my look.

I just found this video from the conference on AIDS and Literature I was part of at the New School last year, organized by Dale Peck. You can see a video of readings by more legends such as: Dale Peck, Rabih Alameddine, Michael Denneny, Gary Indiana, John Kelly, Larry Kramer, Amy Scholder, John Weir, and Edmund White. And me. And little fresh-faced oblivious Max Steele. I was so out of my depth, and so fundamentally honored and thrilled to be in that room with those people.

I think I mentioned this, but I got to shake Larry David's hand and she wears all kind of magick jewelry. It was kind of a hugely wonderful thing.

OK on to Friday Night. Here we go.


It's Valentine's Day and you need to know that I am the one.
I am going to tell you.



It's been a year since Whitney Houston died, and a year since we had a party. I want someone to throw a house party (but not my house). I'm in the mood to party. On Friday night I performed at Pussy Faggot at Public Assembly. It was a lot of fun. To pre-game, I hung out in the apartment below mine with my new downstairs neighbors Jessica Paps, Sister Tommy Pico, Perfect Little Daniel, and we were graced by the miss Lola Savitz, always a highlight. We hung out in Jess' new room, right beneath mine, and had fun until I accidentally broke a martini glass. I was mortified. So then I went to Public Assembly for the show.

Got to see such lovely other folks. Earl really outdid herself. I think that my set went pretty good, I did a lot of covers (Helium's "Pat's Trick", Huggy Bear's "Sizzlemeet"), watched a bunch of fun performers, and probably drank too much tequila. Saturday was hard! I went to an art show with Sam in Bushwick, I went for a drink at the Standard but got too exhausted and left early. Sunday I had a fantastic meeting inPark Slope as part of this BAX residency, it was sort of perfect. I chatted with BFF Bobo and did some strolling around Manhattan. I always go from extreme leisure to extreme panic. Now it's the week, I'm Panicking because I have so much to do.

FIRST OF ALL: if you're in NYC, please come to the reading tomorrow night at the Bureau of General services - Queer Division, to celebrate the release of SATANICA, the new arts/literary journal edited by Christopher Stoddard and Gio Black Peter. I'm going to read my new piece, and also reading are Gio Black Peter, Christopher Stoddard, Bruce Benderson, Slava Mogutin, and Micki Pellerano. More info at the Facebook invite HERE.

And then on Friday night, please come see B0DYH1GH perform at Shane-Shane's amazing party FANCY. We've been practicing a lot, have a very special springtime-inducing cover, and some new looks. I think it's going to be one of our better shows. When was the last time you saw B0DYH1GH perform? More info on the party HERE.

Promo video again:

So the Pope resigned. In college I played drums in this punk band called the Thrusty Man-Tongues and our big hit song was "I Wanna Smoke Some Dope with the Pope". I sing a sort of disco version of it by myself. I haven't in a long time but maybe I ought to. It was about (of course) smoking pot with the pope, the old one. The last one, the one who died. Here's Gio Black Peter's song "Pope Sex":

This week is also Valentine's Day. I don't have a Valentine. I basically never do. I feel sort of miffed at the world of Valentine's right now. I'm angry and feeling rejected. Whatever. Fuck this candy bullshit.


- Ugly and in love (with another Ugly person) --OR-- be single and and gorgeous?

Gross right? I want to be like Murphy Brown. Perpetually bouncing back between both, never resting. Like a shark.

My favorite drag queen in New York City, Linda Simpson, just released a new song about NYC nightlife called "Party of Three":

Cute, n'est-ce pas? Somebunny better call that big-time music producer and tell him to make a single! I was gonna say it's great how the people in the song's names all rhyme; like, how cool that was, I had never noticed it. But they don't rhyme, really, it's just that the magic of Linda Simpson can make them sound like they do. I haven't been to her legendary Bingo nights in a very long time and I really want to.

God, that's what I need. A Svengali. That's what we all need. Someone to show up (appear) and tell you what to do and how to change everything. Who doesn't need that? But, you know, that's kind of magickal thinking, that thing of wanting someone to swoop in and make everything better. Because who's that gonna be, who's going to save your life for you? God? Plus, we all know that when we do find these so-called Svengalis on Earth, they usually turn out to not to be so great. It's one of those unfulfillable desires.

