Only the Future

My meeting last night with Molly about our upcoming show in Ptown was so much fun. It definitely made my day. I love her. I guess I feel a little bit better. In some ways. I finished reading this Anaïs Nin book last night, The Novel of the Future. It had taken me forever to finish. It's a lot about creativity, fiction, psychoanalysis, and postmodernism. She really hates Burroughs and Warhol, and even though I like them, I appreciate the reasons she hates them. I love Nin, obviously. But she's kind of a rich kid. Like, she deplores postmodernists for reproducing garbage (I'm paraphrasing) instead of imagining a more beautiful world. And, to me, it's like, if you grow up in garbage, maybe you think that's beautiful, you know? What beauty is is often dictated by capitalist and fairly cruel imaginations and forces. But I see her point about being disgusted by the idea that now we are to take billboards and hang them on our walls as art. There's a kind of glib swagger in being able to bear more and more ugliness, a kind of bragging rights of saying "Well I like that advertisement on a wall. I don't see the difference between that and art." I think that's maybe an unhealthy way to make that point.

Had strange and intense dreams about being in a restaurant. The joy of getting to cook food and sort of perform, and the paralyzing fear of a group of hungry people to feed. I think it's because I was talking with Paps over the weekend about some delicious thing she cooked (kale quesadillas?) and she thought "Someday, when i open my restaurant..." and I've also been watching a lot of "Orange is the new Black" which is kind of a lot about cooking. Such a bummer that Kate Mulgrew is so opposed to abortion. I feel like I didn't sleep very well last night. I had that kind of fucked up panic attack which only happens during insomnia nights, when the dread of not getting enough sleep keeps me awake. I'm too busy worrying about the fact that I'm not sleeping to sleep. But I guess I passed out at a certain point. I feel sort of fucked up and sick.

On the train up from 14th street this morning, I took the A and it ran next to the E. Pulling into 34th street, I noticed how the trains ran alongside each other and seemed to slow down and speed up. it's vaguely autistic, but something about the movement was really pretty to me. Maybe I hadn't woken up yet. Not fully.

My office is across the street from a methadone clinic and a lot of homeless people and people on drugs hang out on the corner. This morning there was a crowd of folks, and a woman who looked like she had been living on the street for a while was yelling to her friend as I walked by: "I'm so happy. I am so happy that I'm here, that I'm alive, that I have my life." I felt like such a chump.

I was sort of facebook stalking this girl I went to college with and really envying her. She lives in a non-New York City, has what seems like a stable job and boyfriend. Maybe she's married. She has a car and an apartment and insurance and seems happy. She visits friends on long weekends. She was so sweet. I saw something she wrote recently about taking an older family member to the emergency room (everyone's fine!) but she wrote so eloquently about handling her business. It's hard to describe, but I wish I was so together. I wish I was so smart and together and creative that I didn't fall apart when I have an afternoon to myself. I'm so envious of people who are able to more or less just get on with their lives. That must be so nice. To not worry. To be stable. I used to think she was sort of square when we went to college together, because she is mostly (I think?) heterosexual, and probably comes from a wealthier family than I do. But I think it's ok to be square. I think it's ok to be happy, to be not freaked out. I think I am fraying my nerves lately, and I am worried about doing permanent damage to them.

Now that I think about it, is there a kind of damage, decay or injury which is not permanent? We heal, we recover, but we can never go back in time.

Time-travel exists already. I feel entirely confident saying this. It's just that the catch with time-travel, as we currently have it, is that it only goes in one direction: to the future.

I have a fun meeting tonight. Everything feels like it needs to be answered or understood right away, and the myriad of horoscopes I check every week all tell me more or less the same thing these days, which is that it doesn't need to happen this week. That I need to chill out. That I need to not go to the future, just yet. If patience is a virtue, is impatience a vice? Is anxiety like a drug? I suppose so, since so many drugs provoke anxiety.

I've been thinking a lot about bossa nova and tropicalia recently. I love this song so much. It sounds so sweet and nice, and it is, mostly. It's about springtime. But it's also really dark. You can see what the song is about here.

Thinking about the Ancient Greek idea of Cthonos. That the Earth is a physical reality and a metaphorical spirit. It is at once the symbol and material of fertility, the source of life, but it is also the physical proof of death, the flowerbed and the graveyard.



