A letter to a naked dude

So, this past weekend, i played a festival in the outback of Australia. As different as it was from other festivals I’ve played (being on the other side of the planet, the people , the wildlife and the musical tastes), if you were to press mute on everyone and just look at it from afar, it was really no different than a festival in the woods of Oregon. Typically , I do my set and scurry off to the closest hotel to make love to some wifi and watch tv with a roof over my head, never to be seen on camp grounds again. However, this time, I stayed for the full 3 days of the festival. I was IN IT. So, with all this free time in a foreign land, at a festival where I only know a handful of people, i spent a good deal of my time roaming around the campsite. People watching. I mean, that’s kinda what you do at these things, right? It was packed with the usual suspects. Burners, people on drugs, burners on drugs, girls in road warrior outfits carrying hula hoops, people in footie pajamas covered in dirt, a few back woods wiggers and a surprising amount of children. In fact, this was , by far, the most kids I’ve seen at a festival. It was pretty cool to see actually cause i can only imagine how their tiny brains are taking it all in. I suppose to them it’s like a circus with REALLY loud music.
On the Saturday morning of the festival, i was in the food area just stuffing some sort of garbage into my mouth when , out of the corner of my eye, I caught what seemed to be an abundance of naked human flesh. Being the inquisitive soul that I am, I turned my head to see a man walking away from, butt naked, with some painted stuff on his shoulders and ass…think war paint. I tilted my head and thought “Well, surely he’s got something on covering his front parts…”. I then saw him walk up to someone and give a close hug to them (the receiver of said hug did a noticeable body jut to avoid pelvic contact). Right then I thought “no fucking way”. Lo and behold, he sashays his was back around and there it was, his naked dick flapping in the wind, parts of it were painted but, make no mistake, it was as uncovered as a cock can be in a public setting. So, i’m sure this particular aussie raver doesn’t read my blog (i bet he doesn’t even own a tv and on uses the internet for email cause, you know, he’s THAT guy) but I figured I’d write him a letter…just in case cause, you know, someone needs to talk to this guy.

Dear Naked guy,
What’s up? Chilling? cool. I was eating my breakfast the other day when I turned my head to see your dick bobbling as you walk. Nice cock, bro! I especially enjoyed the ornate colors you painted it. Did you, perhaps, have one of the children who were doing face paintings at the festival handle that for you? Whoever did it, they did a bang up job.
I see you there, prancing around like a proud peacock, winds blowing your hair, smugly strutting to give your dick that extra bounce. Balls hopping off your thighs as if to way “Hey! Don’t forget about us!”. Don’t worry balls, we could never forget you.
Your pride and self love are palpable. You must feel great!
I’m writing you this letter to let you in on something. That something is that, unless you’re part of art installation or the incredible hulk after turning back into David Banner, no one who’s not having sex with your penis should ever see it in public. I understand you’re probably a free spirit. You cannot be caged but the constraints of society around you. Cavemen walked around, dicks flailing, so why can’t you? Well, I’m sorry to say, you are not a caveman. You’re a male in 2016 , in a public place full of children running around. Now, that’s my #1 gripe. Your dick and kids eyes. It’s just…not okay. I dunno if you know this but dicks are gross. They aren’t tits. When a women thinks of a strangers cock, she frowns and they’re the #1 target audience for dicks (shout out to gay dudes but the sheer #’s put ladies in first place). Think about that. The people who enjoy dicks the most, are also repulsed by the majority of them. But beyond the sheer grossness of it (for everyone), what you’re doing is forcing your bullshit on everyone else. Now, I believe people should be able to do what they want. So, in a sense, if you WANT to walk around with your dick out, then live you life. But, with life’s choices come responsibility and consequences. The consequences being your dick waggling in front of a 4 year olds face and your responsibility being to NOT waggle you dick anywhere near the face of a child. Listen, it’s a free world. We have so much we can do. Is your right to express yourself via nudity that important to you? Perhaps you should go to a nude beach or a Hedonism resort where that kinda thing is accepted and monitored. Maybe one of those burning man fuck tents I’ve heard about. I know, i know, a fuck tent is not in public but I’m just spitballing ideas for you. Regardless, all those places seem more appropriate than here.
I think what gets me is that I 100% know you’re doing this cause you’re just so one with the earth and comfortable in your own skin. That’s great. But ,sometimes, we’re so far to the left, we swing around to the right again. You’re blissful, free love hippie freedom is so extreme that it is , in fact, bordering on sexual harassment to every single person that lays eyes on your paint chipped penis. Every woman and man who didn’t feel like looking at your freewheeling cock. Every male child who now probably thinks that, when he gets older, his dick will become a crusty orange and green hair cake.
Every little girl who has never seen a penis in her life will now have THAT as what she expects. In 12 years, when she’s old enough, she will pull out some dudes dick and be shocked it didn’t look like bravehearts face. That’s on you , dude. And I know that’s the furthest thing from your intentions but still…s
o, fuck your freedom. There are so many ways to express individuality and openness without having to ruin everyones day simply cause they looked in your direction. So, please, do me and everyone else a favor and cover that stupid cock up. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
Sincerely ,

