Different Levels of Exhaustion

1. I just ate lots of food and now my stomach is working to digest it and I'm pretty cold and drowsy. I'm sitting back and thinking about when I will shit.
2. I did lots of speed last night and the back of my eyes hurt because I had that kind of sleep that never comes.
3. I have not slept in over 3 days and my brain has gotten really loose and it's sort of weird and difficult to form sentences because I think about where the words should go alot. I am cold.
4. I took some sort of various substance to help me sleep valium tylenol pm xanax and now I am that hungover on sleep. My body feels so heavy.
5. I just woke up from a nap in the middle of the day in the sun and I feel really warm and I reach around for my cat and all my sheets are clean and there's a back facing my lips and I kiss some random area that is not an erogenous zone nor do I want it to be.

the winter of my lazy discontent

I have been mildly discontented lately, or possibly just bored. most likely the latter, i'm sort of happy these days. maybe i'm just hungover. if you don't expect something big huge and exciting- well-

I don't know how I get bored- sometimes i just can't DO anything. So, I'm sitting at my desk and the breeze is passing through my window, tons of new yorkers and a tauba book and some acorns and a couple pens, a d.a.p catalogue, some cards meg sent me a while ago about aderall, a bard curatorial studies master's brochure, con ed bills i haven't paid for a while. everything's just Piling Up. sometimes i wish everything happens the way it does in cartoons- when you run, dust would kick up behind you, when you think something, a lightbulb appears over your head. small moments would become more interesting if they were accompanied by overt physical manifestations. my passport is there. i should use my passport in january. i should run away for a minute. a zine joe made this summer at the ben jones sunday school at deitch. when i move again i'll pack up the stuff up and it will arrange itself differently in a new location without my approval. i wonder when i'll stop moving for good.

music

I rarely see bands I like. Because of this, I rarely write about music. Mostly, I'm watching other people watch themselves, trying to get free drinks, and when I had a boyfriend who booked shows, I was most definitely trying to get him to pay attention to me. Other things I do at shows: smoke cigarettes, look at merch (I don't do this frequently), think about snacks or deli sandwiches I could procure within a 3 block radius, text, talk to the door person. Sometimes, I am the door person but when you're the door person you have an entirely different set of considerations. So it goes.

When I look at art for my purposes, it's quick and analytical. Unless, you're at an opening which is the equivalant of a show. But it's different then too- an opening is like a big party at a store. Which I suppose is what show-going is like at bowery-esque places in the city, but I don't even think that either. The art and music world in new york have lines drawn down the center of urban social norms regardless of size or corporate ownership.

The experience of music needs to be mutually transformative. I'm going to understand your band more if the person next to me is feeling it harder. And I can see it on their face, in their body, out of their hands. If I'm watching my favourite artist produce their work next to three other people, the outpouring of expression by the bystanders can only be intellectual, not visceral. Fucking your girl versus saying I love you just ain't the same.

Meow meow meow- to crawl back around to the beginning of this arc of context, maybe my experiences are so noxiously bi-polar because I never see bands I like.

Last night, I went to see Thee Oh Sees at Death by Audio. They didn't play until 2:30 and I was really high and having a wonderful time. My friend Maya had just pinned a patch on my jacket that had multiple, powerful meanings, and my friend Ariel had just given me a really cold beer.

Mystical and utterly transformative, Thee Oh Sees at 3am on this past fall Friday are what I imagine the best sex I ever have will sound like.

10.5.09

Today, I woke up and read David Wojnarowicz journals in bed. Took a shower drank hot water with lemon and met Olga for coffee outside. Walked back to my house and changed my clothes, met Alaina on the J train platform at Lorimer. Took it to Canal. Walked around looking for red reishi powder for about an hour. Many women kept trying to get us to get massages or handbags. We declined. Drank a tsing tao at one place, went to New Green Bo and got Ma Pao Tofu and Eggplant, another tsing tao. Full. Walked over to the Highline and sat over 10th ave for a little while. Walked back to the East Village, got on the L. Home.

