I'll be on the steps of the park on Chrystie by Whole Foods. Dying.

I like to start every post by saying I blog less than I used to.

So.
if anyone still reads this bullshit, my sincerest reparations are to come.
And by reparations I mean pictures of things like more babies and other snoozy business.



First of all I want to say Olive is very pretty especially in the glorious sun rays that stream into her new apartment.


We went to an excellent art show situation event whateverthefuck last week and Will was as spastic as I expected. As you can maybe tell from this terrifying photo.
The new me is very coy around men, and every man there was HandsomeGlory so I spent most of the night blushing. This is not a lie, I in fact blush now. I don't know whats going on with me.



I like when there is food and endless booze and a band and dancing and fire escapes and roof access and cute humans.
Hint: all of these things were present
Hint followup: if you sit right by the food, lots of boys will gravitate towards where you are, making it easier to let them get a good look at you.
I employed this tactic for at least an hour.


That art looks like Cisco Adlers balls.


The roof.


Free alcohol leads to dance explosion.

More things happened and then I went to Atl for my sisters baby shower.


Airport humans.


We ate here after the family picked me up.
Something about that is funny to me.


This is my dramatic southern baby shower gear. And face. Theatrics.
Realize how hard it is for me to post this photo.
Everything about it is eyeroll worthy.
But I'll tell you something, I look pretty.
So I'll be that.



My boo in the car.


My boo at the pool.


Right: my sister, 9 months pregnant, baby shower guest of honor
Left: my cousin, 6 months pregnant, her body looks just like mine after I eat cake.
What. The Fuck.









Pule Perty!











I'm pretty sure there is a picture exactly like this from 20 years ago. Aunt Linda holding me and someone else.
Now its Cashen and Kayla.
Also please look at Nancy swimming with a baby panda tube.


These two are a fucking trip.
I'm telling you, the urge to rip your clothes off as much as possible is surely genetic.
I got it from my mom, who got it from Howie and Jess.
Now we have a new flock of nuders.
Nude on.


Oh hey Dad you're funny to me.


I think this is what husbands look like in the south.
By the way, thats not an insult even remotely, what you're seeing here is a great guy.
Whether or not he cuts his sleeves off, hes still radder than most of the assholes I have to look at day in and day out.


Shayla is nearly a year old and this was the first time we met.
She obviously adores me.
She stuck her goldfish crackers in my mouth which for a baby, its like giving you handfuls of god damn rubies.

Had a good time.
It was a short trip
I love my family.
I went home again.


I feel like clouds are getting weirder.

New York.


Philharmonic in Central Park.
Its mostly about the snacks.


The ghost of Krissy sunbathing in Tompkins with Natasha.

Today.
Hung over and tired and gross.
Met Conrad to run uptown and try to get my Vespa going.
It was hot as sin out for real for real.
It melted my zest for life.


Two hours, a jumper cable, a can of gasoline and a coconut water later, C-rad can get the engine to turn over and the bike drives about ten car lengths before it dies.
I feel like I should repay the man for his efforts in life blood or magical potions.
He tried really hard.


This is why I love men so much.
They think shit like this is exciting.
They get their panties all twisted up tinkering with batteries and wires and engines and shit like that.
We shall return with a new battery next week and get this bumblebee looking mother fucker on the road.
PS I've been watching Kenny Powers all day.
My language is atrocious.

I'm exhausted now and I'm off to Atlantic City tomorrow for sexy lady weekend.
Before I go please look at this chinese kid with a heart shaved into his head.
Also his parents were a riot.


All my love, friends.
Exes and Ohs.

In every wish and dream And happy home You will find the kingdom of The Gnomes

Everything comes in giant waves, no?

I woke up quite under the weather this morning completely unable to swallow coupled with aching eyeballs.
Not suitable for nannying.
I had to call out of work of course because little babes don't need my germs no siree. (Suri?)

It was an unpleasant day of not eating, not really drinking, not really moving... just rolling around in my bed having feverish dreams and intermittently feeling the disgusting tingle of the sunburn on my lower back rub against my sheets.