Really into these Comme des Garçons x Hermès scarves. There was a party at the CdG boutique in Chelsea to celebrate them. It's not the type of thing I would ever get invited to. But I want to be! I want to work in the fashion industry, I want to work for CdG. I don't know if that's possible, or what I could do to make that happen. I wonder what I would need to do, what he circumstances would be for that to happen. Curious-making. In the meantime I can pine for $1000 silk scarves.

I don't know what I could do for them as a company. Probably many things. I'm smart. I love it. I am down, so to speak with the general conceptual MO of the company.

Great advice, always. But I don't have a ton of retail experience. I've written many, many times to the administration, applying for every job they ever post. Nothing doing. Someday. Or not. Fulfillable wishes. Stay on track. I want these scarves but I also want everything.

Oh look, someone actually did take a video of my New Year's Eve performance of PJ Harvey's "reeling" at Dixon Place:

What a day. What a week.

James Franco is having an art show in Berlin and the name of his art show is GAY TOWN. I must admit that I think that's a pretty dumb name.

I think FAG CITY is a much better name.


Punk Rock Cabaret


Saw Sascha Braunig's fantastic show WRISTER, BLISTER, PLASTER at Foxy Production. On a fucking frigid Saturday afternoon, it was absolutely worth the trek to far Western Manhattan. The show is so good! Leaving me with only the merest soupçon, the smallest mouthful of bile at reading that Braunig is only one year older than I am. Her work is great. Technically scintillating, and at least a little bit perverted. Psychedelic, sexy, and crafted in such a lovingly obsessive way. It made me think a lot of the Bay Area, but for no good reason. Braunig is a Canadian and has had a mostly New York-centered (and quite successful) career. What is it about her work that made me think of the Bay Area? Psychedelia, sure. The press release's very nite description of her work as "an ambivalent nod towards Dali". That seems about right. There's a kind of anxiety produced by the work, but not a wholly unpleasant one. It felt very Oakland, or sort of post-Mission School-y. I liked it tremendously. The show is only up until 2/9/13, so if you're in New York please go see it right away.



Meandered over to Matthew Marks to see Nayland Blake's new exhibition What Wont Wreng. Blake is of course an icon of contemporary queer art. I love his work and so should you. You probably already love it, maybe without knowing it. Discovering Nayland Blake's artwork when I was in college was so exciting for me. He traverses worlds of which I do not necessarily consider myself a citizen. I want to make it plain that the reason I enjoy his work is not because I feel like it affirms something about "me". I think a lot of times certain viewers of certain types of work fall into this trap.

ASIDE: in college I studied studio art with the infamous living artist Robin Winters and it totally changed my life. One assignment was that everybody had to draw names from a class, of artists currently showing in NYC, and go to the galleries and ask for more information about the artists. I got Nayland Blake and I didn't know who he was, so I went to Matthew Marks gallery when i was 19 and asked about him. And the administrative worker I met was totally rude, and actually incredibly uninformed both about Blake's work ("Well, he's biracial and gay, so the work is about that") and about the gallery in general. I asked why he showed at Matthew Marks, and the lady said that of course Matthew chose Blake, and left it at that.  Anyway then I found out about Nayland Blake's work and I really liked it.

His new show at Matthew Marks was kind of subtly genius for me. The installations and sculptures use found objects but in a highly restrained way. It's a kind of kinky minimalist play, for me. Like, out-jocking Jock art. My favorite piece is the one above, Buddy, Buddy, Buddy an assemblage of strings of keychains and action figures, figurines. Of all sorts of different cartoon and pop culture Bear figures, strung across a mirror. It was sort of sexy/sexual, all these beefy action figures. And the thing of collecting them, right? Of gathering and arranging them. And you caught bits of your own reflection in the mirror behind the sculpture. I stood in front of it for a long time, admiring it, picking out which of the figurines were characters from The Simpsons. As soon as I walked away I realized that the collective shape was that of a beard. It's like a beard of kids' toys. I thought that was pretty genius too.