Alternate version of this letter:

Moby leaves NYC and the world stops for us all

You know, it’s been a great week for “Open letters”. That’s a code word for essays by famous people with something they feel the need to expose. I suppose, this could be considered an open letter if I was more famous. Instead, let’s just call it a blog post. That way we can strip away all the ideas of what I’m saying being even remotely important.
So, anyway, recording artist Moby recently wrote an article about how he left NYC for the sunnier side of things in L.A.
He’s not the first or the last and , honestly, I don’t blame him. It’s a different lifestyle out there and I can certainly see how it might be more suitable for all sorts of people. The thing is, Moby felt necessary to write an open letter explaining his move , as if any of us give a shit where Moby lives. Now , before I get into this let me share a few things about my history with Moby.
1)I do not know him (Pretty sure we are eskimo bothers though)
2)I like that tea he makes
3)I’ve never been a fan of his music.
4)When I was in my early 20’s, I saw him at a weekly party I used to go to and drunkly tried to start a “Fuck Moby” chant. That was my bad. I was drunk and young.
5)My song “Carnivores unite” is based on him. Well, not him so much. When I made the track, I jokingly felt it sounded like a Moby song, so I called it that as an answer to it ever being mistaken for one. Cause, you know, he’s a vegan and shit.

That’s it.
After reading this article I learned a few things about Moby I didn’t know.
1)He’s was born in NYC. No shit! This surprised me so I wiki’d him to read more.
What he didn’t mention was how didn’t grow up there. So, in a way, that kinda makes him one of those “Oh, I’m from NYC cause I came out of my moms vagina in a hospital that was located in NYC”. When, in reality, he’s actually grew up in Connecticut. Nothing wrong with growing up in Connecticut, it’s just even mentioning he was born in NYC is misleading…as if that makes his move to L.A. even more valid and heart wrenching..
2)He apparently lived in the play “Rent” in the early 80’s. In fact, he might have lived on the same block my sister lived on during that same period of time. It was indeed a mess…thugged out drag queens and heroin everywhere. The good old days.
Now, here’s the thing, none of the complaints that Moby is talking about are wrong. It’s all well worn territory. Yes, NYC is too expensive. Yes, it’s competitive. Yes, it’s landscape has changed greatly. Even the most blindly loyal NYC person can’t front on those things. Hell, a friend tagged me in this pic on facebook of 14th st and 7th avenue from the 70’s and I almost shed a single tear.
Look how awesome that was. But you know what? I wasn’t even alive when that existed. I was alive in the NYC in the 80’s though. And, without question, NYC was better then. Of course it was! All old things are better. This is all “fact” that has been rehashed over and over again. So, for that point, I could never argue with Mobe-dawg. Granted, he’s an extremely successful musician who can afford to live anywhere. His old crib was in Little Italy and , I’m told, it had an elevator in it. Not in his building…in his apartment. The point of that is , dude is rich. That’s even crazier considering I can’t remember the last time he put out music. If I recall, after he made himself famous by making slave hymns danceable , he started singing a little and people stopped caring. I could be wrong but that was my outsiders perspective. Whatever the case, he’s not hard up for money. So, this move clearly isn’t about that (as much as he does harp on the price of living). No, this move is about how NYC effects creativity. His whole reason for leaving is cause , with how NYC is now, he can’t be the kind of creative he needs to be. NYC doesn’t allow you to fail, is something he harps on. But you know what? I’m okay with that. While I think that’s a fairly black and white way to look at it, it’s true that this city has been known to chew people up and spit them out. That’s kinda the point. Not everyone is supposed to be able to make it here. Even Frank Sinatra knew that. But, let’s remember, this is Moby talking. A person who has not failed. But what about his creative friends?!?! They live in deep dark brooklyn and that’s just not okay with him.Again, keep in mind, this is a rich person talking who can afford an elevator inside his apartment and the best music studios the city has to offer. He’s not stuffed in a 200 square foot apartment with two roommates, banging away on his acoustic guitar , recording on a four track while the sound of firetrucks blare in the distance.