"What will I think about all this scribble ten years, thirty years from now in the change of history, where will Jim or John or me in relation to all these activities? It's the starry mirror of the eyes slow revolution to the impossible or fictional future then reeling back again to the past. FZAMMM"- d.w

4.19.09

Today was largely eventful and uneventful all the same. Tried to stay distracted. Success. Wanted to write before it got to late. Success.

Woke up, went to work. Left promptly to buy mirrors at this ridiculously small place in Hell's Kitchen. Very old timey.

Came back to the gallery, walked to lunch with Christopher. Pineapple Fried Rice with Tofu. We talked about his friend who expected too much of him. Total obligations, there are no obligations. Thought it was interesting that he brought this up today. This is making my hand hurt.

Lots of crates came. Met with the artist Paola and the fabricator Sam. Placed Paola's grid, it will go accross the center of the space on the street side.

Ran into Bailey as I was getting on the train with Andrea and James. Went to the Creek, got drunk. Home now.

9.9.07

Doing my homework for the last time ever.

What if every person is a different version of the same idea?

12.27.08

Technically, 12.27.08. 2:16am. Joe and I just got home from hanging out with Max at this kid's Scott's house on 21st and 2nd. He didn't care about his apartment and it was really gross. He had two cats. One of them jumped really high. I had a cider and a glass of wine and a Sparks. I feel sort of drunk. 2 cigarettes today.

Shoog is on my lap. I love having a cat so much and he finally started using his litter box.

Joe and I snorted a bunch of aderol together. It was fun.

On the way home, we started talking about commercial culture and the mind of the consumer, the drive of captilism, the psychology of the American brain. The pathos of economics. But when I hear myself say, "they" and "them, I wonder what I mean by that. Who indoctrinates and who is passive. Who stands idle while others take control? Where do I lie on the continum? Don't we all have entities who attempt to control our taste no matter how large or small?

The cat is tossing around his litter. I want to get him a glossy covered box. He's also trying to break into his food. Tricky little kitty.

fudz n artz n muzak

Matt and Alex from the So So Glos and Julian from Fiasco, outside of Death by Audio in early July.

Abe Vigoda at Whitney Live in conjunction with the Dan Graham retrospective.

Food Party car via Thu Tran and friends at Deitch Studios.

Puppet from premiere of MGMT video, "Kids", at Deitch Studios June 20th.

Brown rice plus avocado plus satueed shitakes plus fresh ginger plus seaweed by me.

Insane Croatian lunch courtesy of Croatians.

Aftermath of corn salsa explosion.

Sacrosanct, Sushi and Sass

Last night, I went an opening for a show called Sacrosanct, organized partially by Heather Jones and Santiago Moystyn. The show was at an abandoned church on 103rd and Lexington, and Nate Hill was there with his dog and bloody marys. Anyway, I really enjoyed Heather's work- a floating bed of sorts fabricated from used coffee and tea filters. It looked like this:



There was also a shelf with unicorns horns and a broken glass piece that I also found interesting. I think I just like shows in spaces with memory. Short on words. More photos:

Next, I went to check out my old friend Sara's new apartment on 103rd near the park and later we stepped out for sushi. Then, I went to see Jen's new apartment on 145th and St.Nicholas- went to this bar called St.Nick's which we were pretty sure must be featured in some sort of Euro guidebook to New York because drinks were 7 dollars and it was open mic night and French woman was getting her thing on much to the chagrin of the older patrons. Sleep.

It was nice to go uptown.

start of summer laze

i'm pretty lazy. but i still go see art! i don't feel like writing about it though. maybe i'll add more photogs, maybe i won't. wait to see.

mark flood at zach feuer (this is the greenlit room in the back)- me likes. the rest of the show looks little like this.


sophie calle at paula cooper. (this is a video wall of different ladies reading a breakup letter from sophies x)
i love the paula cooper space on the southside of 22nd- arched ceilings a la big red barn. personally, i like sophie doing a bed-in better than the ladies, but that's just me.

i did not go see the picasso show at gagosian because larry wouldn't let me bring my iced coffee inside. tough titties.

