Having skipped spring, she finds herself tumbling down the rabbit-hole of summertime. The hot sweaty blur of New York City. Doing the ritualistic sniff-test of her clothing before accoutering herself in the morning. Dousing with Florida Water to maintain her hygiene across multiple planes of existence.

Been going to so many awesome shows lately. Living out my dreams of an adult life in the metropolis, where I could see as many concerts as my time, energy and money allows. The first thing to run out is my energy.

Miss Khaela bringing the gorgeous rage at Pussy Faggot.

Had some relatives in town, relatively who like to live well, and they got some awesome treats for an awesome cocktail party I was invited to.

Manolo Blahnik ice cream

Been partying with people a little bit older than I am, and really feeling it. It's not even about people being older than me, or a specific age. Just, this thing of partying with peopel who are grown-ups. People who are not out to prove how desirable or alive they are. Or at least not trying to prove it in the same way. People who flip out less, and flip out more intentionally. People who are responsible with their substances, the laws of nature. People who have better style. People who already know all the techniques for seduction. People who you don't have to bundle into a taxicab at the end of the night. I like feeling alive and grown-up. And Present.

Last Saturday night I saw PLANNINGTOROCK at the DFA Records anniversay extravaganza. There were a ton of performers, the space was gigantic beyond belief. A truly overwhelming crowd. I was there for PTR, man, and I was not disappointed. I can't believe she never plays in New York. She played her newest hits, as well as some favorites off of W. Nothing from the first record, which was sad for me but which I understand. Incredibly inspiring for its difference. Nothing else sounds like PTR. Janine Rostron is a true visionary. I feel really emotional and queasy about her work; like I'm scared or worried someone's going to take it away from me. It feels like a security blanket? In the sense that her, doing her own thing, plumbing the depths of her imagination, is a call to arms. It's like a dare. She makes stuff that's so complex, thought-out, curious, and thoroughly gorgeous it makes me excited to be alive right now.

It was such an awesome show. The next day we went to the Metropolitan BBQ, a time-honored summertime tradition. Dig this, though, kids: they've put little nails around the flowerpots to keep drunk gay people from accidentally sitting there, ruining the flowers. I think they should take off the flowerpots altogether. I resent the yuppiefication of everything, least of all a gay dive bar. To be treated like a common pigeon!

Though of course I suppose I could be compared to any number of less-favorable animals. Pigeons are fine. I might sit wherever I want anyway. A savvy friend of mine found a workaround for this problem anyway, natch. We hightailed it over to the Knitting Factory to see Jess Paps' band HEAVENS GATE and dear hear Matt Elkin's band the SoSoGlos perform. It was so wonderful.

Jess brings the rage.

SSG's emotional strategies. Wonderful fun. We got to hang out backstage in the green room with the band. What is it about aging that makes me exceedingly comfortable around younger heterosexual punk boys. They no longer scare me (as much). Maybe they just don't scare me if we're sharing free booze and pizza. Set, you know, and setting.

I have a great deal of other activity to report but will save it for next time. Been thinking a lot lately, though, about how no one likes to be around in the present moment. Especially gay people. I feel like queers are so often bothered that there's either too much history, or not enough. That there are too many labels, or too few. That the past is too important and yet also unimaginably opaque, while the future has never been more necessary, and has also never been further out of reach. I feel like the Mindfulness Meditation class I've been going to at The Spectrum makes me think about things like this: what if we dealt with the present moment? What if understanding that accepting yourself and the world around you at the exact moment you're reading this is not, in fact, a defeat. It's not deferring your dreams to acknowledge that they're a long way off. It's not disrespectful to the past to forget it sometimes. Queers are so obsessed with the past, and so anxious and nervous about our future. But in the meantime, we're all here, failing to capitalize on the perfection of today.

But, you know, maybe I'm projecting a little bit.

One last thing is that it's been so insanely hot and humid here, and I like many of my curly-haired sisters, have been battling the frizz. MY preferred technique for dealing with hot humid summer weather and curly hair is BAOBAB OIL. It is amazing, I feel like my life is better because I started rubbing into my hair after the shower.

Although to be honest I did kind of go overboard yesterday and am breaking out on my forehead. Learn from my mistakes, children.

I'm so exhausted! And tonight is another party night. I'm running home after work to take a disco-less nap (my spiritual parents told me it's not really a disco nap unless you take drugs when you wake up, natch) and then re-dress myself for another night on the town.

Stay cool.

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