The House of St. Eve

Sairica sent me this:
Basically - For $30 you can marry a fundamentalist without being set on fire, even if you're slutty.

Artificial Virginity Hymen!

No more worry about losing your virginity. With this product, you can have your first night back anytime. Insert this artificial hymen into your vagina carefully. It will expand a little and make you feel tight. When your lover penetrate, it will ooze out a liquid that look like blood not too much but just the right amount. Add in a few moans and groans, you will pass through undetectable. Its easy to use, clinically proven non-toxic to human and has no side effects, no pain to use and no allergic reaction.

Sometimes I just need to cut and paste and wait for the anonymous viagra posts.

xo,
g

 I'm a huge Terry Gilliam fan and he's got a new film - The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus.

It looks amazing. It's Heath Ledger's last, with Johnny Depp, Colin Farrell, Lily Cole, and my favorites in the bunch, Christopher Plummer and Tom Waits (as the Devil!).

So, maybe it's hype, but here's a link that might help it come to your town.

Check it out.

xo,
g

 A friend is going to Disney World in the next few days.  I shared this with him and one day would like to try it myself.  Having been born a Floridian at the perfect time in the last century, I have been to Disney World enough times to warrant perverting the experience for my next visit.

Dear Jeremy,

I have fantasized recently about renting one of their electric wheelchairs - no need for proof as to why you need one, it's just $40 or so in any of the parks - and dressing it up with blinky things like elwire and glow sticks and going through the park like an installation.  Certainly, videotaping yourself like this would make an interesting segment and people's reactions would be fun.  Testing the limits of the mouse police is also vaguely entertaining.  If people ask - You can say the lights make it safer or you can go for the underbelly and say that that the lights cheer you up in the face of adversity while pointing to your legs in the wheelchair.

 Thank you, Turk,

I have been underwater for ten weeks.  I am just waking up from the penumbra.  I spent many waking hours getting ready for my private show at PS 122, and now Sex Crimes Cabaret will be at Walker Space, home of Soho Rep, in December for two weeks - thanks to my new producers, Collective Unconscious.

Cesar Salad, my odd little quasi-culinary film is going to be in The Coney Island Film Festival October 4th at 4pm.  

Yesterday, I was just at the opening for the Baby Ikki film I made at Burning Man last year.  I ate too much.  I am now typing inside what feels like a fat suit.  

And a music video (OBSCENITY) from Sex Crimes Cabaret will be in this Saturday's Avant-Garde-Arama at PS 122.  All the info is on the website - TheSaintEve.com.  

In between Sex Crimes and Burning Man, I did edits for PS 122 as well as Montclair University's Peak Performances, who have a tremendous theatre program.  And, well, I've been busy and sleep has been delegated to other people.  This leaves me rather soft and tiny.  I am a mushball of my former self but the mind is reforming and soon this will be a cleaner apartment, and I'll be just full of happy brains and firing neurons.  

Last night I went to many shindigs after the opening of the Baby Ikki installation.  The event was followed by gobs of Indian food near the Sculpture Center.  

Then I went to the White Box gallery with my friend Mary from Artnet and Bec+Malcolm from Superalot, then Home Sweet Home bar - both on Christie.  Then I went to Arlene's Grocery, by accident, because I was so tired I was hoping on some secret level that I was supposed to be there instead of Mercury Lounge. It's closer to my house but I liked the band so much I stayed for their last three songs and bought their cd (cute band from Yorkshire called GST Cardinals).  And then I finally arrived at the actual Mercury Lounge where I saw Mucca Pazza, who were simply amazing (thank you Larisa).  

I need to go to the gym.  

That about sums it up.

There's more, but this quickie, poorly written post should do it for now.

 Mom just turned 75 but celebrated it as her 49th birthday because she started a new life in the States in 1960.  She smokes a couple packs a day of cheap cigarettes, sips espresso all day and sends me funny emails.

Having recently accepted a UPS package from me, she emailed to let me know how it went.

I am pleased to inform you that your UPS package has arrived.
Because I was afraid not to hear the doorbell, which you know 
sometimes does not ring, and miss the fellow, I put a note on it that said:

             "Press ringer with energy and enthusiasm"

He rang several times and when I opened the door I commented he seemed full of energy,
He answered: "No, I am full of enthusiasm."

Here it is, waiting for you.

Besitos, 
Mom.

 Come out to Figment!  It's free!!

 Did you ever read about the guy who sold his leather pants for $138,000 because his description rocked?  The question and answer section alone was worth the archive.  He later sold postcards for a lot of money with the promise of driving mad the person of your choice.  That was Brian Sack, known also as The Banterist.

Here's another Brian Sack one where he's selling a book signed by someone "more famous" than he is.  Not as insane an item as the other two, but the quote below made me stop and write this post.  Thank you, Nicole, for sending the link.  

"Famous people are better than we are. They’re smarter, more attractive and have health insurance. Fame has made tiny, tiny Bono a larger-than-life figure.  Fame is presumably the only reason a pretty, young woman would ever marry Donald Trump. Fame is why Ashton Kutcher is alive instead of floating in the Pacific."

I made polenta with gorgonzola and porcini mushrooms for breakfast.  Then I checked my email for the 20th time and thanked divinity for my blessed life.

Hi!

Okay first off - a new favorite link: Deal-with-an-Existential-Crisis

And, I just got accepted by The Figment festival to perform TIL DEATH DO YOU PART - MARRY YOURSELF!
FIGMENT NYC
June 12 through 14 -- 2009

Things are cooking for Sex Crimes.

I don't have swine flu.

I will most likely be going to New Orleans in the summer to be in a play.  More info when I know more.  I was raised with air conditioning and I suppose living in a hot humid place will come back to me like riding a bicycle... through a swamp.  I'll be the one walking through the city naked except for platform shoes and some Vick's vap-o-rub or huddled in a sweater inside a car in between trips to the refrigerated theatre and Whole Foods.  Of course, I am excited.

Maybe Burning Man.

See you round?

xo,
g

 In "Swine Flu!" the musical, ordinary people start craving bacon and instead of digesting it normally, begin to smell like bacon to a
disturbing degree.  The disturbance causes otherwise healthy people to take bites out of this person.  So, if you were infected, you could be on the subway, and someone "normal" would be moved to start sniffing you, possibly licking you and then suddenly, goes for your arm.  

The victim sings a song.
The biter grunts rhythmically.

The "horrible" thing is that we all have this latent bacon-loving gene and the person afflicted with this version of the flu simply triggers it.  Everybody knows that even vegans often miss bacon.  A good whiff can turn anyone into a make-shift Linda Blair, however, without the need to die first and become a pale-faced undead person.  This brings down special effect make-up costs.  

The plot moves along once the innocent predator tastes the fluids of the porky person, contracting the disease, and ultimately "inviting" other people to bite them.  The final scene is a kind of crazy feasting zombie-like opera.  It's low brow and potentially full of meta understandings.

The best job in the theatre is to cook bacon in the back for low budget smell-o-vision.  Once the play takes off, we can invest in scratch and sniff cards.

love,
gabrielle (who washes her hands a lot and does not lick the subway poles)

This morning I had a dream that I'm going to write down here, so it doesn't get lost in my mass of hard drives and wacky notes to myself.

I was at the Burning Man festival, and in the center of the festival was a big lake. (For anyone who goes to Burning Man, the land is called "playa" like "beach" in Spanish --  not like "pimp" in Compton. I mention this because the large body of water  in my dream doesn't exist on the actual festival property.)

I walked into the lake with my friend Anne, with whom I usually go to Burning Man. She was in costume and at that point I was not aware of my clothes - so I can't tell you what I was wearing. The lake got deeper and suddenly I could no longer float. She remained comfortably bobbing with her waist above water, but I sank very quickly, assuming this was how I would die. She attempted to help me but couldn't.

In the dream, I said the thing I always imagine myself saying, should a fatal accident befall me, "Oh, well. I guess that's how this one's going to end." I noticed I had gloves on and the surface of the water was no longer visible. I can barely remember the gloves, but they were not work gloves. Tanned? Not lace. Not even sure if they were leather. Velvet?

