Bad Advice

Jarvis Cocker is Deeply in Love with Me.

Sigh. Poor Jarvis. Poor, poor, Jarvis. I HAVE A BOYFRIEND ALREADY! Yet look at the way he's staring at me. That's Jason Buckle, also of Relaxed Muscle, cockblocking his bandmate. It's been quite a run at the Whitney Biennial. I'm off now to perform dance publicly for the very last time. I hope Jarvis can keep his tears in check. (That's my foxy fellow non-dancer Deb Aruta with me and the boys. Without her moxy and Mike Edison's iPhone, this photo would've never happened.)

My New & Exciting Dance Career!

I've been a non-dancer participant at the Whitney Biennial's Michael Clark residency for a full two weeks now and boy, am I tired! Together, open, turn, step, is the mantra for my new life as a world-famous dance sensation.

It's been a fairly fun experience for the most part. I've met a bunch of interesting people and have pushed my body in ways I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to go. The contrast between the real dancers and the civilians is so marked, it's like we're a bunch of hippos thundering through the gazelles. Yesterday a seven-foot tall man in toe shoes was prancing beside me, doing the same moves as I was—on his tippy toes—yet looking about one-thousand percent more graceful.

However, there are some Nomi Malones in the group who fully believe that this is their star turn. One of them actually looked me up and down, then turned away after I had the audacity to say hi. These types horn in on other people's rehearsal times, push themselves to the front of the group so Michael can better gaze upon them, and in general, act like divas. Hi, my fat ass is being paid the same amount as yours—nada. Sigh.

Today is our first dress rehearsal (very unexciting—black t-shirts and leggings), and tomorrow is our first performance. I have my fingers crossed that they decide to nix the supersonic-speed situp situation from the number because we look like a bunch of flailing windmills when we do that.

Unlike the non-dancers at the Tate show, we aren't having a whole lot of contact with Clark and his company. Mostly we're trained by a group of extremely patient and talented NYU dance students. When he does come around, Michael Clark does seem very sweet and soft spoken—he relies on his stage managers to do the yelling. And by "yelling" I mean politely telling us what to do in slightly raised tones because he's a bit of a mumbler. Everyone who works for him is very nice, which is a relief. Yesterday he warned some of us that we might want to bring some socks or slippers to wear backstage because it can get cold. Ayway, here's hoping I don't fuck up too badly!

More Beautiful Buildings Full of Wonderful People!

The lot on Roebling, between North 9th and 10th, has been empty for quite a few years now. I forget exactly when they tore down the old buildings that were there, but after an initial burst of activity it's been a dead zone. Now comes the news that this gorgeous piece of architecture will soon grace our nabe.

Up there with the Ansonia or the Beresford, this beauty is sure to bring a touch of class to a neighborhood previously known for vinyl siding and cabbage factories. I used to get all outraged when some new architectural atrocity would pop up, but this neighborhood has never been pretty. It has convenience going for it, but if it weren't dirt cheap, I would've never moved here in the mid-nineties. I see all these suckers paying Manhattan prices to live somewhere they mistakenly think is "cool" and now I just shrug. I can't complain too much because thanks to them, I can get all sorts of food delivery (our choices used to be pizza or bad Chinese, period), nobody's tried to stick me up in a few years, and there's an organic wine store down the block. Yes, the strollers are annoying, but I have cheap rent, nice friends nearby and dollar oysters across the street. Life could be worse.

So This is What I've Been Up To!

I'm sure you've been wondering. . . .

Well, since Mabel died I've been a little depressed. There are various crappy things happening around me, so I haven't been very motivated to write unless someone's writing me a check when I'm done. But the mood is starting to lift a little bit. We got a little kitten named Mitzi, after my friend's loathed sister-in-law (bad person, great name!). That's lightened the mood a little. The photo is of me and Mitzi (I sometimes call her Mitzer Ebb) pretending to look at Spyro's browser history. I say pretending, because really—I don't wanna know what's on there. It's just better that way.

I also recently decided to become a world-famous modern dancer and so volunteered to be part of the Michael Clark residency at the Whitney Biennial!

While I've sung in public—and on the radio—before, I've never unleashed my dance moves, so I'm certain this will be a big treat for everyone! Adorable dancers from NYU are teaching us moves right out there in the open at the Whitney! So if you stop by one afternoon, you might see me. If you're my friend, just write and I'll give you my schedule. Here's a photo of what you might see if you stop by:

Missing Mabel

Yesterday, I had to say goodbye to one of my best friends. Mabel the cat has been my beloved constant companion for the past 15 or 16 years. Yesterday, I held her on my lap as a kindly vet injected her with the drugs that would end her life.

There is no love between my landlord and me, but when I moved into this apartment and asked if it would be okay if I got a cat, she said it would be fine, as long as I took one of her sisters's cat's kittens. I didn't see photos—Millie just described the litter and I said I'd take the girl cat. The runt. She was, Millie said, gray with stripes. She apparently looked just like her mother, though I'd never seen her mother, so who knows.

When Millie dropped her off, she was teenier and cuter than described. I immediately named her Mabel, after this Goldfinger song. The line that convinced me; "Mabel, she's the bomb."

And she really was the bomb. She was a teeny cat with a huge personality. She was kind, empathetic . . . she always knew when I was sad and would come running to hang out on my shoulder, purring loudly. She would sleep with me often, stretching right up against me, again, purring loudly. Her purrs worked better than valium.

I love the top photo of her. Whenever she felt I should be brushing her, she'd hop up on the chair like this and wait for me to get the hint.

