November 2007, I threw a mods & rockers event in the LES for a bunch of my motorcycle friends. I hired three go-go dancers: one was a regular dancer over at a friend’s DJ night at Motor City. It turns out I hired Lady Gaga for $100 and an open bar tab.

I’d really love a social platform that was an almost all-images mashup of prime Tumblr and Instagram eras, with the ability to just block anyone who tried to be an “influencer” or posted clickbait. I want art or human stories, not narcissists collecting followers so they can promote shitty products.

Also, I care less-than-zero about anyone’s opinions of living through 9/11 if they weren’t in NYC with us at the time. I’m sorry that the news interrupted whatever, but if their neighborhoods weren’t filled with sad and desperate missing person flyers, they can fuck right off with their opinions.

It was the only movie I saw in the theater that fall-winter after 9/11. The timing of 9/11 meant nearly all creative workers across all industries got laid off in our busiest season. I remember seeing that movie in Union Square, and it being a reminder of a much happier time, only months before.

📌