I can't lie: there's a lot to be excited about. There's a lot going on, a big wide future to look forward to and a pretty fantastic present moment to try to sink one's sloth hooks into. Things are objectively alright, I suppose. But in the spirit of not lying, I feel like I'm practicing, again, admitting how miserable I am. Pretty Fucking Miserable (PFM) actually. I think I'm getting sick, and I feel really awful about it. Sometime last week I think I just started falling down inside. I couldn't sleep well or feel rested. I have some kind of respiratory something, likely a result of smoking so much recently. I can't think straight. I feel anxious and nervous and angry all the time. Getting through the week felt really impossible. No amount of rest of relaxation or meditating or going to the gym or shutting up or asking for help or drinking or not drinking seemed to make any difference. BY Friday afternoon I could barely sit upright or stay awake at work. I came home, intending to go to the gym and go out for the night, but I passed out at 6pm. I woke up at 8 and laid in my bed moaning about the fact that I felt too shitty to leave the house. I ate some anxiety medication and watched TV and fell asleep and feel like a real fucking failure for it. Saturday I went to the gym out to lunch and went window shopping, still feeling a little bit woozy. I tried to go to this reading in Bushwick but I got there right as it ended. I'm such an asshole. I hung out with Paps and PLD and Teebs and Lola for a minute and that did feel pretty good. PLD and I went to a party in Manhattan that we got an e-mail invite about RSVPing to, so the frosty queen at the door checked our names off the list and sent is to the entry line downstairs where we waited for 10 minutes, only to be told that the cover charge was $20. But it included a free drink. So no thanks, guys. Jesus. We took the train with Miss Gerry Visco, which was kind of the highlight, then went back to Wburg and I got food and passed out at 3:30 am, fairly sober. I woke up at 1pm today and I feel like hell. I Went grocery shopping and that feels like all I can do.

There's a story I need to finish this week. I need to practice singing because I'm performing on Wednesday night at The Spectrum. I'm really excited about that, actually. I think I'm gonna sing two songs (covers) form the new place I'm singing from. If I'm not still sick. Please come! It's cheap and will be fun, I think/hope.

And every night this week I have a meeting or an engagement or something to do. I don't know when I can go to the gym or cook dinner for myself or get to bed at a reasonable hour. This gives me vertigo. I just went on vacation. I don't know what needs to happen for me to feel okay or chilled out. I need a vacation form vacation. I guess as I'm getting older, my ability to cope is sort of waning. Or just deal. God. And they're all fun things I have going on, I should be excited. But it's actually hard to breathe right now, and I'm really upset about everything. I need some help in making some changes to my life but I don't know what the changes are and I don't know what help I need and I'm not convinced that sitting with it for long enough is working, but what can you do? I'm going to a meeting in the East Village in an hour then ordering take-out and trying to fall asleep before 11pm. I don't know where my life went.

A series of things happened, I guess. I broke up with my first and most serious boyfriend of not even a year, I had a really intense and shameful psychedelic trip, Amy Winehouse died, someone I love very much had a near-death accident. Shit changed, my life left. Listening to or making music, watching or being watched, everything started to ebb and I suppose that's okay. Maybe it started earlier, when I had my tooth accident and then got a staph infection on my face. Maybe it happened before that, when all of a sudden the life I was trying to make for myself was, I realized just making me a target for ridicule from the journalists and bloggers I foolishly wanted to impress. Maybe it started earlier than that... I was reading an article about that writer who writes about her rampant drug use. I think it's so stupid. Why aren't we talking about the fact that she doesn't have to work for a living. Anyone can sit around all day taking drugs, but she's not writing about how she could be anyone. Maybe if she wrote more about that then I would read it. Who even cares.

Thank god, when I get fucked up, I look online and there's usually a new Shannon Wright record. It's usually in the summer, right when I need it. I think a lot about the summer after I first moved here when I was temping on 42nd Street (I talk about this a lot) and listening to Maps of Tacit during summer rainstorms and it really did save my life, I'm pretty sure. And things felt so dire then! Because scott panther wanted to fuck other people, that was it. I really felt like everything fell apart and it was because of that. How silly.


