Failuretics

I failed in both attempts at culture last night. A boy's got to get to events early here. Which is tricky when said event starts at 6pm! Missed: The Autobiography and Sex Life of Andy Warhol with panel by Brigid Berlin, Gerrard Malanga, Taylor Meade, Bibbi Hansen, and friends. Full capacity house. Actually the NYPL people graciously opened the doors for the hangers-on, but my other attendee was not game to peer through said frame (god knows I would have been - peering through an ajar door, what better way to attend to old sex gossip?). Alas, I suppose I'll have to read the book (it was a launch afterall). But no problem, cause I also wanted to see Brett Easton Ellis read from his new nihilism-fest in Brooklyn (I skipped the Manhattan Barnes and Noble reading because B&Ns make me wanna throw up). Hopped the train which got stuck in the tunnel. After passing some SERIOUSLY Bret Easton Ellis boys on a street bench outside the bookstore (foppish, immaculately coiffed, despondent, gorgeous), I discovered a gaggle of people so tightly packed into a small indie bookstore that there was no point in staying there. I was sure not to see anything and the whole space seemed ill-equipped with regards to PA systems. Missed: Brett Easton Ellis reading Less from Zero 2 (fine... Imperial Bedrooms).

Gained: