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.
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