I really identify with this video. I feel like that's me, you know?

Wildly unproductive weekend, but restful. Friday night I went to see darling boy Sam McKinniss read at Macie Gransion. I got there just barely in time to see him read, and then I high-tailed it back to Brooklyn to go to my old college friend's engagement party. I saw a bunch of old friends, and a couple old frenemies (yikes!) and had the best time hanging out with Miss Jiddy No-No and Miss Jess Paps. I came up with a new nickname for her: instead of Jess Paps I want to start calling her Dress Paps.

The DJ played "Lovefool" by the Cardigans and everyone loved it. I loved it. Then they played "Alright!" by Supergrass and everyone loved it. Then they played "Malibu" by Hole and everyone loved it. It felt so strange: this is going, pretty soon, to be considered Classic Rock. Oldies. But it already sounds old, right? But even the things it sounded like were trying to sound like other things. Everything, as I tweeted earlier this weekend, is always about something else, too. Everything is always lost in looking. I guess we all are?

So the party was fun and I came home, after having been drinking (ugh) on an empty stomach. I got a lot of falafel and ate it in bed and passed out by 1am. Saturday I went to the gym and I went to Thee Irish Horse's house to meet up with them and Lady Rimalower to rehearse/workshop some things we're all working on. They were totally tremendously inspiring and exciting. I feel really grossed out and frustrated with my show, MAPPLETHORPE. I feel like I need to be uglier and tougher and bigger. Actually it's just that I need to for real seriously write the rest of the show. And quit being so scared. OK.

After our get-together (Becca had these really amazing apples and crazy peanut butters: coconut almond cardamom? CInnamon? What.), I went to Miss Max Bernstein's house for Happy Hour. We ordered Indian Food and talked a lot about how she just got back from the Coast and loves it out there, wants to move back. We talked about love or guys or whatever, you know. I had quite a bit of Happy Hour and came home to pass out, again before 1am. What is wrong with me.

Woke up early this morning to go see the Duchess for her birthday. She did up her living room all in pink, with cat-faces balloons, vegan pastel candies, astrological sign coasters, super spicy potato chips, big pink pillow bed, oldies country music playing and Doris Day movies queued up. And sunlight streaming in, and the cats laying around, cuddling. X made this lovely cocktail out of sweet tea vodka, pineapple juice, coconut water and coconut cream. It tasted great, but it did smell, as the Duchess pointed out, exactly like a fresh pumpkin, when you cut into it to make a jack-o-lantern. It was nuts! Also, there was cotton candy. And then Maude and Jawn showed up with psychedelic red velvet and vegan brownie cupcakes, respectively. And then I had to go rehearse.

I went to BAX to rehearse and I don't feel like I did anything productive and I'm super angry with myself. I took a ten minute nap in the studio but I didn't fall all the way asleep so I'm half-counting it as meditating.

Then I went to the Whitney Houston Biennial in DUMBO. I had to wait in a long line and I was having a nic fit, but then I got in and the show was cool, and PACKED! And Annie Sprinkle was there. I didn't know anyone. And like, not to be a brat about it, but it was weird to be at a big big art show and to not know anyone there. It was cool, but then I saw people I know, like Andrew and Pozsi and Adam and Emily and it was cool. I had some wine and checked out the art. i didn't end up staying for Narcissister's performance. I bummed a cigarette from a cool girl outside and came home. I ordered Chinese from Red House and I'm doing this cute podcast video thing then I'm gonna eat and go to sleep. I feel weird and lazy and unproductive but I think it's sort of ok?

ALSO: I'm performing on Wednesday night at Wreck Room, at this WIRED party. I really want you to come. I'm on this thing of I want to be performing a lot, but it's also hard to get the actual desire together? Like I want to want. I do want to perform a lot. I'm glad I'm performing on Wednesday.

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