Halloween. Art Show. Criminal.

I got my first real ticket today for letting a friend in with me through the subway turnstile.
I also got my first photos ever REALLY printed today for an art show. MY art show hosted by the group my friend and I started: The Lowbrow Society for the Arts...


halloween was beautiful glittery chaos. things like 9 am brunch and yoga sessions before bed and glitter gangs slashing faces with silver.

I cried when obama won.

Picture Post: Burning Man NY Decompression

[Word On the Street Series]
Recently found a picture from a late drunken night in Spain...

There are 3 things to do in this town: Watch TV, Become a genius, You.

Choices. and saying yes to the world.

New york has this way of catching you when you least expect it.
More than anywhere else in the world you are highly aware of your paralell universes,
your other possibilities of how to spend each moment. Relaxing is not calm but more a denial of options, a choice to not do anything beyond breathing and unwinding.

and going out at night? It's a garden of forking paths. each time you choose, you know of 7 other paths you could be walking down.


Showing up to see a band play, the same band that did this music video sent to you one year ago by one of your favorite boys:


Your friend is throwing the party.
You waltz in, know people, dance to techno reggaton mixes- then decide to leave where the world takes you. Escorted in a car, free, to a party in brooklyn at studio B with a notorious house DJ (Mark Farina) and your own goddamn bottle of vodka. for what? for saying yes to the ways of the world.

You learn that as long as you are doing amazing things, you are never wondering about the other possibilities you could have lived. You are satisfied and busy.

And then sometimes crazy nights lead you to crazy instances where you meet the Drum and Bass MC you thought was cute on the boat with Dara and christian Bruna over a year ago, the b-boy with the backpack. He says something heartbreaking about your cornea and asks you on a date to a museum while talking about freestyling to dubstep.

there is that triple threat: intelligent, attractive, ability to dance. and more, you've met him before while he was onstage at a weekly Drum and Bass party in your old haunt, the east village.

years ago you had turned to your boyfriend and said "that boy is cute" to which he responded with his ever jealous sneer.

now it is now and you lean in to kiss him and he says DAMN
it's been 10 years since a girl's taken the initiative.

But you can't hate a girl who looks good dancing.

Picture this: Faux naomi campell with a drink in her hand pushing through a dance floor.

When she gets to my friends and I she shoots up dirty looks and demands for up to let her through as her drink is in danger of spilling.

"I'm trying to walk here!" screams naomi.

"THERE'S A REASON IT'S CALLED A DANCE FLOOR" I shout back.

Fiesty, I'm always ready to throw a punch at girls like her. They are my pet peeve. Granted- I was at a fancypants club that really didn't want to let me in (they had to, I was on the list) but drinks on the dance floor and psuedo shufflers who throw dirty looks at the ones who are really getting down- UGH.

Moby did spin a fantastic set. And with 3 pretty girls and some pizza to go we jet-setted to the party where crystal castles was DJing. We may have taught a few hipsters something about raving. completely sober too. Yup.

Can I please mention how much I love new music (esp brazillian)? Listen to this episode of One Bad Apple, a podcast my friend ruby hosts.


There's a halloween shitshow going down, and I am part of it. I'm the head of the glitterati and candy army, which is exactly the type of contribution I should be making. Lets just put it this way: STREET PARTY to SUBWAY PARTY to LOFT PARTY to SECRET AFTERPARTY. you're jealous. come to new york, and you won't be.

The next night I'm go-go/lapdancing here:



and doing burlesque that sunday at sexybitch, flyer to come.

(busy weekend,hm?)


Planning last night. Biked to my friends bushwick loft eating sushi and fresh corn, drinking wine, discussing how to make halloween magical with a crew of nightlife magicians.

After a stop by a neighborhood bar, took (finally) took home a girl I've been flirting with here and there. Over the past few days we have done the following:

walked the williamsburg bridge
pretended it's my birthday at a deli for free chocolate
kissed
gotten in a water fight
gave a guy a kiss on the cheek and subsequently got 3 month passes to the guggenheim
found fun records on the street for her collection
drank too many beers
watched religulous
tied each other up
got stoned
giggled for 20 minutes in the middle of sex
dubbed my room the batcave


As with everything else, I have no expectations. but she can mimic the lesbian dance perfectly, has nice legs, loves fags, and seems sincere.


