WHAT I DID
Sunday, March 15
When I have a tablespoon of manuka honey with a sprinkle of sea salt before bed, I wake up feeling electric. My whole body is pulsing. It’s like a chemical reaction, almost. Very strange.
When I record my letters like it’s a podcast or something, sitting at the marble kitchen table in my empty foggy living room, the recordings process and save like I am somewhere else. A restaurant nearby, maybe. The files label themselves. Finest Goods #1, Finest Goods #2, Finest Goods #9, Finest Goods #12.
I do feel quite stupid, doing all of this. I’m sorry to speak like this. I’m sorry to be late or even absent, again. Long Island, Saint Patrick’s Day, my mom and my aunt and my cousins have me for dinner uptown and so I claw myself out of the apartment for this evening occasion. The health stuff is starting to feel more under control, thank god. It was starting to freak me out at the play last night. “There is no physical illness without mental connection, conceptualization, perception,” it was one of those words. Madelyn reminded me.
I’m fine, really. I bought cold pressed rosehip oil and I bought multi-peptides + copper peptides. I bought four pints of ice cream to bring to the dinner tonight. I bought pink Kate Spade ballet flats and black Marc Jacobs riding boots and black manolo blahnik ballet flats, too, for soooo cheap vintage, but then when they arrived at my door, within minutes of arriving at my door, someone stole them! I am mostly upset because these things were a real splurge. I am also upset, because these things were one of a kind. Honestly, I am less upset about the one of a kind part. I am not too precious when it comes to things of fashion.
The play last night was great. Matthew Gasda’s Uncle Vanya on Huron Street. Uncle Vanya at ArtX, because the water on Huron Street was shut off for the week. Admittedly, I never saw Uncle Vanya at The Brooklyn Center for Theatre Research in its original run, but I was glad to see it in this bigger space, here - the insularity and the claustrophobia and the suffocating sense of everybody speaking and nobody being heard given ever-so-slightly more air in this room of high ceilings than in a living room loft.
November - I was in a too small airbnb outside Albany New York and I almost punched a hole in the glass window. There was too much gray sleet, and no escape. I did not break the window, but I was somewhat awestruck by the potential for violence elicited by even the early aughts of claustrophobia. Which is to say, this is a bit of how I felt while watching Vanya.
Dimes Square was insular, but the characters kind of love it. Vanya is insular, and there is literally no escape. What happens when you cannot leave, when there is nowhere to go, when the path lays itself bare at your feet and the options are bleak? It is not a hopeful story, though not nihilistic really, either. George Olesky is brilliant as The Doctor, Bob Laine as a kind of hapless Vanya, Asli Mumtas as the beautiful and listless Yelena, Mia Vallet as Sonya, half bursting with youthful vigor and potential, and then veering into a nearly manic and finally resigned pitch, as it becomes clear there will be no actualization. No salvation, either.
I have thought before that desperation reeks, but this play suggests instead, that it festers. The characters who can leave, do. Those who must stay, are forced to find something else. What that something is remains a bit ambiguous. Integrity, perhaps. Hope in death and in God.
Monday, March 16
I entered into all this fugue state psychosis yesterday. The guy my friends ran into at the bar yesterday entered into all this unrequited love psychosis. People can be so evil. That’s the last thing I texted my boyfriend before I basically blacked out on Saturday: people can be so evil.
In my glass house, it was pouring pouring pouring rain last night. I felt so nostalgic for that apartment last night, even as it still remains mine, now. I felt like I could suddenly remember what it was for this apartment to be all new. There was no clutter last June. There was a sudden arrival in a place that was suddenly mine. It was freshly cleaned and there was all this space, it was like infinity it was like, all this light, oh my god, all this air and light and space, this will never get old. My mother says that about the fields behind the house sometimes: I moved in and I wondered if it would ever get old and it never did, she says. But she’s been there twenty-five years. humid summer air and thrifted propped up fans still blowing hot air through the white wood corridors on august mornings. I’ve been here nine months and I am already starting to stagnate. Which I guess is to say: I’m spoiled or, maybe I’m boring. Last night, I was nothing but happy.
Tuesday, March 17
How to redeem yourself?
Wednesday, March 18
Places this week: Cafe Reggio, The Public Library, Elizabeth Street Garden, Lucien for drinks, Fanelli Cafe for dinner. My roof every morning and night because it is spring now. Spring again. Spring at last.
Thursday, March 19
And something gives in a permanent way. New practices, new routines, you cannot continue like this, and so you wake up one day and you don't. There has been a lot that has been beautiful and then, there has been me taking myself out of all this beauty. And you don't become so didactic and harsh and full empty promises. You just give yourself some willpower and then you give yourself some peace.
I'm feeling really really really really annoyed on the plane to El Salvador. I'm sorry. This part isn't supposed to be in the story. I will tell you the real story, soon.
WHAT YOU SHOULD DO
Tuesday, March 25
From 6:30pm at McNally Jackson Seaport — Jamie Hood presents her new memoir Trauma Plot, in conversation with Rayne Risher-Quann.
From 7pm at KGB — KGB Lit presents Issue 23, featuring Robin Percyz, Eleanor Colligan, Zaza Koshkadze, Ledia Xhoga, Stephanie Wambugu, Anamaria Silic, and Grace Katherine Gay.
From 7:30pm at Anthology Film Archives — Rhizome hosts the world premiere of Transformers Terminal - a new feature film about a fanboy and a vlogger, comic-con and a de-virtualized relationship. Directed by Miles Engel-Hawbecker, produced by Theresa Tomi Faison
Wednesday, March 26
From 7pm at Union Pool — Matthew Danger Lipman, Emily Allan, and Asher White perform.
From 8pm (doors at 7pm) at Night Club 101 — Model/Actriz is live
From 8pm - 10pm at Jean’s — Alex Arthur presents The Official Electric Pussycat Karaoke Pregame. As always, Teddy Quinlivan’s Electric Pussycat Party to follow.
Thursday, March 27
From 7pm - 9:30pm at Artx — Matthew Gasda’s newest play Soonest Mended opens. - “the ultimate millennial relationship experiment.”
From 7:30pm - late at St Dymphna — The Matthew Danger Lippman and Page Garcia weekly reading returns.
Friday, March 28
From 8pm at KGB — TENSE returns with More Pricks Than Kicks. I will be reading, along with readings and performances from Kansas Bowling, Zack Graham, Sophie Madeline Dess, Valley Latini, and Cristiano Grim.
Saturday, March 29
From 12pm - 7pm —- PLĀS SS25 will be at Café Forgot. Drinks at Time Again to follow.
From 4pm - 6pm at BCTR — Fight Club returns for Volume II. This time, it’s a reading. Car Crash Girl by Taylor Jeanne Penney, and Mayor of Rome by Robin Schavoir. Spring is here, so obviously, the roof will be open.
From 7pm at Honey’s — Lily Lady and Siena Foster-Soltis are bringing Session: The Play to New York. - “Session is a one-hour play in three acts. No phones, no photos, must be 21+ to attend.”
From 10pm at Le Bain — The Level Party is back, featuring Orson and Jackson Walker Lewis (of Fcukers).
Sunday, March 30
From 4pm at 3317 E. Houston St. — Lynne Tillman launches selected stories: THRILLED TO DEATH.
At 4pm and at 7pm at Honey — More performances of Session: The Play
She’s done it again
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