Jessy Delfino's Blog

The End Of The World into Weekend Recap
by Jessica Delfino

Did anyone see the lunar eclipse last night? How about the meteor shower? Or the aurora borealis? Does anyone else think that is a little bit over the top on mother nature's part? Does she have to prove how great she is by tossing out this extreme display of heavenly activity? Is it even right to give the credit to mother nature? How many questions have I asked in a row now?

I didn't get to see any of it. Why? Because I live in New York City where you can hardly see the stars, much less any kind of crazy commotion going on over the star's heads. The summer before last, I went to the Hamptons and my friends and I went to Amagansett beach and built a bonfire. We sat by the fire and drank beer and there happened to be a really beautiful meteor shower that night. I got really drunk and counted about seven falling stars, then fell myself into an alcohol induced sleep.

Though I hate the fact that I can't see the stars very well in New York City, one thing I love about New York is that there is always lots of fun stuff to do all the time. I've never heard one person say "I'm bored" since I moved here. If I were to ever hear anyone say "I'm bored" I would immediately translate it into "I'm boring."

I can't remember what I did on Friday, so let's flash forward to Saturday. Saturday day I spent the day running little errands and then on Saturday night I met with my Uncle Jamie (the one who commented on my comment board under "Put In Your 25 Cents" which by the way, is a real thing. The quarters have been pouring in, and I know it's humiliating to you to have to send a quarter for more than the price of a quarter, and that is why I am changing the rules to allow each person to be able to send up to 4 quarters, and to make it easy, you can send those 4 quarters in the form of a dollar bill. Just one more way that I help you to help me make art.

So back on topic, Delfino - okay, Delfino. My Uncle and his wife, Eileen took me to dinner at La Mela with some other friends and relatives of theirs. They had seen Phantom Of The Opera which I have never seen. If you have never been to La Mela, I strongly recommend it. It's lots of fun - It's on Mulberry in Little Italy. You sit down and they just start bringing you food and liquor. You don't order. So, every time you go there you have the same meal, and you get super drunk, and every time it's a delicious and liquory time.

After dinner, I went to Caustic at Low Bar in Dumbo which was fun. It's set up like an old fashioned (for people who have graduated from high school more than 6 years ago) high school debate. The topic was something kind of wordy and confusing, like, "Who best encompasses the literary spirit of New York" or a close facsimile to that. Henry Miller was one debatist's character (is that a word?) and the other was the kid from Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Salinger, I can't believe I can't remember the character's name. Henry Miller won because he was grosser and more dirty and dark, encompassing the true spirit of New York City. Jonny Diamond of the L Magazine hosted, and for those of you who don't know, Jonny kicked ass in the L vs. New York Press boxing match a few weeks ago at Gleason's Gym in Dumbo.

Next, I went to some weird show with my friend Christopher at a dark hole in the wall of a space called The Dollhouse, way the fuck out in Williamsburg. Maybe it's spelled The Dollhaus. I am not up on foreign spellings of words. I am only up on proper english spellings and misspellings. There were lots of chickens feet and a biting cat and a dark ass short film that played downstairs on a small tv. One of Christopher's ex-girlfriends was there which is always weird for me because none of his ex-girlfriends are very polite to the fact that Christopher is hanging out with some other girl who is not them, and always act accordingly, i.e., generally somewhat rude or else they just act out in a way that makes everyone feel awkward. This ex seemed more well behaved than some others I've met, but she was definitely a bit overly antsy to talk to me and meet me to see I guess who was better, me or her? I don't care because Christopher is not my boyfriend, but everyone else seems to care quite a bit. This story is boring. Anyway -