ENCOURAGER Outtake: Strategy for Interruption


Y’know. I’ve had some bad things happen to me, in my real life, too. Okay? Alright? I’ve had some awful things happen. Would you like to hear about them? No, I don’t think so. I don't think you would like that. Okay? Consider that a warning, (smile) and a threat. Let that hang over your head. Let that be the carrot. Or let that be the anvil, hanging over your head, okay?

Yeah, actually while I'm on the topic. I want to say to all you Wile E. Coyotes out there in the house tonight, just, for a second, to say hi, I know you’re out there. Hello boys. You can never catch this (taps chest) roadrunner. But you can chase me off a cliff. Let’s go.


My wrist is sprained (it feels that way) and I don't know why. Trying to write tonight. It's so hard! Who wants to make sense any more. Do that seduction thing. You know? We know how it goes. I want to talk about the time when I was so unbelievably bored I felt really smothered by the possibility of literally anything (literally everything) and it was like a head-rush. Asphyxiation. I mean, it's hot-- that sober appraisal of the landscape around you. High noon, you know? So trying to write, distracting myself. A belly full of leaves and I have the sudden an intense urge to play the cello at 11pm to learn the song by that pop star everyone hates (it's so offensive and dirty bad trash). These kids, y'know, they sing Top 40 and it's camp or it's a play in alienation or it's a display of earnestness but not yknow for me. I'm too uncute too old to be cute, I don't want to make people laugh or think I want to clock it. I suppose I consider myself, really, a journalist. A reporter. Wrist hurts okay but not so bad to keep me from playing and I can still tune it pretty much by ear.

Much if Any Thing

I'm too old for this but I have a mysterious bruise on my right arm, on my bicep. I got too drunk this weekend and made some less than sound decisions including buying so many drinks for my friends and for myself. But it's okay.

I have so many things to work on! This is exciting, but also frustrating. I get vertigo so easily. I'm singing next week, then the week after that (twice) and doing all sort of shows around town in a number of different permutations. B0DYH1GH is performing a Tori Amos tribute concert on 8/18 at Joe's Pub. I'm performing on my Birthday 8/7 at the Pyramid Club. I'm excited but I feel so stressed out today.

Maybe I'm still hungover and just need to go to the gym. I feel like I'm reminding myself of some things I shouldn't have the luxury of forgetting. I'm mad at myself for getting so freaked out. And I'm mad at myself for not changing or being so radically different as to avoid falling into the same traps. I feel like, today, I'm stressed out about the same shit I always get stressed out about. I resent having to share stuff (love, attention) with other people. Even people I like. And I have a hard time taking responsibility. Like, I don't want to be held accountable for things that are out of my control. I get frustrated because I find myself apologizing for and agonizing over how to fix things that are totally outside of my purview. I wish I had a better sense of what's worth freaking out about, which is to say not much if any thing.

I keep thinking, you know, to try to remember not to worry so much. I probably told you this before. I never think that worrying is a worthwhile investment of time, and yet I habitually worry myself to the point of exhaustion. It's a way, I guess, of just not paying attention. Why make a decision when you can just agonize of making a decision. Right now I'm reading like four books simultaneously. I feel like this sums up my mental state. I'm not really invested in anything right now. I feel sort of rootless, and it's not uncomfortable. I was trying, over the weekend, to have roots or act like how I used to act when things felt more important. But I was just going through the motions. It's nice to swim. It's nice to breathe. I feel like: who can ask for more than that? Who needs to stay so connected, attached.

I did have fun this weekend, too. Not just drinking. I am a grown up. Friday I hung out with PLD and Sam and Paps and Lola, and Saturday I hung out with Jiddy, it was pretty great. Sunday I met up with Sam and Khaela at the Rusty Knot but to be honest I was too hungover to have much fun. I had a beer that they served with salt and lime juice and hot sauce. It was so disgusting. I loved it. I love disgusting snacks.

I have a lot on my plate. For this summer and for the next couple of months. It's a daily struggle not to get freaked out and shut down by things. Something feels "off". Maybe I need to sit down and meditate (definitely). I got this iPhone app that wakes me up at the optimal point in my sleep cycle, but that's almost always 20 minutes earlier than I need to wake up, so I end up snoozing and thus negating the whole point of the thing by waking up in the middle of a nasty dream. A happy dream.