When Spyro and I argued, she would always take my side, standing by me, barking her little "meep" sound at him. She loved butter, Fancy Feast, me, Spyro, and Whitney Houston songs. If I ever wondered where she might be hiding, all I had to do was belt out "The Greatest Love of All" and she'd come running. I could never figure out if trying to climb inside my mouth when I was singing meant that she loved my voice or wanted it to stop. And yes, I would make up retarded little Mabel lyrics to the song too. My love for Mabes was completely queer and over the top. In fact, I'm sitting here, listening to that song and crying.

Her preferred resting spot was on my right shoulder. I have permanent scars from her claws, making sure I wouldn't drop her. It was never the left shoulder either. Always the right. Then she'd rub her cheek against mine and purr. Sometimes I'd brush her while she laid there, other times she'd just hang out there while I worked. I can't believe I'll never hold her again.

I never doubted Mabel's love for me and I truly hope, even though I held her and petted her while I let a doctor end her life, that she never doubted mine for her.

101 Things I love, #1 – #49

Okay, this is becoming a giant pain in my ass. I've rewritten this last list twice and had it eaten by my computer both times. I think I know why too—it's because I'm just not a cheery, mushy, gushy, I-wuv-u type of person and forcing myself to come up with a bunch of things I love isn't making me more positive, it's just making me (and my computer) even bitchier. So let's just look at the cute kitten video and call it a day, because really, there's nothing on this earth I love more than a kitty.

101 Things I love, #50 – #71

Okay, this whole "101 Things I Love," started out as an exercise in positivity, but the fact is, I'm kind of a bitch and much more comfortable complaining about things than I am being cuddly, warm and glass-half-full. So I'm going to blast through the rest of this list. Coherency be damned. Here are 21 more things I love:

• Snark sites. Whether they're mocking oversharing parents, hobo-themed weddings and ugly crafts projects, Julia Allison, or random fashion bloggers, they make me laugh. (#71)

• A nice rare cheeseburger. (#70) Preferably from Fanelli's (#69), with a side of their delicious fries (#68) and a Spaten Dark (#67). If it were to be a perfect day, it'd be raining (#66) and Soho would be experiencing a drought in tourism (which I'm not going to number because it's not going to happen).

• The smell of bookstores. (#65)

• Television—specifically HGTV (#64) and Bravo (#63).

• Speaking of TV, Jay Mohr's Real Housewives of New Jersey blog is about a thousand times more entertaining than the show. I don't even watch that show, but I read this blog. He's so invested that it almost makes me want to tune in. (#62)

• Sephora. (#61) I love to support small stores, but the sheer amount of sparkly, colorful, smelly, spangly items in this place weakens my grip on my debit card. Yes, I have made many stupid purchases here, yet I regret none of them. The salesgirls are generally helpful and nice too.

• The East River Ferry (#60) and Governor's Island (#59), which I'd never been to until recently. The Ferry is one of the best things to happen to Williamsburg. It almost makes up for the asshole-filled condos. Almost. (The photo is a view of lower Manhattan, taken by my iPhone (#58).)

• The second-best thing to happen to Williamsburg—well, maybe third, because my rent-stabilized apartment (#57) should really be number one—is Maison Premiere (#56) and their incredible dollar-oyster happy hour. Holy hell. If they started serving stinky cheese (#55) and bread (#54) as well, I might never leave!

• Big '80s hair. (#53) Think Robert Smith (#52), not Working Girl.

• Checks in my mailbox (#51). The worst thing about being a freelancer is sweating getting paid, so when someone does deign to pay me—this goes triple if they're on time or early—it's like winning Lotto!

• These gorgeous, lacy, Paperself paper eyelashes. (#50) They're beautiful and delicate and I will never wear them because I'm too spazzy, but they sure are purdy!

 

101 Things I love, #72 – #74

My Kindle (#74). When the Kindle first came on the market, I loathed the very idea of it. After all, I used to work in book stores. My house is loaded with books! I love the feel of paper, the weight of a good book in my hand. . . And magazines! I LOVE magazines!

I know I've written about it before, but my major neurosis is that I can't stand if someone picks up and thumbs through a magazine before me. I'm the mental case grabbing the latest Vogue from the bottom of the pile, and no, you can't just look inside it if I haven't gone through it yet. It's ruined to me if I stumble across someone's crumbs (gah!) or—possibly worse—water spots that show it's been used as bathroom reading by someone else.

Anyway, in the interest of keeping the peace in my house (he deserves some shelf space too), I bought one. And I love it. I can subscribe to the New Yorker (#73) again, because I know it won't pile up around the living room. Nor will it be brought into the bathroom by anyone but me!

Oh, and e-books! The instant gratifcation of deciding to read something and just downloading it to my little treasure is indescribable. Don't get me wrong—I still buy book books (#72) too. My Kindle doesn't replace my books, it merely supplements the supply.

101 Things I Love, #91 – 75

I just got back from a mini-vacation (#91) in P-town (#90), with my friend Jules (#89). While there, I enjoyed a lobster roll (#88), plenty of outdoor showers (#87), a frigid ocean (#86), and crisp white wine (#85). I also hung out with Julie's sweet Blue Heeler, Gomez (#84). I took the ferry to get there! (#83) We were lucky enough to meet the incomparable Ryan Landry (#82), who invited us to the season's last drag extravaganza, "Showgirls!" (#81). It was incredibly relaxing (#80) and I am kind of sad to be back in Brooklyn. (Though I was happy to see Spyro (#79), Inky (#78) and the light o' my life, Mabes (#77).)

Pictured is my going-away lunch at the Lobster Pot (#76) and Julie's boobs (#75).

101 Things I Love, #93

Kitten videos! I am utterly unmoved by the hijinx of human babies, but throw a couple kittens in front of the video cam and I am squeeing like an idjit.