After a while, I noticed that I was still breathing and waited to see if that would stop - and it didn't. So I did my best to move forward, a lateral move, instead of down. Inadvertently, I must have risen because I began to see feet and as I got closer, someone pulled me up and led me safely to shore.

On shore, I went straight to our tent, which was very much like an apartment inside. I looked through my drawers and there were no costumes - only working sort of clothes, practical things. This made me sad because Burning Man is a costumey event.

Some people entered quickly to change outfits or get water - people whom I was clearly sharing the space with (not strangers, but not friends really, either). I noted that they were the sort of newbies who maybe had heard about Burning Man through a corporate memo and didn't understand the event the way that I do. That's not to say they're wrong, but maybe they rub me the wrong way. A fellow, trying to be kind, reached out to cover my slightly exposed breast.  I reminded him that we're at Burning Man, "I may just cover my nipples in gold", so not to worry. He nodded sweetly, as if taking notes in his mind.  I began thinking that the gold nipple "outfit" would be inexpensive and "easy to wear"

Just then, Anne rushed in, surprised to see me alive. She was the most radiant I have ever seen her. She looked really lovely at this moment. I hugged her and thanked her for trying. I was okay, but a bit disappointed in my lack of preparation. Costuming may sound silly, but it represents preparation for an event. Not like being naked at the bank, exactly. It's guilt of apathy, and then wishing I'd tried harder. As sleep began to clear from my mind, my last thought was about finding a costume camp, and that I would figure it out. Gold nipples and a tutu?

Upon waking, I called Anne and told her how she represents someone who has evolved a lot. She got kudos in the dream. Last year I worked really hard at Burning Man and didn't get a chance to do a single thing outside of the job. This year, I doubt I'll go, for financial reasons, and possibly because I might be busy. I also haven't been partying much - for many reasons. I guess I'm drowning but if I just keep moving forward, I'll be okay. The end of the dream was like a statement of where I've been and the idea that I have options within my reach.

I know I've said it before, but New York is probably the closest I've come to a long-term husband besides someone I was with in the 90's. Like him, it's sexy but overbearing and has a certain grounding feeling that's comforting even though I want to run away a lot. Unlike him, it's not verbally abusive, but that's already getting way beyond the initial metaphor. I'm probably a bad candidate as a wife, in any case, and since I fancy smart guys, they're all too bright to try hanging on at this point. So, the city it is. I come back and it's "reality" in a way that nowhere else really is.

Manhattan Mini Storage is my friend. She holds all the secrets I tell people about, anyway. I am visiting her today with wedding stuff after a successful installation at The Shunt Vaults in London for Spill Festival's Visions of Excess.  Flowers, rings, vow sheets, lights, and so on.  The laundry was a trip this time round.  i usually have fabrics hanging from the ceiling and draped on walls to create a kind of chapel bordello effect.   This time the fabric was so moldy smelling, and it was only hung from the ceiling by our fab collaborators, Bernadette Louise and Geordie Blake.  The room was vastly improved by our lovely Spill Fest assistant, Nao, who vacuumed the space and helped us clear stuff out, but it needed way more than we could do (or be willing to do) in a day.

At Shunt, we did see a big juicy rat run under the suspended, soundproof-ish room where Nicole and I did our respective performances.  We were close to an outside door and I guess it was scared by the trucks that zoom in that tunnel.  My eyes were just widened by seeing a fat one so close, indoors (though we were duly warned).  And then my phone buzzed in my pocket and I nearly hit the ceiling - complete with that special rat-screamdance that anyone can recognize without ever seeing the culprit.

The computer is the therapist. Poor, overworked 'puter. Though, she did acquire a shiny, black rhinestoned mouse to zhuzh up the tower (thanks, Nic).

My human friends are angels.

xo,
g

In London, rooming with Nicole Blackman (the evil twin), Julie Tolentino and her partner, Pigpen. Bernadette Louise and Geordie Blake are coming in tomorrow to help us out with our Shunt gig at Spill. Sairica and Benjamin are visiting for tea. Just had dinner with Jon and Sarah, whom I have known for years. I met some super nice people at the Spill Feast the other night and got to talk with Kira o'Reilly for a bit, as well as some other wonderful artists here for the festival. It's pretty amazing, really. I feel really blessed to be among such talented, sweet people.