I want to go grocery shopping and go to the gym and eat a salad and write my new stories for the zine (my zine and other people's), but I think I may end up watching more TV online. Ugh.

Maybe I just have a case of the Mondays! I've been listening to that Speedy Ortiz album Major Arcana a lot. What's a good new indie rock record with mean female voices? 

In the summer I get bummed out and stressed out and I only want to listen to Shannon Wright. 


In The Car Now

So lovely to see our delightful conversation blogged about on the legendarily crucial blog of the divine Miss Doctor Vaginal Crème Davis. And now, the recording of our conversation is online! Special thanks to Manuel Schubert for recording this, and for La JohnJoseph and Stevie Hanley for being part of it too. You can listen to our chit chat session here:

We obviously cover a lot of ground here, from Los Angeles, to Movies, Records, Boys, Stars, News from the USA. Everything. I'm glad I got the chance to ask Miss Davis about her vocals on my new favorite song, "Girls Like Us" by The Julie Ruin. You can hear the Vag vocal version HERE. I'm so excited to see them perform again in September, and for their debut album Run Fast to come out. I am pre-ordering my copy today, you can do so too HERE.

Oh shit I also forgot that they released a music video last week, for their debut single "Oh Come On":

I totally love this song and I think this video is so cool. For some reason the third verse ("First you walk / And then you get to talk...") sounded so familar and I couldn't place it, but the rap/flow of lyrics sort of reminds me of Babes in Toyland's "Handsome & Gretel"? I mean that as such a complement. There's a kind of really crunchy punk rock rap thing in both. I'm so into it.

I forgot that I totally brained myself at Ficken3000 in Berlin last week. There was a low-hanging piece of wood used to draw a curtain in front of the backstage room (stock-room) and when i was running backstage to get changed, I cracked my forehead on it, leaving a pretty gigantic welt. It hurt, a lot. But I like that look. I used to make myself up for performances to look like I had a black eye.

Last night the power in the front of our apartment went out, and the super isn't being super helpful in fixing it. Deeply frustrating. Mercury retrograde?


Maple thorn (except)

Went to the acupuncturist and told her that I have too much of something. Magnetism. I'm off, I'm too charged or something. Out of balance with myself or the world around me or both. I have something wrong with me that makes me a target. I mean, it makes me too much of a target. There's something about me that drives people -- men -- crazy. It makes the want to attack me, hurt me, contradict me, stop me, chip me, hurt me. There's some involuntary spark I have that causes a knee-jerk reflex to extinguish it.

"What makes you think that it's a problem with you?"

Well, because I don't want to have to constantly defend myself, justify my plumage. If they want to pluck it out, let them. I can't live my life fighting to hold on to my hair.

"But aren't you fighting now?"

I suppose.

"Hold still."

"Okay, how about now? How does that feel?"

The same.


"How about now?"

Different. Wow. Thanks.


Dragging My Heart Around

I'm so country that even being in the international terminal at JFK was a severe thrill for Miss Thing. I desultorily read a copy of the new i-D and drank some white wine while I waited for my flight. Too nervous to sleep on the plane, really. I kind of dozed.

So then on Tuesday morning I made my way to Stevie's fantastic apt in Mitte. We drank tea from fancy 24k gold cups and saucers. I was very happily reunited with La JJ. Stevie took us to Schöneberg to meet Wonderful D (1-D, One Directsh) and his dog. WD took us in a very long cab ride to a lake at the outskirts of the city. We walked through a gorgeous, very strange (to me) trailer park along the lake. A kind of a strange village. 1D did a secret work errand while Stevie and I peed in the woods. We had a picnic by the lake with good cheeses, wine, and smoked a lot, until we were quite overtaken by mosquitoes. We took another epick cab ride back to the apartment to change. We were treated to a truly amazing, fantastic Italian dinner at the restaurant downstairs. Hilarious gay couple owners. Wonderful first night in town.