I spend a lot of time trying to demystify the musical process. When people get all wishy washy about some vague “inspiration” they require or they feel a room needs candles and incense , I call bullshit. However, I’m me. I don’t need that shit. Maybe others do. So, it’s really not my place to tell another person how to feel or what gets their engine revving, creatively. A change of scenery can be refreshing, without question. Personally, I find I’m at my most creative when I return to NYC after beign away from it for a while. I don’t doubt that Moby will go to L.A., live in some huge house in the hills and toil away in a home studio he built making music he really loves. I get that. But, if that’s the goal, just go do it. Move to L.A. and get those creative juices flowing. Shitting on NYC with the same complaints people have had since the late 90’s isn’t doing anything. I think the thing that has always annoyed me about Moby is that, while he’s an intelligent and talented guy, he’s also kind of a pussy about everything. He’s always been the poster child for people who get offended easily. That mind set and being in NYC never really clicked with me. It’s almost as if he was destined to be out west where things are slowed down, more free spirited and less aggressive. That makes total sense. As much as he loves/loved NYC, perhaps it was never for him. Too rough around the edges for a man of his sensitivity. And, like I’ve said, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. The same way I might have a panic attack if you dropped me in a forest somewhere, NYC is 100% not for everyone. Perhaps Moby lived here so long cause he was based on the east coast and just assumed that that’s where creative people go? When, in actuality, he was a west coaster in his heart the entire time. I say this cause, while I agree with his issues with the city, it’s never gotten to me (Or most people I know who are from here). It’s just some things we accept in exchange for all the awesome parts of living here. The good and the bad. Maybe , in three years, Moby will move back east and write a 2000 word essay on how much he can’t handle traffic and how fake everyone is in the L.A. music scene. I suppose we’ll have to wait with baited breath for that one.
In reality, I think he just got bummed out because of this terrible winter we’re having. It’s been cold as fuck. Who doesn’t want to be in 80 degree weather right now? Well…actually…maybe no Moby cause I feel like with his fair skin he might just burst into flames in that dry so-cal heat.
So, to Moby, I say, Bon Voyage, I’m not mad at you or bitter (i don’t know you, how could i be?)…I just think you’re corny. That said, if more people took it upon themselves to reevaluate if they belong in this city, then left this city, it would undoubtedly be a better place. So, hey everyone, listen to Moby! NYC is dead! Leave as soon as possible. The rest of us stuck here will be forced to deal with it. Oh well. Someone’s gotta do it, right?

Dear Squatter girl…

(not an actual photo of the girl I’m talking about…but close enough)

Dear squatter girl chilling outside of Duane Reade,

Hi there. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name so I hope you don’t mind if I just refer to you as “Piece of shit”, as you are basically a living and breathing embodiment of fecal matter in form of a 21 year old white girl.

So, how’s it going Piece of shit? I’ve noticed you hanging out on my corner for a few weeks now. You tend to post up against the wall, with a beautifully written sign (your calligraphy is quite impressive) asking people for change. By your side, as always, is your lovely dog. He seems happy enough. I often see you either doing drawings or writing in a journal of sorts. I’m glad you can find time to be creative in such an apparent dire time in your life. Lord knows, when it comes to real homeless people, creative expression is of the upmost importance. In fact, it’s rare you see a vagrant without an easel within arms reach. That’s because, being homeless isn’t about hard times or a last option. No, it’s about exploring the world and doing so without having to answer to anyone. totally. You’re the new millenium version of the classic train hoppin’ hobo from the 50’s , armed with only a harmonica and twinkle in your eye.

