so so shy

We had our first and last So So Shy concert on Friday. I'm a little at loss for words, but I will say that I'm very grateful for all of the good friends who came out to support us. Also, Will Dao is an amazing performer and I hope I'll get to play my crappy guitar solos* behind him in the future.



(*Crappy guitar solos = no rhythm + limited ability to play anything that doesn't sound like 1970s rock. A friend at the performance said that I was very "metal." That's all fine and good but our set was R&B and pop. After I played a particularly fuzzed-out guitar solo last week, David told me that we had just played "what white people hear when they listen to Beyonce.")

I was momentarily pissed off at the party when a buttload of mean-girl hipsters showed up, as friends of friends of friends who were never really friends at all, corralled themselves into a corner and refused to share beer or conversation, and then gave me the evil eye - this in my own house! I felt belittled and weak and crawled under the bed and hugged Boo, telling him that nobody understood us and we had no one but each other. But other than this half hour or so of intense self-pity and hatred, the party was fantastic fun and I saw people I haven't seen in years. And Friday night parties are the best, I think, because they leave you the entire weekend to recover from and reinitiate your benders, and to see the sideshow at Coney Island, bake magic cookies and stumble your way through a mesmerizing pride parade and two infinitely long and sensational and nauseating meals in the Village.

Part of yesterday's experience inspired me to write a poem:

Pride parade; mesh thongs.
Ladies and gentlemen, no!
For they hide nothing.