Then I dragged myself up around 230 this afternoon to get ready to go to therapy on the upper west side.
For some reason I thought today would be a really good day to delve into some ol stinky garbage issues I've had since I was a kid that possibly affect my current behaviours.
Might I remind you, this is Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, and is all about living in the moment mindfully. It is certainly not about having an hour long self absorbed cry fest.
Well...today I failed at mindfulness and self control.
I sweat all over Claude's nice Eames lounge chair and snot up about half his box of tissues.
I cried the entire time basically and I had that weird awful sobby choked voice that it just unbearable.

So that happened.

I came home to rest and take some pills and drink some tea which was nice but then I got shit on by someone who shall remain nameless.
I really dislike being disliked does that make sense?
I always feel this weird pity for people who berate those who care about them. It makes me think they are so beyond fucked inside that I have to figure it out and then assist them in some way.
Maybe they just don't like me and thats why they talk shit.
Either way, its essentially a lose-lose sitch.

So as of 7 minutes ago it became Tuesday and this horrible Monday ended and I am glad for it.
I embrace every moment I have with those I love but today was pretty loveless for the most part.
Thats why I'm going to think about all the happiness I had this holiday weekend.
I am so so thankful for the people in my life who give me positive thoughts and unconditional acceptance.
I hope these photos make you feel good.


On the train out to NJ to celebrate the 4th, it appeared as though Levin was not set to have a good time with the ladies. But I had faith in his ability to find enjoyment in all the vagina he was about to be stuck with for 48 hours.


Porto sits with me and is never embarrassed when I talk too loud or say "wet dick" in public.
Maybe she is embarrassed but she doesn't scold me which is nice.


Marshy like disease time.


Beer.
Meat.
Livy's salad.
Dinner in the yard.
It was an immediate killing it type of situation upon arrival.

We walked to the fireworks at the river and somehow ended up with the perfect seats despite a crowd of 125,000 people. Supposedly 125G, Nancy may have exaggerated.


Levin posted up Americana.


This is real.
Real emosh. (emotional? can i say emosh?)
Stephanie cried a few times and forced Levin to hold her hand dramatically.
I enjoyed that.
I mostly clapped furiously and wiggled with excitement.
Red Bank fireworks are by far the best I have ever seen in my life.
There were hearts and purple things and star showers and hibiscus shaped ones with red lanterns in the center that floated away as the explosion faded.
Steph and I now have a plan to be cremated and stuffed into a tube WITH fireworks so we can be shot into the sky and transcend time and space like magik.
I made up that last part about transcendence.


Levin caveman duties.


This is what drunk ghosts probably look like.



The next day, the actual July 4th, we had a plan to remain at the beach until the fireworks went off on the ocean around 9pm.
It is very hard to be at the beach for ten hours.
But Ilona and Werman showed up which was entertaining, especially because Ilona was wearing her mans underpants as a babin suit.


Werman is a good beach DJ.


Look at these butts!
Look at these mexican blankies from 7-11!


Stephanie's beach walk is so good, she does it a certain way 'so nothing shakes'
Shes my tiny pony.


If they have a baby I think they should just name it Jew.
No other moniker would really explain a creature from their combined beings.



Jey and BabyBows finally showed up late in the day.
They did not disappoint on Jersey costume prep.
Best part is they sort of always look like this.
I just never realized what I was looking at.
Glory.


I wish I had thought of this first.

I don't think it is possible to blog anything after the beginning of the sunset.
It was too good.
Dogs running on the beach.
So much color.
Music and swimming and all kinds of good things.
Heavenly is a good adjective in very few occasions but here it may apply.



















Olivia took photos of me with seashells over my boobies like a mermaid laying in the wet sand.
And me and Jey holding hands in the creek reflecting the pink from the sky.
And Stephanie dancing with a scarf like a bird.
And water dives and poodle chases and Micheal Jackson beach house blasting celebration.
All those parts are in my head where they belong and I wish I could share them but I just don't know about that.
I would have to be so much better of a writer...

We had one more little trip to the beach Sunday after I ate probably 3 entire bagels and drank 14 glasses of juice.
Then to Jeys to eat all the food at her house.
Also to show off my sunburn.


And sing this:


Then to the ferry to see another sunset and go back to the reals.



Out-feeeeit!








The moon!



This to that.


I walked South Street to my apartment and was greeted by a giant dead bird on the stoop.
It stared at me for a few minutes then whispered Welcome Home.

