February 27, 1994
My gay friends are more interesting than my straight friends. They seem exotic and glamourous to me. They’re better dressers and become emotionally overwrought at a moment’s notice, which can be phenomenally entertaining. I have a lesbian friend across the hall, Cindy, and another next door, Hedy. I live in Harvey Fierstein’s version of Three’s Company. They invited me to a dinner party. They needed to borrow my table and chairs but I’d like to think they would’ve invited me nonetheless. It was me, Pete, five lesbians and one cute straight girl. Pete is a talented guitarist with a big afro who plays gigs with Cindy. They call him Linc, after the black cop from The Mod Squad, but not to his face. They were making fun of Pete and me, calling us breeders.
Most of them were vegetarians (of course). I thought the food would be bland but it was surprisingly satisfying. I had a few glasses of wine and got carried away, but just the right amount. I like when Pete laughs. It’s a hearty, full-throated laugh. They sat cute straight girl next to me. She dropped hints that she’s not seeing anyone and would occasionally rest her hand on my arm when making a point. I liked her but I’m reluctant. She’s Hedy’s close friend. What if we wind up in bed and I can’t deliver the goods or I freak out and perform my disappearing act (as usual)? Girls talk. I can picture all those lesbians exchanging knowing nods.
A few nights later Ellis had Clarance and me over for dinner. Again, I was the token straight in the room. Ellis is a terrific cook. The recipe called for mayonnaise and he didn’t have any so he made some. I didn’t know you could do that. I thought you had to buy at the supermarket.
Clarance was renting an apartment in the brownstone he owns to a woman who up and left for Tampa on short notice and still owing him money. Not long after, she called and asked him to be a reference for a mortgage application to buy a house. He said, “I fixed her. I told her ‘Of course you can use my name.’” When the bank called he told them she was chronically late with payment and still owes for back rent. Afterwards, she called and said, “Clarance, I thought we were friends!” He said, “We are, dear, but you still owe me money.”
Loony Marina Abramovic. I liked her a lot more before she wrote an autobiography. She grew up in a wealthy family right after the war. While folks around her were starving she enjoyed maids, theater and a grand lifestyle. Yet, in her autobio, she complaines of “…the tyranny of support.” After success she whined about “…changing planes so often, museum and gallery openings, endless receptions…” Boo-hoo.
Sold for $365,000! Wow!
“There are 72 objects on the table that one can use on me as desired. I am the object. During this time I take full responsibility.” Duration: 6 hours. 1974. Naples.
Items on the table: gun, bullet, blue paint, comb, bell whip, lipstick, pocket knife, fork, perfume, spoon, cotton, flowers, matches rose, candle, water, scarf, mirror, drinking glass, polaroid camera, feather, chains, nails, needle, safety pin, hair pin, brush, bandage, red paint, white paint, scissors, pen, book, hat, handkerchief, sheet of white paper, kitchen knife, hammer, saw, piece of wood, ax, stick, bone of lamb newspaper, bread, wine, honey, salt, sugar, soap, cake metal pipe, scalpel, metal spear, bell, dish, flute, band aid, alcohol, medal, coat, shoes chair, leather strings, yarn wire, sulphur, grapes, olive oil, rosemary branch, apple.