Wednesday we woke up very early to have breakfast with Vaginal Davis and Manuel at the gay cemetery. We recorded the talk and as soon as it's online I'll share it with you. Right after our meeting I found out that Ms. Davis has been immortalized in comic strip form over at Bitch magazine, which is adorable. Back home to Mitte where we were treated to a very nice Pan-Asian German lunch with the Solar. We went down the street to the new Berlin CdG store, thankfully just a few meters from Stevie's abode. JJ and I went  to Shwuz to pick up fliers for his show (this friday!). We stopped for green beer (Waldmeister) and went thrift shopping. Would you ever think that I would like green beer? I do, in Berlin. That night we went to a local gay bar called the Sharon Stonewall. Kind of a let down, but we had it to ourselves. Mitte is crazy. The echt-professional streetwalkers in matching see-through platform heels and fannypacks and corsets, calmly negotiating with expats. I love the darkness of the streets there. Not at all foreboding.

Thursday we went out for Mexican food, Mission-themed burritos. I know. I actually really liked my Berlin burrito, though, it came with vegan meat and peanut sauce? It was called a Vegan Lover, which I thought was sort of cute. But then what? I forget. We went to some parks, met up with Krampf and Joey Hansom at the Tempelhof field. Gorgeous afternoon and so much greenery. Thursday night I performed at Chantal's House of Shame.

There had been a slight misunderstanding as to where I was to meet her. I didn't know there actually was an office, so had been hiding out with La JJ in the room marked "backstage" where cute boys with emo flat-ironed haircuts and well-stocked fanny packs (what is it with the fanny packs?) tried to tempt us with purchases but I was on a budget and terrified. That backstage room was where, on my first trip to Berlin, La JJ and I had been misinformed about what controlled substance we were dealing with, and then (accidentally?) locked up in a metal cage for a few hours. Anyway eventually we found the actual office, reunited with Chantal who was a bit miffed for my tardiness (Entschuldigung!) and we headed to the stage. I did a few songs including a new Teena Marie cover, I think people liked it. Chantal said that I sang better than I had in the past, when I had been performing in my underwear. I feel that I'm coming up in the world, truly. Visited with Neon Ladosha and Nuclear family at the club after the show. So much fun! We got paid and out of the club before 4:30am with for Berlin is sort of miraculous. Such a fun night.

Friday I went to Tiergarten to meet up with Pash(ly). We drank Rosé by a lake and caught up, discussing art and politics, theory, etc. She's such a genius and a true inspiration in my life. I wish I could share more of the knowledge she revealed to me but I don't want to! I want to keep it private! Nyeh-nyeh! But a gorgeous, dreamy afternoon. We were starving and later went out for food in the mall. It was kind of amazing. The junk food there in Germany is so much better because unlike in the US they don't make their citizens eat poisons. Friday evening we hosted a jazzy cocktail party at the Mitte apartment with so many dear heart faces new and old. I was in heaven, hanging out with Krampf and Iwaijla and Miss Sophie and new friends Candy and Anna and Christa and Jack and John and Mary Beth and just everybody. Just a fantastic night. Staying in, even! The downstairs neighbors complained so we moved the party to the sitting room, were joined by a gorgeous boy ballet dancer who casually bragged about being able to fellate himself (kill me). Iwaijla made a cucumber salad then put whiskey on it. It was a great night. We watched Fantasia with Stevie's projector on one of the giant palatial apartment walls.