*PostScript thank you mom for taking care of us and loving us and feeding us and having a place for me always

I'm eating saltines in bed.

I am completely jealous and hypnotized.

Whats more special than you? Its me.

One of my biggest problems is not thinking I'm the shit.
I probably should at least within reason.
I'm cute and funny and I win at Scrabble most of the time.
I can cook and I have great hair.
I help people move to new apartments and forgive people when they fuck up.
I take care of babies and I give Fail Dudes a chance as long as they have some heart.

I think B and Kanye are probably the most self assured public figures maybe ever.
I mean really.



On that note, I'm about to go marinate some chicken and have another beer.
Summer afternoons at home are like panda bears burping rainbows into jars and wrapping them up in sparkly bows for your birthday.
(when you open the jar it doesn't smell like burp it smells like strawberry KoolAid)
(or jasmine)

The Bee The Butterfly Man

Monday night penis joke!




Marion did not think it was that funny because it was in her soup.
PS Marion is in Richmond now.
Hi I miss you.
Road trip!

In other news, I think it is weird that Bowery Electric has that mirror wall outside.
I don't understand the concept.

Furthermore, the interior of that place is not so bad (recent realization)
Too bad no one ever goes there.
They need some sexy bartandrahs and some special hipster djs and its in the bag.
Or drink specials.
Always a good idea.
I just right now put it together that thinking outloud on a blog means it is inevitably going to be bor-hong.
I am falling asleep just writing this.

Today was therapy day and my best friend I mean therapist, Claude, discussed with me why I am afraid to be gentler with people.
I told him its because I play the role of being absurd and uncouth so well that it gets laughs.
I don't know who I am really if I'm not saying something negative that in turns comes out as humorous.
I told him I'm willing to bet if I soften up I won't be nearly as entertaining.
Case in point, this blogging sitch right nyah.
He told me when I want to be mean I should pretend that part of me is like the asshole cop everyone hates, who can never just be decent and let shit slide.
I thought that was an amazing suggestion so I'm going to try it.
When my mouth is ready to say "Hey fuckface I bet yer hung like a baby I can tell because you've got lady hands. I hope yer whore mom buys you a new car for your birthday then you accidentaly drive it off a cliff"
I will tell that part of myself to shut up.
I will be telling the asshole cop character inside me to shut up though, so it will be like a lil trick on meself.
Hooray for tricks!

Speaking of tricks I learned a few from this guy the other night





I have more news but I would rather eat my green beans in peace instead of doing this.

Hustler on the rise, laces untied

I sort of can't wait to hear Jadas gravel voice.
PS I refuse to wear sneakers.
XOhhnoshedi'int.
(yes she did)

“If you enter this world knowing you are loved and you leave this world knowing the same, then everything that happens in between can be dealt with.”

I sat on the bus from 72nd st all the way to 1st and 1st.
No music, didn't open my books, didn't do the NYTimes crossword.
Honestly the dramatics aren't needed because death is just another part of life.
but I feel sad anyway.
The simplest version of that emotion, thats what I feel.
When I think about all the pain he must have gone through all of those years, the way he was adored and treated like a pet as a child.
The way he never had a chance for the freedom of normalcy.
The way he couldn't make a single mistake, he couldn't give up performing, practicing, working...
for his whole life.
The way he mourned that by becoming what WE all wanted him to be. A character, a muse, a freak, a king.
He spoke so soft like he was scared of saying anything to make us stop loving him.
And whatever it was he did over the years that was immoral or unusual or misunderstood...I think we can use humanity to understand what it is to be truly flawed.
I used to dance and sing to my parents vinyl and he was one of my favorites.
When I sing his songs I feel good about my voice and myself.
When I dance to his music I wish I could do what he did so easily.
Everyone wants to be loved and remembered.
I'm going to love him and remember him.

When I Grow Up

When I grow up, I want to be a forester
Run through the moss on high heels
That’s what I’ll do, throwing out boomerang
Waiting for it to come back to me

When I grow up, I want to live near the sea
Crab claws and bottles of rum
That’s what i’ll have staring at the seashell
Waiting for it to embrace me

I put my soul in what I do
Last night I drew a funny man
with dark eyes and a hanging tongue
It goes way bad, I never liked a sad look
From someone who wants to be loved by you

I’m very good with plants
When my friends are away
they let me keep the soil moist
On the seventh day I rest
for a minute or two
then back on my feet and cry for you oooh oh

You’ve got cucumbers on your eyes
Too much time spent on nothing
waiting for a moment to arise
The face in the ceiling and arms too long
I wait for him to catch me

Waiting for you to embrace me



FEVER RAY

*HAPPY SOLSTICE*

Feeling you from the inside.