3days&nights

Last night Sarah was here and Meghan was in town from Austin with her boyfriend, we went to see Ear Pwr at DBA and then went to the Levee where I saw this woman Meredith who gave a talk about Mexico City at Silent Barn last year right before I went.  She seemed really full of anger- I tried to be all zen and hippy with her but whatever- some people just like to be angry- myself included at various points on the trajectory. Before that, Sarah and I went and got sushi at Sunrise Mart on Broome, saw Todd and Federico, got posh drinks at the Hudson Hotel (i had a mango ginger margarita!), and then went and drank beer in Central Park with Luke while eating more sushi before going to BK. Sushi and drinks in the spring are A plus.

Today we went to Washington Square Park and before that sandwiches at this place I really love that Liza and I used to go to on 13th st- Te Adore.  

Saturday night I went to see Dan Deacon at midnite with Lynas and Luke- it was Really Fun.  All caps.  Future Islands opened and everyone was drunk and slip sliding around by the end.  Got home pretty late and woke up with Shoog-ala.  

The night before that I went to a nice opening at the Boiler- Pierogi's new space on n.14th.  Two real live camaros gradually crashing into each other and a corona bottle that endlessly breaks itself in slow motion and then re-constitutes itself at rapid speed.

I have an article in my friend Zara's zine, Taffy Hips- you can  get them at Spoonbill and Sugartown on Bedford and at Desert Island on Metropolitan, get get it it...

Keep it happy keep it snappy.  

Friday night, I trotted around a bit. Left work around 7pm for my friend Anne's show at ATM gallery in Chelsea. Lots of mirrors and masks and also Tauba Auerbach-esque pattern paintings in the back room. Jerry and Roberta were there, the rain finally let up, Anne looked beautiful, and since the gallery is so far west, everyone was outside drinking bottled budweiser on the street.

Some of Anne's work looks like this:


Chris and Todd were there too, two JD art handlers- Chris had fashioned a belt buckle out of the Paola Pivi rhinestones, it was quite glamorous. Unfortunately, I had to leave very quickly.

Next, I went to the Jonathan Borofsky opening at Deitch. I was partially going to pick up a wall sign for artist who's been added to the show in Long Island City, and partially because I've been trying to go to every opening at the gallery just for sayings sake. Anyway, no one was there really by the time i got there, I said hi to all da ladies camped  out behind the desk, picked up the sign, and learned something new about myself- according to JD, I look like a sumo wrestler with my hair in a ball on top of my head. Go check out the show? I dunno, not my favorite, but here's the poster:




Then, I went home and made dinner with lots of produce from Zabar's that I got last week on a trip to the Upper West Side. I sauteed shitakes with olive oil and salt, warmed leftover brown rice in the pan and then added a little bit of parmesan, all served over a bed of mixed greens dressed with balsamic vinegar- a warm/cold salad. I also two glasses of a really nice Sauvignon Blanc.

Then I went to see Alexis Gideon at Death by Audio- Edan's show. The last time I saw him was at Asterisk with Dan Deacon when I was 20. Anyway, I missed the whole thing because I was being Euro at home, but I saw some really nice projection he did on the back wall. I'm trying to figure out how to get some youtube of it on here.

Then finally, I went to Daddy's. Is that really where people hang out? I guess so. I saw: Julia, girl with an intense unibrow from VB64 who's been sending me serious stalker emails for the past three weeks in reference to 100 dollars she's owed from Vanessa's studio; Ellen, girl who lived in Greg and Pete's dorm at Umass- she sort of follows me throughout my life; Rachel, woman who runs Secret Project Robot; Mike O'Neil, girl who I worked with at Ghost Robot (so many robots in new york); and The Beets!
What a tangled web we weave.