A friend of mine recently wrote to me about how she hates her life. Another one has a baby and a flaccid marriage. Some are doing well, many are not. My life isn't perfect, but I'm fine and my complaints should all be taken with a grain of salt. If it's on the internet, and somewhat negative, don't panic. I'm mostly flexing literary muscles. It's fun to write about problems because it creates all the elements of drama. But if it's serious, most likely it will stay in a handwritten journal where I dump most of my garbage.

It's probably time to seriously note the memoirs, but I'm so busy living it. It all seems so normal to me, I have trouble thinking of it as book material until I mention one story or another to someone and my life seems so alien. Recently, my friend Rhe asked me to be in her online webcast (Damsel in This Dress, playing an exaggerated version of myself. It was really weird to be examined in this way and I likened it to a gynecological exam. She kept saying, "You're life is so wild!" when I spend most of it in front of a computer, really. But I do have some funny costumes and things. As I poohpooh'd some of her enthusiasm, she told me to be unashamed. I explained that there was no shame, but kind of like a gyno visit - it's just a little bit vulnerable to open yourself up like that. And you can't help but wonder what they see. On that note, check out: http://www.beautifulcervix.com/ But I digress.

Giving thanks. Making sense of it all. Or not and just grateful.

I get an email from a friend suggesting I check out Nine Inch Nails greatest record:
http://www.nin.com/pub/strobelight/

I signed in with a fake email to see how far they were taking this new promotion
penisfart@gmail.com came to mind
and it went to a blue screen that makes you think you've crashed your computer, but it would only scare you if you had a pc or maybe if you're my mother and feel the need to warn me of internet scams without checking snopes.com first.

Oh, they're bored at NIN. Then again, who's little Miss Penisfart kidding? Who bothered to check it out and then write about it. Hmm?

I've turned in my Hot! Festival application with a bid for Sex Crimes Cabaret. Those things are always so nerve wracking. I need a drink and carbs for no other reason than to calm the part of me that should just have a cigarette already.

I will now think of weddingish list items, as I am suddenly coming to London next week to perform 'TIL DEATH DO YOU PART - MARRY YOURSELF! at Visions of Excess at Shunt for the Spill Festival. Thank you, Nicole, once again for hooking me up.

I am also going to dorkbot tonight in hopes of meeting geeks. I can't do internet dating. I run into the people I'm trying to avoid. In person, I can hide. Clearly I need help. Or a cigarette after 5 years of not smoking. Maybe a yam. Yams are calming. Yeah. Eat. That solves everything.

love,
me

So, I'm back in New York from a fab time in New Orleans, where things are pretty mellow and I find out that the last day to enjoy Rocquefort cheese at normal-ish prices is March 22nd. As if Obama didn't inherit enough nonsense. You can celebrate the sad goodbye at Murray's Cheese this Sunday: TimeOut Article with party info

Check THIS out.

Apparently, Bush spent his last days in office wringing his hands and adding a 300% tax on luxury imported goods. So, cheese that was about $8 a pound is now $30, after Sunday. The town where roquefort is made is, like, population 4500. Can you feel the hate? Was that necessary to help the economy? I support local stuff as much as I can, but I believe in encouraging trade, not drowning it when other things are so much more important. It's like his last stab after freedom fries. Man, it's like he's creeping beyond the grave with one more slap. I doubt it's not the last.

BTW - did you hear the latest with Monsanto? They're the ones who make seeds that only make one genetically modified crop. The seeds from that fruit won't bear fruit. You have to buy more seeds. If their pollen infects your crops they don't apologize, they expect you to pay them a fee. There's stuff HERE. A good read? THE BOTANY OF DESIRE by Michael Pollan. The potato chapter talks about Monsanto. Creepy stuff.

Hey Kids!

The Engine Collision Fest is on its way and colliding underground film and performance very nicely. I'm excited to be part of it and hope to see you there. They've got some interesting celebrities as part of it, and it's been fun to meet so many artists in one place. A great looking crowd, too, by the way. I am always impressed at how much style men have in LA. They're not afraid to be dapper. Of course, the women are always amazing. Whatever scene they're in, they wear it to the max.