Saturday I don't actually remember what we did. Clean up? Stevie did most all the cleaning and La JJ did all the cooking and I just loafed around like an asshole. What I know I did was drink a whole bottle of Club Maté and smoke a whole pack of Gauloises Blondes, because I did that shit every single day and don't for a second regret it. We also listened to Stevie Nick's Belladonna a lot. A lot. Oh, I know, I took a very long walk to Kreuzberg to go to King of Falafel, the best falafel place in the world that I know of. Kind of a spiritual pilgrimage for me. Ate on the street like a weirdo. Loved it. We tried to go to see Miss Travis' reading, but we got there too late. We got to hang out at the gallery with some folks. Iwajla and La JJ and Miss Stevie and I went to another opening across town, a group show, that seemed sort of too NY art-prank-y for me. Lots of Seapunk and Jogging-ische influences. I did not fly all the way over there to see that, you guys. Iwajla took us to the bar next door, which she told us is actually the oldest bar in Berlin. It certainly seemed that way. I am guessing it was Americana-themed. They only played American records. One of the waitresses looked just like Meryl Streep, I couldn't get over it. La JJ saw a pair of ancient German granny crones sitting near the front, chainsmoking and drinking some red drink the color of blood. He immediately asked what they were drinking: house-made cherry wine. We ordered the same. It was fantastic, it did taste like a hangover. Soon the bartender made a long announcement auf Deutsch that that night they were having a summer party and that everyone would be getting a present and that they hoped we all had a good time. They passed out noisemakers, maracas and honking plastic horns to the crowd. They played swing music and the bartender changed into a gold tuxedo and danced on the bar. They lit fireworks underneath the bar, right in front of all the booze. Not just sparklers but actual fireworks. The bar filled up with smoke and everyone loved it. It was populated with very old German people as well as some younger expats and queermos filtering in from the neighborhood. I noticed a confederate flag on the wall, next to a poster for the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I am always nervous that I'm secretly wandering into Nazi territory but was assured that wasn't the case. We hung out there for a bit, actually, then outside the bar where more friends showed up. Such a nice fun time! We went to KreuzKoln to pick up Miss Sophie, then bounced around bars which all seemed kind of blah until settling it at Rose's, which no one but me seemed to be so impressed by. Much fun, a bit low-key. Went to bed very early by Berlin standards.

Sunday I was really feeling the Merc retro feelings! La JJ and I went to Museum Island where we failed to sneak into one museum with stolen passes, but did get into a second where they didn't even check them, go figure. We went to dinner with an American friend of Thee Irish Horse's, a kind of strange Chinese-ische food. Fantastic. Home for a second, then to Ficken3000 for Pork. Which was SO MUCH FUN. Sadly Miss Brian Tennessee couldn't make it as she had a cold. I performed with this amazing artist from PDX called DUBAIS. She was so good! I'm totally obsessed! New obsession! And Sara Adorable DJed! So much fun! I did another set, I think it went just OK. Got to see some more Berlin homies. At least one 1990s rock mega-icon came. I don't know if they watched my set or not or what they thought of it, so I have to assume they were deeply moved. I did get a bunch of positive feedback from the crowd, people liked how "New York" I was, how confident, how I didn't seem to take any shit, etc. It's insane to get any feedback at all, least of all in Berlin. Fuck. One guy said I was a much better queer rappers than the other ones he's seen. That was a highlight of the vacation, I gotta say. I fucking love PORK, it's the god damned best thing ever. We danced all night, took in brief glimpses of the much-famed darkroom, yikes. We left about four or so, once the trains started running again, but on the way home Stevie told us about a charming little spot at Alexanderplatz, technically on the way home. Told it was the oldest gay bar in Berlin, it was very small. We drank many many many Jagermeister shots and sniffed RUSH and drank Budweiser, but the good Budweiser started by the other Budweiser brother, not the nasty stuff we have in the States. I learned so much! Soon enough it was after 6am and the sun was up and people were on their way to work, and we were sitting at the tiny tiny bar singing along quite loudly to ABBA's "The Winner Takes it All". Back to the train station, we got the first, freshest chocolate croissants from the kiosk. Burnt my tongue on molten Nutella I want to stay that way forever. Went home and I guess slept, a little?

Monday was hard, guys. My last day in town! I dragged La JJ to that fantastic vegetarian restaurant in Mehringdamm I like so much. JJ had an audition, I did some errands. JJ and I went to KaDeWe to eat fancy cakes at the counter upstairs like we always do. Came home and Stevie cooked us a really awesome dinner. Wonderful D came back over, brought a bottle of champagne and we smoked and and we watched How to Marry a Millionaire projected on the wall. An oddly apt metaphor for the week, I can't even tell you. It was magickal.

Yesterday I got up too early, went to Tegel where they had no reservation for me, but then put me on an earlier flight to Munich. I spent much time at the Munich smoking lounges before making my way back to New York. Feeling under-slept and yet somehow ecstatic and energized, I went to the gym right when I got home. A pair of guys set up bongos down the street, under a tree, I had to fight to keep from dancing like some kind of freak when i walked by. Feeling happy and relaxed and missing Stevie and La JJ so much. I wondered how I could feel so excited and awake, when I passed out at 9pm halfway through my takeout pad see ew.

