I’ve had so much fun the last couple of weekends that I feel the need to blog about it. Is New York getting better again? I doubt it, but there are pockets of awesomeness to be had.
Last Sunday was one of those extremely rare cases where I didn’t feel the presence of anything other than creative forces. Not a frat boy in sight, not one Nicki Minaj song to be heard. Ode to joy.
I never go out on Sunday nights because I have to work on Monday morning, and it’s the only day of the week that Drew and I usually have to hang out at home. But there was a lot going on and me and my partner in crime, Ms. Zoe Hansen had a list of things to do.
I met her at the bank where I found her trying to cram a pair of shoes (gold glitter, covered platform, gorgeous) into her overstuffed leopard bag. Zoe already had another fabulous pair on her feet, but as she had to do a reading later in the night, she thought a second pair might be in order.
First up, Michael Alago and Mina Caputo did a reading of their poetry at the Munch Gallery. For you non-New Yorkers, Michael worked in the music industry and discovered/signed some of the greats (Metallica, White Zombie, Nina Simone). He is a photographer and a major gay and we love him. Mina is formerly Keith Caputo, lead singer of Life of Agony, and a supremely talented performer who is audacious enough to currently be gender transitioning in the face of a very hetero fanbase. I don’t know her well enough to ask how it’s going, but I think it’s an interesting story and probably a good life lesson for some mooks in the periphery. Zoe and I went to a Life of Agony show last year and the audience was rough. I had my ass grabbed within the first five minutes of being there.
Poetry readings can be tedious, but I loved everything they read and the setting was intimate and small, consisting of friends only really. It was wonderful. I love that I’ve been able to set up my life in a way that I am constantly surrounded by talented, creative people. It is inspiring and makes me feel happy to be alive. Of course Zoe and I showed up late and interrupted the flow with a noisy entrance. Zoe’s shoes fell out of her bag and we refused to sit separately so Michael and Mina had to stop reading and rearrange chairs for Patsy and Edina. At least we didn’t fall over anyone.
Next up, with time to kill, we ran in the pouring rain to Lucien with my ex-bandmate Vas Kallas and our good friend and another music industry veteran Ms. Diana Mahiques. Diana knows everything about everything and always gives us great astrological advice. She’s a genius. And Vas is my family and has a total rock and roll soul:
But she’s still a girl so we ordered a bottle of Chardonnay and got down to some serious gossiping over French onion soup. Good friends + shit-talking + food + wine = HAPPY.
Next up, on to Bowery Electric to see Motochrist, featuring my old friend Danny Nordahl. Danny and I have been friends since the 80’s when he was in the Throbs and I was in CSFH. We’ve played many shows together and he is the loveliest person you could meet, and it’s been years since I’ve seen him as he lives in LA. He tours with Faster Pussycat pretty regularly but I haven’t gotten to any of the shows and I was determined to at least make an appearance at this one.
Zoe and I started at the upstairs bar (bands are downstairs) and got happily situated with (now vodka) drinks in hand. My ex-boyfriend and dear friend Jesse M. showed up and I was very happy to see him until he announced that he was there to meet someone I’m not crazy about. An arch-enemy, if you will. I rolled my eyes very dramatically and huffed, “All right, guess we’re going downstairs!” We collected our things and marched off with noses in the air as Jesse shouted sadly after me: “What about UNITY??”
Truthfully, I don’t care that much anymore but I’m a Scorpio so I don’t feel that I’m doing my job properly if I don’t stomp out of a room now and again. And it was fine that he sent us running downstairs as it was a full on rock and roll scene in that basement room, Jaster Leon DJ-ing all my favorite songs, everyone in a great mood, drinks flowing, and a happy reunion with Danny:
The guys in Motochrist were SO nice and generous, everyone in the room was someone I was happy to see, the music was pumping, and I reaaaaally wanted to stay until the bitter end. Alas, Zoe had to read across the street, so we were forced to cut our visit short. Danny gave me one of his guitar picks, which featured the image of Charles Manson on one side, the words “I ❤ Crystal Meth" on the other, stating that he got sick of people asking him for picks and now he's got something good to give them. I ❤ Danny Nordahl. Regretfully, we ran out while the band was still on.
On to Bowery Poetry Club, right across the street, where the Faceboyz Follies were in full swing with a lot of peeling of clothing going on:
I realize this is a crap photo but it was taken at 11:30pm and I’d been drinking since 7pm. I just want to give you a feel for the cheerful nudity around us everywhere. This was my first time at Faceboy’s popular night, and it didn’t disappoint. He advertises it as: “Daring Burlesque, Live Music, Creepy Films, Great Writers and Crazy Fun!” Which is exactly what it was, lots of ladies in their underwear, a truly demented film made by Reverend Jen’s adorable boyfriend, Courtney (didn’t catch his last name), some killer readings, and then Zoe got up and did a stellar reading, with film clips edited by Glenora Blackshire rolling behind her.
The event reminded me of nights we used to see at the Pyramid, back in the dreaded day, where one creative person after another would get up onstage and experiment with whatever moved them at the moment. Sometimes it would be great, sometimes you’d walk away scratching your head, but you were always glad to be there.
Alas, work in the morning so after picking a fight with some poor shmo who kept insisting that his band played the Wah Wah Hut (they never had bands) I staggered home and tortured my sober night-in boyfriend with a drunken rundown of every single thing that happened, while peeling off eyelashes and kicking off shoes. Then I accused him of not loving me and passed out covered in cats.
Okay, so bear with me as I know this blog is getting long and is already pointless, but I had ANOTHER awesome night two days ago on the following Friday, when the girls picked me up after my happy hour shift at Bowery Electric. Let’s take a break for a little self-promotion on that happy hour courtesy of DJ Mr. Tim:
Tim and the ladies and I walked over to The DL, which is the place that Motherfucker NYC alum Georgie Seville is involved in that was originally called Ludlow Manor and featured Luc Carl as one of the partners. Luc is out but I absolutely adore Georgie; he is a beautiful person and I’ll show up at anything he’s endorsing.
We drank wine and ate delicious food (fancy mac n’ cheese, yes please!) in an elegant setting at a table with Sami Yaffa, Rob Carlyle, David Ilku, and a host of other EV rock and roll types. Sophia Lamar wrangled some twin twinks with bleached hair and great bone structure at the table next to us, the music was fabulous and I truly enjoyed myself. I highly recommend hitting this joint as soon as you can: it’s in the hood, the food is great, and because they’re just getting back on their feet after some licensing problems, it is not jammed with those types, but merely comfortably crowded with our type. No entitled trust fund cases or screaming sorority girls–meaning that people said excuse me when bumping into you. God, how I’ve missed that.
Okay, end of report. Game of Thrones and Mad Men on tonight so I’ve got to get the chores done asap in order to relax properly in front of delicious Don Draper and Daenyres and her dragons.