More pictures are up @ babysinead.com!
KESH fashion show afterparty.
Flirting at BYTE
This weekend has been nonstop.
Friday: Vegan food and photo galleries. Blushing about my big ears. Dancing at Secret Faggot, which was a serious dance party. Go queer kids. Didn't get paid enough, but walked home in good company, sweat drying and bike bumping into my calves.
Saturday: Last day of summer! I started at 4pm. Met mister danger himself- and went to an outdoor techno party thrown by wolf and lamb and the bunker. The venue was perfect and by the water. Everyone came bearing pesto and pizza, sangria and peach vodka. hula hoops and hidden beers. danced to minimal and shmoozed about birthday plans till it was time for the interlude and then House Party (punny name) at 12 turns 13.
House and minimal may be legit electronica, but I find it boring after a while. The repetitive beat has no climax, no breaks, no pull to the dancefloor. Where is going? nowhere. How is going? slow. But the friends (most of whom hadn't seen me all summer and were relieved I moved back to NYC) the unexpected date, the mega sized redbull and the bit of E gift were enough to keep us moving.
Post Party was at winkel twinkle toes dumbo loft. I ran off with the girl to flirt, away from pathological skin and bones girls and exes and loud noises. Returned just in time to snag a spot on the epic sunrise ride (2 vans full) to Long Island. Gogil Beach.
Action Adventure! 730 crashing a sleepover beach party and skinny dipping in warm water. Eating peanut butter & agave sandwiches. dancing to dub glitch drum and bass hiphop heaven. taking sandy naps and sandy hits.
Finally get home at almost 4 pm. make fresh salad. painted something to decorate my wall. revel in the afterglow. apply for jobs. resolve to sleep early.
This is now hanging over my bed.
The words say:
I wanted to write you a letter. Who are you now? I saw you kissing some girl we both would've raised an eyebrow at, once. Even though you're a stranger, I thought you should know when you stare into the morning sun, that white vestal virgin rising her eyes to face the world, the first thing you see are rainbows. Remember when we did mushrooms and we saw so many colors I thought we'd broken the time space continuum? I dont. I want nothing more than a head half full of curls, multi-colored graphic novel delirium, money, passion, and classic coke straight from the glass bottle. That, like you, is not nothing. I remember your ears, how they blushed at every compliment. I picture mini-irons at the side of your head waiting for my mouth to open and my eyes to state the obvious. Doesn't I love you mean anything anymore?What about you're beautiful? I won't try anymore. Grow out your hair. Forget about pretending not to be looking at your reflection in the nearest shiny object. You could do with some self-awareness. I shouldn't preach though, I mean- who am I to talk? Maybe I am the color purple. Maybe I am the sweat of a packed dance floor. Maybe I am the momentary ADD you get when your mind sticks on one word you really like the sound of in the middle of a conversation. I am just glitter. I dare you to wash me off.