Everything is alright. Great, in fact. I'm glad to be back except for the insane heat, but I miss Berlin so much. I had some minor revelations, just in time for my birthday super soon. I am going for it. I feel good.



Tomorrow I'm flying to Berlin for a week of Vacation. I'm staying with La JohnJoseph and Stevie, just like before. And I couldn't be more excited. I'm performing Thursday night at Chantal's House of Shame and Sunday night at PORK at Ficken3000, you can find those through Google. I don't know how much internet I'll have or when.

I had the best Fourth of July visit with Bobo last week. The heat in New York has been so oppressive. It's been killing me. I feel like this video Cole made.

I literally feel like I'm going insane from the heat, just like Joyce does. Have I posted that video before? Probably.

All I did today was wash my clothes, moan, drink ice water, buy magazines for the flight, and visit Erin and Becca for some air conditioning and lemon ice water and white wine and blueberries. And 1990s summer jams courtesy of DJ Bevin's Spotify. I feel like a puddle. No, a crusty pile of salt. I ordered takeout and tried out these crazy Italy Towels Pash(ly) told me about and I feel like I want to sleep early. Get up early. Freak out about the flight, and then get on it.

Missed out on some fun parties this weekend. But went to some other ones. I'm always in a rush, and right now I'm on vacation and that for me means staying inside the air conditioning right now and sleeping a lot.

This is a picture of me singing “Ooo La La La" by Teena Marie on Gay Pride at the Bureau of General Services Queer Division, for Shane Shane’s fantastic event SHIT HITS FAN. I wanted to do something that portrayed the ambivalence I feel about the official Pride spectacle, and the conversation around that. And I love that song and it was really hard to sing and I hit almost all of the notes. I would give myself a B+. A B+ or maybe an A-. But that's what I'd always give myself. That's what I've always been given.

I feel like there's a lot of back-tracking or repeating or relearning. I guess I feel like there's a lot of remembering. I've had an insane headache all day (I can't tell if it's a hangover or not I'm on vacation). I just want to go. A lot of remembering. It's great.

Excited to drink Club Mate and smoke Gauloises and see my friends and eat falafel and cake and spaetzel and stay up late and go dancing and everything.


Well of Nostalgia

Some kind of weird sciatica leg thing, I don't know. I made such a big fucking fuss over getting a yoga ball at my office desk, then another one at home. But yesterday when I sat down to work after having been out of the office for three days, an insane pain in my left leg, underneath my left butt muscle. Isn't a yoga ball supposed to make that better? What is wrong with my body? I'm in a regular chair today, feeling ever so much like the quitter I fear myself to be. My leg still hurts though. What's wrong with me? I feel like I'm falling apart, or like I'm getting sick. I made a list:
- Leg/butt pain.
- I bit my tongue (twice). It hurts to talk or chew.
- I have a sore throat.
- I have a tiny pimple on my ear that I can't pop.
- One of my lymph nodes is really swollen, right behind my ear.
- I bumped my elbow so bad at work. I realize now that this is why all of my work shirts (my beloved +J shirts) all split on the left elbow: because of my desk/my posture. I'm miserable.

I am going to Berlin next week and I cannot repeat cannot get sick. I am taking care of myself with full-steam. Tonight I am going to the gym and then going to meditation class if I have my druthers.

I feel bad. Tuesdays.

On the plus side, I've been so obsessed with that Heart album Bebe le Strange, alive and excited with the possibilities of rediscovering music, records, bands, careers, worlds. How many cheesy bands from the past are there, hiding somewhere, waiting for me to pour my devotion into them? Who else wants to ride with me into the past and then lose our safety harnesses? Throw our compasses overboard? Chew fistfuls of tin foil and ruin our nice futuristic dental work. Who wants to get married? By which I mean, throw ourselves down the well of nostalgia and then claw our way back to the present together. This is romance. This is what romance is.

Physical discomfort is so awful. So unbearable. I have to remind myself that mortification of the flesh does in a way bring us in congress with the divine. I suppose.