Anyhoo, I just wanted to shoot the shit with you for a bit.You don’t seem very busy so now’s as good a time as ever. I gotta say, I’m impressed with your spirit. You no doubt retire under a bridge every night and sleep with one eye open. Such is the life of people as downtrodden as you. I don’t doubt there is some horrific story of how you got to this point. Certainly , you’re not from a wealthy suburban family. Definitely not…You definitely didn’t leave home and move to new york to come to art school, thinking your artistic talent would pay the bills immediately. And there’s no way you’re doing this to get back at your uptight (but ultimately loving) dad who really wishes you had just gone to college like your siblings. surely, there is no open door policy for their daughter. No, you’re alone. Locked out from the family cause they simply could not understand you. I bet your high school art teacher understood you.

I’ve noticed though that , while you appear to be a bum through and through, you appear to have been able to maintain some things that most people in your situation would have abandoned a long time ago. Let’s list them:

1)A dog
Now, if you were really as down and out as you would like to appear, that little guy would more likely be food then a companion. By having him with you, sure, you get to live your Rin Tin Tin life fantasy but you’re also begging for two mouths to feed. Perhaps him being there inspires sympathy from passer-byers. In fact, he’s probably the homeless equivalent of a child star…and you are his stage mom. Well done. But just remember, if you’re ever really hungry, you can sell that motherufucker. China town is only 30 minutes away.

2)personal style
Usually, when a person hits rock bottom, all superficial things fall to the side. But, such is not the case with you. You somehow manage to look like a person who might work in a thrift store in Greenpoint. And your hair! It’s dyed perfectly! I’ve long said that the true sign of poverty and despair is someone who can get their hands on “Manic panic” against all odds. Also, nice kicks. I was gonna buy those but they were a bit expensive. But , you know, some of us have bills to pay! By the way…That tattoo you got is fantastic. A full sleeve! Who needs food when you can have a full sleeve? Not you, Piece of shit.

3)Piercing upkeep

Listen, I know you don’t have health insurance. But I must commend you on keeping all those body and facial pierces clean. That’s gotta be difficult with all the dirt you must roll in. Germs are everywhere…especially in pocket change. I don’t suppose soup kitchens are handing out hydrogen peroxide now, are they? Well, whatever the case, that cheek ring look wonderful.

4)Nice phone!

Is that the new droid?Shit…I want one of those. But the plans are kinda expensive. You must have got an awesome deal at one of those secret hobo swap meets I’m always hearing about. I feel like texting and friends are two things that go hand in hand with being homeless. If there’s one thing homeless people have, it’s social options.

All those great things going on for you. Not to mention, you’re young. The world is in the palm of your hands. All that’s missing is a roof!
The other day, I saw some dimwitted person offer you food. Cause, you know, homeless people tend to be hungry. You asked him if it was vegetarian. Sadly, it was not. You respectfully declined and , i swear, i could have seen your dog mime blowing his own brains out with a shotgun. I wonder if he’s a vegetarian too?

I often find myself wondering “what does Piece of shit do with her day?”
Surely , there are only so many free glass blowing symposiums to attend in one day. And a coffee shop can only take up so much of one persons day. Do you wander? You must meet all sorts of great people. Other squatters, just like you. With bank cards and college Id’s. Oh the tales you must share! I bet one of you has even seen a fist fight. In a way, I envy your bohemian approach to life. Why walk on the lame busy road, when you can dip through the enchanted forest and really experience what life has for you. It’s not like this lifestyle puts you in harms way. Fuck no! you’re a 21 year old white girl who weighs about 105 pounds. You’re unbreakable.

So, yeah, Piece of shit. I wish you the best of luck in your travels. Whether it be across this great country of ours or back to brooklyn when the Pratt dorms reopen this fall. Do me a solid and keep an eye out for your fellow homeless brethren. They no doubt have accepted you with open arms and would only want to best for you. Although, I’d imagine they’re are also wary that the day will soon come when you spread your wings, go back home to your wealthy parents, go back to school , get a job , get married and have kids who eventually go to private school in new england. But , until that day, stand strong, Piece of shit. Oh…but could you do me a solid and get the fuck off my corner? You and your dog smell like a corpse’s vagina.

With Love and respect,