Okay, here's what happened:
Great night. The Writing Aloud reading was fantastic. It felt good to do a poetry feature again. The audience was warm and welcoming and the venue, the Prince George Tea Room, was really beautiful.
Then we headed off to Regie Cabico's "The Rage of Aquarius" party at St. Mark's Poetry Project where I was surprised to find myself on the bill for that evening's performance. This is in keeping with my recent burst of "I'm Not Old" hard-core living. I haven't double fisted the readings in a long time. The crowd at this particular event looked to be barely legal but Tim and I mangaed to turn it out. Did a bit of dancing and was really impressed with one of the other performers, a young woman by the name of PP Snatch who sang songs about math class and her chihuahua. She said PP stood for Perfectly Perfect.
Then Tim, Avra and I headed over to Veselka where I devoured a giant chocolate cupcake and a cup of peppermint tea. The cupcake was good but not as good as the ones RKBis always toting around from Sugar Sweet Sunshine but it filled my craving for something sweet. Tim and I got back to my house at 2:30 a.m. Punk Rock!
Woke up feeling what I can only describe as a "coke hangover." Or at least something closely resembling my memories of coke hangovers. Thus proving my suspicion that "Cupcakes Are The New Cocaine" (more on this later but I am deterined to prove this theory).
Anyway, Tim and I lumbered to Porty Authority to pick up Karen G. from Cliterati who had just arrived from Atlanta. After lunch at a Chinese restaurant in Park Slope, we headed back to my house and watched Napoleon Dynamite which was well, dynamite. What a weird little film...
Mr. Wells stayed in that night but Karen and I hit the hip Lower East Side dyke bar Girls Room. GR is nicely decorated, with a good sound system and they had some really hot go-go dancers strutting across the bar. I drank two Red Bulls, Ms. Karen stuck to Gin & Tonics. GR is cleaner and cuter than ye olde Meow Mix (RIP) but the cliquish dyke song remained the same.
After a few subway snafus, including being stuck on a platform for half an hour with a couple making out next to us letting forth disgusting slurping sounds, which I hate, and a guy talking to himself very loudly about sluts, we didn't get home until almost three. Hard core!
Could not properly communicate with my guests until after my first cup of coffee at my local diner. Actually, we were all pretty lame until we got some caffeine and food pumping through our systems. We enjoyed at leisurely brunch then headed to Chinatown for Tim to buy a pink, Dior knock-off purse. Not for him, of course, but for a lucky co-worker.
Then back to Brooklyn for another fantastic Atomic. Turnout was low, thanks to that big football game everyone was talking about, but we managed to have a good time. Afterwards, we had more diner food, and headed over to Ginger's for some Brooklyn-style lady lovin'. Actually, our little group sat in a corner talking about '80's music and movie icons, then played the naked lady photo hunt game. Got home at 2:30 a.m.
Woke up sans hangover. Maybe I just need to build up my tolerance for staying out late? Anyway, dropped Ms. Karen off at the Port Authority and am now toiling away at the day job.
Tim will be at Telephone Bar tonight. I'm going but I'll be heading home on the early side...
Sunday, February 6
Okay, here's what happened:
Posted by Cheryl B. at 2/06/2005 10:27:00 AM