Pennsylvania tomorrow for further dental damnation.

art farts

I am currently employed by one of the largest galleries in New York. The art world has nice work if you can get it.

I suppose the reason I find my job quite interesting is largely due to the fact that the "chosen" people and objects of desire lie at the crux of many issues currently agitatating this big bad world I call home. Religion and economy, higher education and innate intelligence, memory and imagination, media and community, the familiar and the real, fate and chance, fabrication and mass production, value and money and beauty and intended de-aesthetization, sex and power, post-modernity and DIY, performance and depth, color and light. All the tangible stuff people shove in galleries and museums signifies absolutely everything fascinating about our world, and simultanously, means veritably nothing.

However, the concepts at hand become particularly poignant in our city of hustle as the art market is currently experiencing a 90 percent loss of confidence, with most major works currently valued at about a third of their pre-recession worth.

So to say that I'm lucky to be employed is the understatement of the year, and I try to be grateful each day I'm allowed to come to work and talk about massive installations that I've helped produce. Especially programming as absurd and arbitrary as the current show at JD's space in Long Island City where I spend my days and early evenings. It's a group show called "The Pig", and features artists Jim Drain, Paul Chan, Jeff Koons, Simon Martin, Paola Pivi and Gelatin, an Austrian collective. I'm only going to talk about the pieces I like because no one is forcing me to do otherwise. There are only so many times one can explain a steel grid covered in rhinestones that is the size of a movie screen to middle aged white women with Louis Vuitton bags who aren't going to buy anything anyway using words and phrases like- movement, forced navigation of the terrain, texture, organic yet hyper synthetic. Ok, it's actually really fun, but can become mildly nauseating at times.

There are two "moving sculptures" drive around the gallery for a quarter. One piece is covered in stuffed animals and the other is fashioned from aluminum and found wood, titled "Henry Moore for the Poor". Henry Moore was an English artist and sculptor mainly known for large-scale bronze casts. His amorphous yet feminine figures, generally bulbous in form, usually contain an aspect of hollow, negative space.


"Henry Moore for the Poor" is a non-sensical moving machine- I dare not write car because that would imply it moves forward and back upon command- that plays Disney music for its bemused guest. Just as Universal told me I could "ride the movies" at its amusement park in the previews for E.T, Gelatin instructs any proper art patron to "ride" Henry Moore. Or at least his aesthetic.

C'mon, it's summer- everyone's at Basel anyway.

Today is Wednesday. The sun came out which was nice. I thought about Meg alot today- maybe this is because my boyfriend left me and I want someone to talk to who gets my insides. Or maybe because it felt like summer and I really wanted to drive around and eat sandwiches and be in Amherst.

But I was in New York, which was actually wonderfully great.

Sometimes I think New York hates me and wants me to live in a shithole, freeze my ass off, work for stupid people and get old and wrinkled faster. On days when it's raining and cabs spit on my calves, days when no one calls and I feel like everyone is wrapped up in their own mini city, days when somehow I've spent 60 dollars on seemingly nothing except 10 dollar packs of cigarettes, days when eveything smells and everyone seems sad. Days that would make anyone want to move to Kansas and cook hot dogs all day.

And then sometimes New York kisses me on my head and reminds me everything's going to be alright. It wraps its arms around my waist and asks me if I need anything, lies in my backyard and smokes cigarettes with me while drinking white wine and telling me there is nothing to fear but fear itself. It lets me know I'm special and that I'm going to figure everything out and that I am truly truly loved. New York buys me a drink and lets my train come just as I've stepped into the station, tells all the assholes to go fuck themselves. It plays me music and holds my hand and talks to me about grand adventures and future projects. It reminds me that everything is a construct and to grind my feet a little harder into it's pavement. New York stays up all night with me and screams loudly at me to engage with my work, to love deeply and absurdly, and to always stay the course.

