I want to play more shows. I make music and theater performances and also do readings from my psychedelic porno poetry zine Scorcher. I feel like I don't get asked to do a lot of shows in NYC and people forget I'm out here but I'm definitely all the way out here and want to do as many shows as possible because I am working on a secret new thing I need to beta-test. And I'm funny and freaky and people generally like what I have to do (even if the experience is unpleasant at the time). I'm like a vitamin.
ANOTHER MEMORY FROM WHEN I DATED A GAY REPUBLICAN:
One night I hung out with this lesbian couple at their house, instead of going out to the wine bar with my Republican Boyfriend. He was upset that I hadn’t hung out with him. In the morning, he called me to tearfully admit that he had been lonely and got drunk and hooked up with his ex, but they only gave each other hand jobs (he was really into hand jobs). I told him that I wasn’t that upset, I told him that wasn’t such a big deal. He found this insulting. He became furious that I wasn’t more upset and demanded an apology.
I wrote about Lana Del Rey and Maleficent for The New Inquiry.
"Del Rey’s timbre instantly evokes the atmosphere of her oeuvre. More than a hazy, Instagram-y dream world, it’s a signature dissociative state—being sad but feeling beautiful, observing one’s own desolation through the lens of a tingling body high.”
I’m done with the moon It’s a phase. I love Leo’s I hate grammar. It’s grand- ma. Anyone whose club who has a club or I can’t say foot I couldn’t be part of—wait. Let’s go clubbing. What? Some nights I go out, fading ecological niche—the sky in thunder, like memory. It’s dead summer,…
“Because they will convince us/them that we have ARRIVED, that we are already THERE, that IT happened, that we are postgay, postfeminist, postriotgrrrl, postrace, postpoor, postoppressed. Because generation gaps are an invention of capitalism. Because we need to live in a place where we are truly alive, present, safe, and accounted for.”—"What is the question to the answer." essay by Tammy Rae Carland, 1999. (via fagcity)
At work, I’ve been petitioning to get an office cat. A kitty that I can play with at work. I would like to name her Stephanie. I’ve been at this job for five years and I would like to think that in that time I’ve sufficiently demonstrated my organization, attention to detail, and the pride I take in my responsibilities. And yet, thus far my petitions for an office kitten have consistently been rebuffed.
Ditto to my motion that we review how exactly we define the expenditure category of office supplies, particularly as it pertains to snacks. On numerous occasions, I’ve respectfully submitted that we move to consider cigarettes as a communal snack for the office. Naturally, not everyone shares the same taste in snacks. For example, I don’t enjoy the microwave popcorn bags we buy by the case, and so I don’t consume them. Is it fair that my portion of the popcorn budget be used as such, when it could be applied towards regularly restocking the office kitchen with marlboro lights? Again, I think that throughout my tenure here, I’ve consistently demonstrated my ability to manage my workload with the assistance of nicotine supplements, and would think that beyond the recreational snacking enterprise, that the boost in productivity and employee morale would be a sufficient enough reason, but of course I don’t make the final budgets.