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.

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