Buddy, Buddy, Buddy

I came home and took a nap and met up with Jiddy No-No at the opening for NEVERMORE at On Stellar Rays. It was a dark and gorgeous show. Les Jiderables and I took the train back to Brooklyn, where went for happy hour at the Metropolitan, which I basically never do. They were doing craft night, I forgot they did craft night, and had 2 for 1 drink tickets. Who knew? This is what you get when you start drinking at 7:30.

We took cute photos at the photoboof

Ben and Maggie came and we hung out for a bit, before they all went to dinner. I was too tired and it was snowing and although it was, in fact Saturday night, I went to bed early. I'm not ashamed. I've been really into watching these kind of dumb MOR b-comedies in foreign languages. I can't explain why.

Sunday I rehearsed my music for the Pussy Faggot performance this Friday at Public Assembly (RSVP FOR CHEAP DOOR PRICE HERE) I'm doing a cover of a Helium cover I'm kind of excited about, maybe a Huggy Bear one too. Punk Rock is my Cabaret, guys.

New Shirt, New Roisin. New Days! I've been wildly unproductive. I have a lot I need to DO.

Hey this new bar opened in Bushwick and evidently they serve CLUB MATE. I want to go there right now to get it. WHO WANTS TO COME WITH ME. It's the best. It'll be the best.


February Parties

A service Post. I'm doing at least five rad shows this month and I'd like y'all to come!

Public Assembly
60 N. 6th Street, Brooklyn, NY
Admission $10 / $6 with RSVP link: http://tinyurl.com/PF-RSVP-Feb-2013
Facebook link: http://on.fb.me/X79bvt

LEGERE ("Mondo New York")

8:00 pm | La MaMa's SQUIRTS. Curated by Dan Fishback, Starring: Becky
Eklund, Stephen Ira, Shane Shane, Buzz Slutzky, Michael Tikili,
Santiago Venegas and Yana Walton.

Open Vodka Bar 9-9:30 pm. <3 nbsp="" p="">Confirmed performers throughout the night include: MERRIE CHERRY,

*** SATANICA Reading
Bureau of General and Services Queer Division,
Hosted by Strange Loop Gallery
27 Orchard Street NYC
7:30pm $FREE
Facebook Info: http://on.fb.me/YN4ZG6

Contributors to SATANICA read at the Bureau. SATANICA is a
limited-edition publication curated by Gio Black Peter & Christopher
Stoddard for those dedicated to a life of pleasure, excess &
self-reflection. Gio Black Peter, Christopher Stoddard, Bruce
Benderson, Slava Mogutin, Max Steele and Micki Pellerano will read.

The 350 copies of SATANICA have sold out, but 25 prints of the cover
photograph (event image), Gio Black Peter's "Little Tiger on my bed,"
which is part of the "Possession" series, will be available
exclusively at this event. The photograph is a 5.25" x 7" Chromogenic
print signed on the back by Gio Black Peter. $150.00 each. First come
first served.

28 Lawton St. between Bushwick & Broadway (J to Kosciuszko)
$6 all-ages 8:00 doors 9:00 show
VIDEO TRAILER: http://youtu.be/q7mR-He61oc

DANCER for the evening!

DJ TIMOTHY ALLEN LIVING spinning the chicken dance on repeat
MATTHEW FLAMINGO serving Flirtini-wini-rita specials
SHANE SHANE weeping uncontrollably and getting kicked out of her own party

ROUND UP HOLLER GIRL: Dan Fishback, Erin Markey, Max Steele
Kelly Writers House, The University of Pennsylvania
3805 Locust Walk, PHILADELPHIA PA
6pm $FREE
Facebook link: http://on.fb.me/WQ61Ot

Denizens of the downtown art and queer performance scenes, Dan
Fishback, Erin Markey and Max Steele are feminists who like to write
and also know each other. At this event, they will read things!

The Spectrum
59 Montrose Ave.
8pm, $5

Max Steele is organizing a writers edition of MAMA SAID SPARKLE, the
Spectrum’s legendary performance series, featuring readings by BECKY
THORNTON. Cheap bar, brilliant kids giving you their genius.