I really think too much of my life is pre-occupied with other people. but at least I cleaned my room today! and (less sarcastically) I got a callback for a scholarship I applied for!

That's all folks.

Commentary. Trancendance. SMUT.

Yesterday doing yoga I had one of those moments where pain turns to pleasure and a body is just a body, and maybe you're aroused by the physicality of that place in your mind.

That sentence almost makes sense.

Less vague:
I'm seeing a ladyboy who called herself partially strong girl, partially shy 15 yr old boy. Which is funny, as those could be considered my two types. she makes espresso and thinks her cats are puppies and likes her earlobes and leather and bleeds too much and sometimes sends really sweet text messages that make me smile more than I'd like to admit.

"she's very poly [amorous]."
that's the word on the street about me. I mean, I never stopped to think about it. But hey, if it's obvious to a stranger then I suppose I am. Though I'm not sure what my limits are. I suppose I'll find out when I hit them.

Isn't that the way to go? Blindly into living? Jumping headfirst, arms outstretched?

I'm curating an art show not knowing how to curate an art show.
But it's going well.

This piece will be in it, I think:



and here is why when I go online some days, I just can't stop giggling:



Hi world,
Lets be friends.

KORRUPT + CO.

Korrupt last night was brilliant. Gaslamp Killer went from dubstep to NIN to hip hop and I think I fell in love- with him. We came as a glitter ARMY in the limo, to bottles of champagne and goodie bags (filled to the brim with condoms, rubber gloves, underwear...)

Gave out cum shots at the party (which are suprisingly potent) out of my faux penis, did some shadow dancing, mostly loved how fucking beautiful my friends are.



Here are some of my favorite shots of the night.
More to come, super soon.

models are to be seen and not heard. and then sometimes I like to rant.

And sometimes at 4 am on a saturday morning when i decide to forego dancing all night because I'm cold and tired and leaving the house sounds unappealing I decide to watch shitty TV and there's that scene where 2 people kiss in the rain where it's so intense the camera circles around them and everything becomes a blur and water is in their face and probably up thier nose and maybe they are shivering a little too but they are full body kissing hands under shirts and in hair-

times like these I miss you. I see us in my head and my life is better than this stupid show. that week with the rainstorms so epic it took me two hours to drive 15 minutes and I watched you raft down what used to be a creek and I ran after you to save you because I thought you died when you didn't show up on the other side of those trees and I knew then I loved you because I would have jumped into that muddy water for you without thinking twice.

and I've never felt more alive than when I thought I was dying I mean really I guess that's fucked up to say but that fight we had where I cried so hard I puked a little? that was living and feeling with every pore of my body but I don't do that anymore because I know better. I practice safe sex not the kind I learned about in school no im not talking about condoms and spermicide I mean before I take my clothes off I hide my heart in something hard and cool and I know the rules about never cuddling too much never getting comfortable never letting yourself wake up in a pool of someone else's sweat

because if you don't get close you won't get stuck or at least it will take longer and everyone's down to play the distance game. I live in new york city, we are the masters of the casual encounter even if we are dating for 7 months I will never know if my body fits yours but I knew with him the first time we spent the night together and I knew so much I couldn't speak for 2 hours after and he was the only thing that existed in the rain and later the only thing by the fireplace and the only shoulder as safe as my parents

but shoulders are lies and rain is a lie and hey maybe the kiss is a lie and in search of honesty I've just preffered to keep my reality sterile. you keep your shoulders and spooning and romantic moments. romance is just a word I tattoo behind my ear so it's a part of me even when it isn't I hid it somewhere I can't see for a reason

I miss real things but I've grown complacent with complacent and that's sad for someone like me always chasing the ski jumps and 6 am dancing sad because I didn't go out and I sat at home and shivered and accidentally ended up missing you when what I really miss is nothing because I feel nothing and what we had was nothing or you made it nothing by never speaking to me again and sleeping with other people and I don't miss you I guess just the moment when someone touches you and everything else melts away and it's ok to let go and say fuck it and take the goddamn condom off your emotions and let your heart get rubbed so raw it's sore in the morning and you have trouble closing it for a few days after the fact.