Anyway. Meta.

My boyfriend's body haunts me. Most nights I wake up in the dead of sleep and expect his chest to be sidled next to mine, hand firmly placed in the small of my back. It's not. I turn over some more. Look out the window. Pet my cat.

So today, as on all other days for the past couple weeks, I try to get my body to develop new rhythms. It's not about my mind. My brain is too vast to focus on now- my body is manageable. sleep by myself, walk with your hands in your pockets to places you usually wouldn't go, stand up straight, legs together- no warm, wet anything.

stark, strong, bold, alone.

Alone I was as I walked into Zach Feuer in Chelsea this afternoon. Momus was wearing a ninja suit, beaming a clip light at a small woman named Aki Sasamoto. His voice is hypnotic as ever, even when he's not singing. He says all sorts of things to her, one anecdote about how he's convinced she contorts her face in her sleep especially for him because, subconsciously, she can feel his body and his eyes on hers and knows which expressions he thinks are beautiful. He also goes into the voice of an art critic while she rambles nonsense like a kindergardner, and recites songs by the Police while she flings potatoes attached to bungee cords against a collapsable wall.

Very romantic.

I adored it.

Sunday

Today is Sunday.

I woke up around 11am with Joe.

Last night I went out for beer on St. Mark's with Luke and Maggie at a place called Je Bon. I had a shrimp tempura roll and we split 2 pitchers of Sapporo. I felt drunk. Walked to the Showpaper benefit at 92Y on Hudson. Max and some girl and Sean and Ariel and Jon Flores and Nicos and Bonnie and Jane were there.

This morning, the cat was running intently back and forth across the length of the apartment chasing plastic and his own poop. My roommate is away for the weekend so I walked more freely than usual around the apartment. I fed Shoog. I ate some quinoa. We didn't have any coffee so we made black tea. Thought about how the cheap weird teapot that I bought could be killing us with it's plastic handle. Joe made artichoke and garlic sausage with some eggs and gorgonzola on top. We ate off one plate. We went back into my bedroom and laid on the floor in the sun like cats. It was warm.

Took a shower, packed my computer and my toothbrush for my parents house. I have to go to the dentist tomorrow in Pennsylvania. Took a car to work, stopped for coffee on Vernon. Total $14 including a large coffee with soy.

When I turned off the alarm at Deitch, I could see a blurry rectangle of heat radiating from the top of the middle unit (1 of 3). Opened the street side garage doors first and then the waterside ones. I was nervous the locks would be frozen but they weren't. A lot of people have come into the gallery so far today. It's 5:30.

Linda Yablonsky came and talked on the phone really loudly for a while. She didn't look at anything and left after taking a few photos of the skyline.

A group of French people came in- a little girl and an old man among them.

A rabbi who had just married someone across the street came. He said the paintings were wonderfully apocolyptic. I told him they were made the year I was born.

i am really really really really bored at work. joe says i should think of my time here as a sponsorship for my brain, but i can't help feeling like i'm on a cold airplane for six hours, 4 days a week. the walk could be done in my sleep. the clock gets watched, i pee, i eat somethings, read the new york times.

tell people about the paintings-

1. they were painted in 1985 in two days. they are not reproductions.
2. keith envisioned painting the ten commandments while dancing at paradise garage the night before he went to bordeaux for his first solo museum show. upon arriving in france, he asked for a bible and ordered 10 tablet shaped canvases that fit directly into large archways in the old wool factory where the show was being held.
3. they were made with acrylic and are kept rolled. they were re-stretched specifically for this show.
4. they are 26ft tall and 12ft wide.

above, is me diving in the air in front of the paintings. as you can see, they're quite large.

moving on. a photo of joe and me on my birthday. a nan goldin photo of arms.

(this post is not really directed that well. it's a product of boredom, not productivity, but maybe something new and exciting will arise from it).

Or maybe it'll allow me to sponsor my brain more effectively.