Stay Dry

I would, you know, like to think of myself as someone for whom the weather doesn't completely dictate their mood, but that is a fantasy. I felt pretty much oppressed by the heat this weekend, bedraggled by the rain. It was a particular comfort to watch the sun burst through the clouds yesterday evening, standing as I was at a swanky queer art fundraising party on the roof of BAM, sipping as I was mojito nĂºmero cuatro. Gorgeous, right?

The party was a ramp-up to the fantastic event happening for Gay Pride at BAM: EVERYBOOTY. Organized by SPANK and Earl Dax and Hey Queen, it features a ton of amazing performers, including a FAG CITY reading I organized with Becca Blackwell, Juliana Huxtable, Sam McKinniss and Khaela Maricich. The reading kicks off the night. it's going to be amazing. You should definitely buy tickets in advance! I have a discount code which I posted on my FB page, or can e-mail you if you like (billycheer@gmail.com). This is your advanced notice.

It has been a tremendously exciting week.

Last week I went to the NYU Fales library to celebrate the release of the Riot Grrrl Collection, published by the Feminist Press. It featured a panel with Lisa Darms, Ramdasha Bikceem, Johanna Fateman and Kathleen Hanna. It was so cool. I've seen some of the material collected in the book before, but definitely not most of it. It's a fantastic compendium, a way cool resource. It kind of makes me feel old, too? But in a good way. A great summer read. The panel discussion was interesting too, I feel like it's sort of surreal to try to relay the impact of zine culture in a sort of post-Internet world. One person (zinester/zine-star Kate Wadkins, of the totally essential zine International Girl Gang Underground) asked the panelists if they could give advice to their younger selves, what would it be? I thought this was a really interesting question, and Johanna Fateman's response, about giving herself permission to make art, to be a writer, was really inspiring. She said (I'm not directly quoting because I don't remember) that anyone who tells you that making art is frivolous or not important is stupid, and that the reason people say that is because they're mad that they're not making art. I don't know; this is basic, this is simple, but it's meaningful to me to hear an artist whose work I admire say something like that? My whole experience of Riot Grrrl (happening, as it did, so far after RG "ended" or whatever) was a call to arms in terms of making your own culture, so it's nice to be reminded of that message. There was a very nice vegetarian reception after the panel. I had a blast.

Oh my gosh, speaking of Riot Grrrl and herstory, today is the birthday of one of my favorite Riot Grrrl records, Bratmobile's legendary Pottymouth.

Happy 20th Birthday!

Pottymouth is probably the vinyl record that I listen to more often than any other one in my collection. Still. It's totally a classic. I love Bratmobile so much.

After the fun vegetarian reception, I ran over to Bowery Electric to see Miss Lydia Lunch perform with her new group, RETROVIRUS, made up of No Wave heavyweights, performing polished gems from Miss Lydia's back catalog.

Shitty photo.

OBVIOUSLY it was amazing and I almost wept. I never in a million years thought I'd get to see Lydia perform any of the 8-Eyed Spy stuff, "Shotgun Wedding", anything from 13 13. All of which was reinvented, stripped down, and gorgeous. Her voice is awesome. I absolutely never thought I'd get to see her sing  "Mechanical Flattery" (that's why I took the liberty to cover the song myself, duh). It was such a really magickal and special night.

And then the next fucking night, I went to see Lydia Lunch host a reading at the Pyramid Club, which was ALSO fantastic. Miss Geraldine Winnifred Visco was there, covering the event for a blog she writes for. She  gives a much better description than I could, and generously quotes me waxing rhapsodic on my feelings for Lydia Lunch. As if you didn't know. 

After the LL reading at Pyramid, I ran over to Julius' Bar for Mattachine, the coolest party in NYC, where a certain star of my favorite movie which begins in "P" and ends in "-arty Girl" performed a scintillating apocalyptic monologue, to the collected delight of all gathered.

Another epick Thursday night, right. I did beg off early just after that (though I was having too too much fun with my co-editors at Gay Sunshine Press, Mister PLD and Mister Boogers, respectively), because I had to save my energy for Friday, when I had the foresight and the good luck and the $20 to spend to go see Cibo Matto at Littlefield.

I'm such a bad photographer. I don't know why I even bother. The Cibo Matto show was soo good! I can't believe it's been like three years (?!) since I saw them before. And like ten before that. Littlefield is such a cool, small, well-run venue. It wasn't crowded, the audience was really happy. The new songs are so cool. Miho intimated that they're kind of going in a new direction. The new album isn't going to be so much about food as, based on the new bits we heard, about ghosts and a hotel where the ghosts are. It sounds weird, and it is weird, but it's also exciting. Nobody sounds like Cibo Matto. The new songs are really catchy and unexpected and groovy and heavy in a way that feels consistent with their sound but also new. I can't wait for the record to come out. We weren't given a hint as to when that would be, though. Fingers crossed.

Saturday, I hid from the sun and ate dumplings and kind of wasted my time, until the evening when I met up with Steven and Max B. to go to dear heart Ben Rimalower's now-legendary show Patti Issues at the Duplex. It just keeps getting better and better! I had a fantastic time. I love Ben and the show so much, and so did my friends. After the show we went to Marie's Crisis, then the Boiler Room (where you always run into so many friends, on the quest for cheap drinks), then sneaked home.

Sunday I also avoided the Sun, and the rain, and made it out in the afternoon to Tompkins Square Park for the HOWL Festival's LowLife performance, featuring Downtown and East Village legends saluting iconic East Village Goddesses. Some highlights include the always-motivating Bridget Everett, singing "I'm Waiting For My Man":

And Mx. Justin Vivian Bond, reading words by Cookie Mueller.

Fucking awesome. After that we met up with super Jill and Amber and Nath-Ann and went for drinks, then to a very nice rooftop party where I had too much summer fun, but did make it home before it started raining.

Excited to go to Meditation class tonight!

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