This is where the story gets interesting for a minute. So, next, I was headed to Deep Dish Cabaret at 14th and 9th ave. to specifically see Michael Portnoy perform. I got on the wrong train side which took me further into the scary part of Brooklyn and then sat alone on the platform for about 45 minutes waiting for the train back to Manhattan.
(JMZ - scary-ish) Finally, it came and I transferred to the F. After waiting another half hour I started getting itchy to get to the show so I didn't miss Portnoy, so I jumped into a cab. I told the driver I had no money and would have to stop at an ATM. We drove to my destination and I went into a deli that had two ATMs but neither was working. I went to the driver to tell him they were broken and ask him to be patient while I tried another store, and he grabbed me and started shaking me furiously. He started yelling at me, "Give me my fucking money you fucking bitch!" He then started trying to rip the bag of leftover La Mela food I had from my hand. I was sort of laughing but kind of scared, too. He was hatian and swearing at me in English and French. I took his number down but I immediately forgot it because I was drunkish. I think it was 461L or something like that. He finally let me go and I went into the diner to try to get money out of that ATM. In an interesting coincidence, that ATM was not working either. I knew if I went out there empty handed, the guy was going to flip out so I slid out the side door and started looking for another ATM. It occurred to me that I could sneak across the street and take off and the guy would never know what happened to me, but I am too brutally honest so I turned around and went to go tell him I struck out once again. Of course, he immediately started screaming at me and telling me to get in his taxi so he could take me to a bank. I said "No way" to getting into his car with him and started crying at this point. Two nice men who were standing on the sidewalk smoking saw and heard the whole thing and saw me crying. They split the cost of the cab, $5 each. I told them not to tip him. I gave them both my card and begged them to please call me so I could reimburse them, but they laughed at me, wiped my tears away, handed me a cigarette and sent me on my way, finally, to Deep Dish.

The thing that is so great about Deep Dish is that even when it isn't necessarily good, it's always interesting, and really rarely boring. Saturday's show was really extra great. I forget the names of half the acts, and missed the entire first half of the show, but some of the highlights of the second half were: one guy was there singing these hard core sex anthems such as, "You're Gonna Get Raped" about a girl who dickteased him and other fun song topics. I thought he was funnyish and interesting and even liked his songs somewhat, but it was hard to watch because the girl behind me was obviously upset by it and was talking about how much she hated the act really loudly in my ear. I also saw
Mangina, this guy who gets on stage totally naked except for a "mangina" he has fashioned himself. Manginas are his own creations, intricate plastic vaginas that he wears over his penis, then pulls his ballskin through to resemble labia. He then encourages people to finger the mangina. Again, though not necessarily good in my opinion, interesting. Michael Portnoy played as "Nigger Jokes" accompanied by a lovely pianist. He basically sung songs and told what he referred to as nigger jokes, but were sort of songish poems and whimsical comments on this or that, none nigger related. Michael is very handsome - tall, slim and graceful, he almost resembles Prince or something, and his stage presence is overwhelming. I want to fuck him on creative grounds only and then never speak to him again. I don't know him, but I have seen him a few times and been around him enough to know that I don't like him personally. However, creative sex doesn't have to be a personal issue, Michael. Just kidding, I'd never fuck you, it'd be too ungratifying for both of us.

Today I slept for a good part of the day, then had brunch at Azteca. By brunch, I mean two monster killing margaritas and a few bites of something that looked like a burrito which they called a quesadilla. At 8, I went to Collective Unconscious and performed first, a rarity in that often three to four hour event, and then I went to Solas which I was booked to do through a friendster. Thank you, friendster. I was home by 10:30, something which hasn't been happening lately, and went to a late dinner with my friend David at Danny's Skylight Cabaret room or whatever on Restaurant Row, 46th at 8th ave. I sung a song with the pianist, "How Do I Get You Alone" by Heart. There wasn't a dry eye in the house when I was through. After dinner, I spedwalked home and immediately worked out because I felt so guilty about eating such a huge meal so late at night.

This is a very long entry but I haven't written since last Wednesday. I know my entries have been a bit all over the place lately, maybe even since day one, but I don't know what to do about that. I guess that is both the plight and the delight of Jessy Delfino's blog.

Keep those quarters coming.