David Lynch is part of the festivities and I discovered his daily weather report from Los Angeles.
Guess what, it's nice out. http://davidlynch.com/

SEX CRIMES CABARET is happening this Monday, March 2nd at 9pm in LOS ANGELES
Engine Collision Festival - 1636 Wilcox
Tickets are $10 (for the whole night, all performances/films) and must be purchased in advance HERE.

For more info on the show, please visit SexCrimesCabaret.com.

xxoo,
g

Hello from England where watching the inauguration from the Royal Shakespeare Company's green room was completely surreal.

The new ride has begun. Keep your arms and legs inside the moving vehicle. Your call is important to us. Please continue to hold.

Went to a Latin Fusion place and had elderflower cordial and soda. It was so English in a place that had mostly Brazilian style. I love New York, even after 25 years. Now, about manifesting a larger living space...

Went to the Party City store today to look for birthday items. I figure I have racked up enough years to give them away. So, tomorrow, people can wear one of the many choices of party hat I have procured and have Happy Birthday sung to them too. We'll be sick of that song by the end of the night, but maybe we'll invent new tunes.

The difficult thing at Party City is that if you aren't turning 1, Quince (only Latinas turn 15), 16, 30, 40 or 50, you have to go with some Disney-type theme for your birthday. You can't just have stuff that says "7" all over it. 4 + 3 = 7. I figure seven is a lucky number and I want to share it with my friends so they can be lucky too.

I will also be cooking, which is one of my favorite things. I think two raviolis might happen. One with wild mushrooms, the other - a pumpkin filling with a sage butter sauce. It will go with Velocity's lamb. And yes, "Velocity's Lamb" sounds like a great band name. I pretty much divide the world into song names, band names and album titles - occasionally books and movies. Titles! Woo hoo!

xo,
g

Hello Darklings!

I am merely a dancer in Adam Dugas' spectacular show, but I couldn't be more proud to be in the same room with this super talented bunch of people. I'm in a couple of numbers, but am excited about the avant garde Christmas song where Vanessa Walters and I will be wearing Swarovski Crystal covered antlers created from scratch by the luscious and vicously talented Amber Ray. If you can't come, enjoy your Christmas even though you seriously missed out on this show.

CHAOS & CANDY 7: FULL FATHOM FIESTA TWO NIGHTS ONLY!
THE NEW NEW YORK NON-TRADITIONAL HOLIDAY TRADITION RETURNS!!!


FRIDAY, DECEMBER 19th and SATURDAY, DECEMBER 20th 2008
ABRONS ARTS CENTER
8:30 p.m.
$20
466 Grand Street (at Pitt), New York, NY
F Train to Delancey, J-M-Z to Essex St.

BUY TICKETS HERE

Set sail for a psychedelic spectacular with the 7th annual installment of CHAOS & CANDY, the seasonal extravaganza from Adam Dugas. The S.S. St. Nicholas is embarking on a Brazilian-bound holiday cruise, but a sea-change is in store because the vessel is loaded with explosive surprises! A dynamite cast of singers and dancers, backed by a rock orchestra, delivers this story of terrorists in love and undersea antics. It's a full fathom fiesta.
Don't turn your back on the sea!


Chaos and Candy In the past six years: adamdugas.com/chaos.html

It's been swirly around The House of St. Eve and a couple of weekends ago, I was in LA working an event. The glamorous Sam of Suicide Girls fame was in attendance and kindly invited me onto their radio show whose main page is on Myspace.com/suicidegirlsradio.

Here are some more links if you are interested:
suicidegirls.com/radio

indie1031.com/listenlive

The podcast is free on Itunes as Suicide Girls Radio 12.08.08 "Alex's last show", and for now I'm on SG Radio's top friends list. They are fun and smart, with an interesting array of guests. The show I was invited to also hosted Tard & Feathered who create art events, and the rockin' band Big Elf who are large beautiful men with fantastic hair.

Thanks again to the sexy Suicide Girls who promote living by your own rules.