Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Riis Beach. Newtown, CT. Roosevelt Island. Queer adventures.

"There is no such thing as autobiography, there is only art and lies."

"'I think therefore I am,' does that mean, 'I feel therefore I'm not?'"

Art and Lies [Jeanette Winterson]

How long does goodbye last?
Does it begin the moment you are aware you are leaving?
Then around 12 years old, when our brains begin to give fruit-
we are waking up saying hello, goodbye

Biology teachers are fond of saying
"you are all dying"
because it's always always always true

My entire life has been a series of goodbye cups of coffee
goodbye fucks
goodbye travels
for-the-heck-of-it-I'm-almost-out drinks
this-is-it days of cut class

Remember that dress?
Wasn't it a what-if-I-die-tomorrow purchase?

And here I am New York-
I'm leaving.

I've Biked 37 miles in one day to your gay topless beach.
It was my goodbye-brooklyn ride.

I had a Because-I-may-never-get-the-chance-again orgy.
I cried about The Pain, the one that seems like The End.

I watched the one last free summer movie on the island
that isn't Manhattan
but part of it. Sat at the tip, body wanting
to jump in the East River- brain knowing better.

goodbye grand central,
ended up needing one last metro north train ride.
one last jaunt into into a state
I'd never visited before.

Goodbye gay Connecticut
with all your mango vodka smoothies, mansions,
and chain smoking. Goodbye backwoods with no sidewalks. Goodbye
lake I swam in even though the sign said not to.

Goodbye room without light. Goodbye Ikea shelves.
Goodbye 24 hour mexican bakery.
Goodbye no gathering on the sidewalk without a permit.

I'm leaving all the rats and sulfur and subway rides

New York, you're the Mount Everest of homes.

Your air is thinner
but the ground
is hardly ever as exciting.

It's time for me to breathe.
I'm dying too fast up here.

Pictures are proof:

Monday, August 3, 2009

Lowbrow Art.

More specifically, my lowbrow art. From the lowbrow show.

Here's a piece called "Photos I took and wish I had taken"

I paper-clipped my Polaroids to a window screen, and carey drew scenes I described to her on ones that had accidentally gone off in my bag.

This piece is called "Vanity"

PS. Us Lowbrow denizens have some rather fancy plans up our sleeves. Stay tuned.