Good brunch with Tash today, Moroccan Benedict and Blood Orange Martinis. Yums!

Blorg time.
I'm feeling really joyous and blessed, which doesn't really make for the best comedic commentary, thats the sad truth of human nature.
But bear with me.



I honestly don't know what to say today so I'm going to drink a beer and see were that goes.

OK Things.

Thursday Night.

The darling Professor is back in town from a long stint in London. He brought a lot of energy home with him to New York, so he has been a gem to have around.
LOLA party 10pm.
We walked along the river to the Broad St Ballroom and into the most crowded glorious place I've seen in awhile.
There wasn't a sourpuss in sight.
Good times with immediacy.


Tash was bewildered.


10 minutes after we got there, we got up to the front. Alger is walking around being mysterious and Questlove slinks right by him playing a triangle or something up to the stage. Super relaxed.
Then his marching band came out of nowhere and blew excitement directly up our collective asses.


Hearing Hollywood Swingin' performed in this fashion is probably the fastest way to get asses shook.

10 flights up we found early nineties club music and a wooden playground on the roof.
Also beer in Levin's pants.







On the eighth floor we found more beer and tequila, a barber shop, a body mod guy, Amber and her sister, some police officers and firemen, a giant bodyguard, better music.

I never made it to the pool because you weren't allowed to bring beers in there.
Pfft.
I think I missed a lot of things going on but I had an excellent time.
I'm pretty sure the tequila was cursed because after a couple shots everyone was on one.

Midnight it all shuts down.


Levin posted up for a minute then we hit the streets.




Some assholes I don't know wanted to jump in the picture.
I was told to get the abusrdly massive american flag in he photo and of course did not.
So Olives salute makes zero sense in this case.


Gotham City yall.

Friday night was conceptual photog mission with Alger.
Dress up and models and documentation of the greatest apartment I will even have inhabited in this city.


Stylists are always fun because they love to talk shit on everyone.
It's part of their gig really.


Beautiful girl, great trash hair.
PS, just because a woman is Japanese, it does not automatically make her retarded.
Speaking broken English and having a brain deficiency are two different things.
She was a total doll and probably laughing at all of us inside.
Stupid Yankees.


The 17 year old Russian model in the foreground had a lot to say about American culture and the fact that I burp pretty constantly when ingesting Budweieser tallboys.
Keep your Eastern Euro commentary to yerself please. Theeeeeinks!
PS youre cute, but I don't need the sass. Look gorgeous and shet the yap.


Marion looked like Carnivale plus Miami plus country singer plus sex.



I initially resisted taking part in the actual photos, then I remembered I am suprememly self absorbed and theatrical.
So I put on a metallic onesie and some hot bitch heels and worked it out.
Obviously.


For those of you unfamiliar with the Alger photo mastery, heres a piece he did for Ray Ban recently.
When he runs around the models with his lights drawing in the air thru the darkness he makes a hilarious rocket zoom type sound.
That makes it very hard to hold still and play serious.
He is one of my favorites generally speaking and he deserves every ounce of success he ever sees.
What a heart.

Everything is so fun lately it makes it impossible to express on a blog.
I feel so lucky to have such fantastic people around me all of the time, they are inspiring and full of such genuine goodness and talent and humor.
(Faggetry!)

Olive got some photos back recently from a trip we had to NJ together, they are so natural and free and a superb reminder of how wonderful things can be when we see them for what they are.
The shore on a cold day with no shoes.
Your mothers house in the suburbs.
A wrestling match with one of your oldest most loyal confidants.
All caught.
So we don't forget it or take it for granted.






















Oldest, dearest, I never forget you.

Kisses from the summer solstice.

Theatrics!

SO MACABRE.



I wish Trent and I could get married in a black forest that smells like density and wilting rose buds :(

Whoops just kidding.

Whoops serious.

Yall thought you knew me.